Category Holidays

Rockets Loud Blare

Michael 9 Comments

Sunday afternoon I was having dinner with my daughter and her dog. Nature was putting on a fireworks display that rivaled what man made for the Fourth of July. The dog didn’t seem to mind the booming thunder. He would stop, tilt his head to one side, and lift an ear but then go right back to trying to get all the frozen fruit out of his treat. According to the daughter, he was not so calm with the artificial noise makers the previous week. Those he didn’t trust quite as much as these that he must have sensed were part of the natural scheme of things. I can’t say I blame him. If I could invent a firecracker that had the beauty of the modern displays without all that blasted noise, or noisy blasts, I may not end up a millionaire, but I’d like it a lot more.

That got us to talking about fireworks and the best backyards of the ones we collectively have had to be able to see the downtown display and from there, somehow, into stories about about hospitals. No it wasn’t a natural progression but most of our conversations follow no natural progression and we are quite proud of that. Or at least we tolerate it.

It happens to be that ten years ago, the Fourth of July 2013, was the last Fourth that I was out actually somewhere with the intent to see a fireworks display. Two days later, I had the first of the many major surgeries that changed my life forever. I don’t think that’s why I haven’t been out to see fireworks since, content to watch them from the relative comfort of a backyard deck chair, but that’s the sequence of events. Proof again that just because B follows A, A does not necessarily cause B. Anyway, that’s how we got from thunder to fireworks to hospitals and hospital stays. Somehow, I managed to have a story that wraps that all together, with a nice ribbon, and a big bow in top. Of course I do.

It was New Years Eve, I don’t recall what year and I don’t recall why I was there, but some year in the not too distant past, after 2013 but before 2023, I was admitted to a just barely suburban hospital. I say just barely suburban because on a good day, you can walk from the hospitals front door to the city boundary. Anyway…on this particular day, I walked no where except to the emergency room and there just from the parking lot or maybe from my doctor’s office located in the medical office building next door to the hospital, and to make a long story short (I know…too late), I was admitted for some reason or other. I was wheeled up to the room, looked out the window and had an unobstructed view of downtown. (I should mention that the hospital sits on a hill so I was also looking down into downtown.) (Quite appropriate, don’t you think?) (And now, back to our show.)

Later that evening, just after dusk, my visitors and I were treated to a front row seat to the first set of fireworks. (Yes, first set. At the time (I don’t know if they still do) the city sponsored two New Years Eve fireworks displays, the first dubbed “the family show” just after dusk, and the second, at midnight just as the countdown reached zero.) Later that evening I stayed up to watch the midnight fireworks too and then settled in for the night.

As I said, I don’t remember why I was there but it had nothing to do with my heart. I know that because the following morning, New Years Day, a nurse came in and asked why I was there, that was the cardiac floor and I didn’t seem to have any heart problems. I agreed I didn’t, and that all the work that had been down to me up till then was in the general area below the belt. I was transferred to the general surgery unit and never again saw the downtown fireworks so clearly as that night. Nor so quietly either.

Taking charge of your emotions is a good thing to do. Taking charge in moderation might be the best way you can do it. We explain why we think so in the latest Uplift! (Reading time 3 minutes)

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Making Beautiful Music Together – Revisited

Michael 5 Comments

While I was pondering what to post on a day that falls between the second of July (lower case “s” and the Fourth of July (upper case “F,” aka Independence Day), I found that recently I had definitely overplayed the not as entertaining as it used to be “weekend holiday sales theme,” the self-righteous “everybody is wrong about what this holiday means” theme, the angry “why do people keep referencing their [fill your favorite amendment] and what they authors of [that favorite amendment] meant when nobody alive now was around when [said aforementioned amendment] was passed” theme.

What was I to do? I went back and checked on some of the previous Fourth of July aka Independence Day posts and found one that I really like, and it wasn’t even sarcastic or flippant. So I’m reposting that here and then I’ll be back at the end to tell you what I think about it today. (This post isn’t that old and some of you might actually remember it.)

For some reason I was thinking of a time ago when my daughter was a teenager filling her after school day hours with after school activities. Two of those activities, or one with two arms perhaps, were concert band and marching band when she played flute and piccolo respectively. The thing about those particular winds is that, except for perhaps in the fingers of Ian Anderson, they rarely play much that by themselves would be recognizable as music. While she would practice, I couldn’t be sure she was playing the right notes but during the performances, with the other winds, strings, and percussion, all the individual pieces came together to form true music. Every now and then an instrument might be featured in a solo, but for far longer the group played ensemble to make the really good stuff.

In a sappy poetic way, America is like those bands. Alone, we don’t sound like much. We’re single instruments playing random notes that make little sense alone. If you put all the piccolos together, they still don’t make much musical sense, only now they make it louder. Likewise, groups of like-thinking individuals spouting the same lines make little sense even when making a lot of noise. No, it’s not the number of people that make the country, it’s the variety. It might not work for other countries and that’s fine, but for America to work, there must be different voices, playing different parts of the same song.

Lately too many of us have been closing our ears to the other instruments that make up the American band. We’re content hearing only our own part, or worse, playing only solos. Then we question why others aren’t thinking the same thing. Oddly, the others are wondering likewise, everybody convinced their part is the main part, that their idea is the right idea. Why won’t everybody think alike? It really isn’t a matter of why everybody won’t think or say or do the same things. It’s because we can’t. We can’t think the same things because we don’t have the same backgrounds to formulate those thoughts. No matter how hard a piccolo tries, it cannot reach the same notes as a tuba.

You can only listen to a tuba solo – or piccolo or sax or marimba – for so long before you get up and walk out on the concert. The strength of the band, the beauty of the music, is not in the instrument. It is in the players who know when to play their notes, trusting that by allowing the other musicians to play their own notes, they will make beautiful music together.

This Independence Day, take a moment to think about how our differences are what makes us unique as a country. Yes, celebrate those differences, but celebrate the whole also. The music sounds best when all the instruments are playing together. Celebrate this Independence Day and enjoy our rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of really good harmony.

We’re quite thankful for the freedoms we have and for those who continue to work to keep them for us.  I was one of those some years ago doing just that.  So maybe that’s why when I talk about what freedom means, or how I’d like to envision an harmonious country, I’m willing to take a few liberties with our liberties.  Be as rebellious as you want, but be mindful that freedom doesn’t come easy.  Nor does it come by the actions of one person, one group, or one party.

Go ahead and selfishly enjoy your freedom tomorrow. Wednesday, get back to the work of playing your part to see that next year you can again celebrate with those you don’t see eye to eye with, but you couldn‘t be an American without.

“Love begins with listening,” says Fred Rogers. In the latest Uplift! we say why we think that listening is an essential way of saying I love you, and might be the greatest gift we can give to somebody. (Approximate reading time = 3 minutes)

Happy Birthday America!

With liberty and justice for all who are just like me

Michael 9 Comments

Listen up Americans. Today is Juneteenth, a legal, federal holiday in the US. That means no mail, don’t stop at the bank, and keep alert for road closures during parade hours.

That’s about as much as most Americans know about this holiday. And frankly, that’s about all that most Americans know about any holiday other than Super Bowl Sunday. Something that happened 150 years ago isn’t on the collective radar. “Do I get to keep my gun” and “It’s my right to free speech” are all about what most Americans are concerned with when it comes to American history. It’s a shame that more effort isn’t put into the wide-ranging interpretation of so many other things that are ensconced in the National Archives, like “All men are created equal.”

Back in the middle of the nineteenth century, there was no Internet, no Twitter or its various alternatives, no Facebook, no 24 hour cable news networks. There was basically word of mouth supplemented by telegraph. Even routine mail delivery was limited to few cities and newspapers took the “news” part of their name somewhat tentatively. So the fact that it took over two years to inform the entire country that slavery had been abolished is, although not the best look for the rebuilding government, not completely surprising. The fact that it took 156 years to formally recognize it as a happening worthy of celebration is appalling.

There is another fact that is -ing-worthy. The fact that so little has been written anywhere about Juneteenth is concerning. It has gotten so little press you might think it still is 1865 and the news media is slow in getting around to the news part of things. Granted, this is only the third official celebration of Juneteenth as a national holiday. I suppose the American retailers haven’t yet decided if it will be a good holiday to sell mattresses, used cars, or major appliances. A holiday isn’t a holiday without its own merchandising identity. Coming so close to Father’s Day, propane grills and patio furniture are out of the running.

Again, considering the holiday is but three years old, there hasn’t been enough time for the crazies across the country to work up their usual rallies, protests, or boycotts. There is a chance that Juneteenth might escape those demonstrations of ignorance and anti-inclusivity since many of the loons who would be organizing them are so busy in June protecting us from the terrors of Pride Month.

For those who have made it this far, here is a serious and real history lesson. The Emancipation Proclamation was signed by President Lincoln on September 22, 1862, and took effect January 1, 1863, declaring that slaves held within the rebellious states “are, and henceforward shall be free.” The last state to release slaves as directed by the Proclamation was Texas on June 19, 1965 (hence “Juneteenth”), but that was not the last state to free slaves. The Emancipation Proclamation addressed only states under Confederate control. It wasn’t under the Thirteenth Amendment to the US Constitution was ratified in December 1865, that slavery was officially abolished in the United States. Sort of. The Amendment was ratified by the legislatures of 27th state to do so as required then by the Constitution on December 6, 1985 and it was certified by the Secretary of State on December 18, 1865. Because of some conflict with an existing state law on the gradual release of slaves, New Jersey had to amend its state constitution in order to comply with US law, and it wasn’t until January 23, 1866, when New Jersey, a Union State, freed its last 16 slaves.

The Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America

Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.

Rest, recovery, and reflection are the three Rs we are not taught. We need rejuvenate ourselves so we can get back to the serious stuff of life. Just not 24/7. Read our tale in the most recent Uplift! of a time seriousness was seriously overrated. Approximate reading time = 4 minutes.

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Remember why we remember

Michael 7 Comments

Most Memorial Days, a blog post writes itself.

  • Remember why we remember.
  • They gave so you can live.
  • It’s not all about parades and picnics.

Toss in a graphic with a soldier kneeling in front of a cross holding a helmet and we’re ready to move on to next week’s post.

This year feels different. I just know those whom we remember when we get around to remembering didn’t give themselves over to our faulty memories for what we’ve turned their country into. I think I can say that because I too served.  You likely didn’t know that. I’ll mention it now and then but it isn’t what defines me. Just another one of the many “used to be”s I used to be. But I used to be one long enough that I spent much time getting to know why we do what we do, or did.

Most of the people I served with were volunteers, those who weren’t had long served their obligations and their continued service was by choice, so we were all there by choice. People chose to serve for a variety of reasons. Some traded education for service time. Some looked to the service to learn or strengthen skills. Some looked to it as an end in itself, a career. Some just felt the need to do something.

None of the men or women I served with were killed in action while we served. Their names won’t be called out at noon today. It makes hearing the names, the bells, and the wail of a single bugle that much more meaningful to think others who held the same positions, did the same jobs, work the same duties would not be picnicking after noon.

Fortunately they won’t have to see what a mess we’ve made of their country.

We are called to serve one another and most days, there are plenty of opportunities to do so. Good caring friends can serve others to make life more meaningful. The most recent Uplift! explains how even among 3 geese, friend mean a more meaningful life!

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It’s a miracle

Michael 14 Comments

This will be my last post before the the western chunk of the Christian world begins Lent. Because I am part of that chunk, I thought today’s post should reflect some of the Lenten spirit. I hold a special spot in my heart for Lent, not because I am one who particularly enjoys suffering, but because I do enjoy miracles.

Ask most people to explain it, whether they do or do not celebrate Lent, they will respond with the simple, and simplistic, response, “oh, that’s when you give up something.” True enough, for those who never progressed past their kindergarten level catechism class, sure, that’s Lent. It’s something to do. In the Catholic world, we approach it with a near slogan observation that we celebrate Lent through prayer, fasting, and almsgivimg. Without getting into an extended theological discussion of the origins and meanings of each of those Lenten activities, let’s just stipulate that it is a better description than “when you give up something.” So where is this miracle?

Although many would like to believe Lent is there so we know when to celebrate Mardi Gras, there is a more prescient reason for Lent. Lent is a 40 day journey, from Ash Wednesday through Holy Thursday, of self control, self discipline, and preparation for the resurrection of Jesus on Easter. It’s a faith thing. There’s no explanation, other than to do it because we believe. And if we prepare ourselves well, we can participate in that miracle, the miracle of the Resurrection. Of new life.

If you had asked me to explain Lent eleven years ago, I likely would have answered, “oh that’s when you give up something.” If you had asked me three years ago, I likely would have answered, “hmm, let me get back to you on that.” Why? What was going on during those seven years? I am certain there are little miracles happening every day. Most of us are too human to notice them. There are some big miracles happening every day and we still may not notice them. Please sit back, and join me on a Lenten journey and see if we can spot a few miracles along the way.

Twenty-two years ago I was diagnosed with a condition we now call Granulomatosis with polyangiitis (GPA), then called Wegener’s Disease. At that time, before most of the current, common treatments had been developed, the mortality rate was between 28% and 45% at 12 months, the wide range due to different organ involvement. The current treatments, which have resulted in a close to 97% survival rate, were not commonly used until the 2010s. That I lived ten years to make it to the current treatment landscape is a miracle and an opportunity that I could live life anew. Of course, that was when I was young and stupid and was certain it just ”wasn’t my time.”

In January 2013 I was diagnosed with bladder cancer, “regional,” or what in other cancers may be tagged as stage 2, that is cancer that has progressed to other nearby structures or organs. The surgeries I underwent to clear the cancer were long and not without complications, such that I spent most of the first year after surgery in the hospital. The 5 year survival rate for regional bladder cancer is 38%. That I lived to make it to 2018 was a miracle, but I was slightly older and angry and “I had more to worry about than just cancer.”

In 2018 I was undergoing the first of the requirements to determine if I might be a candidate for a kidney transplant. By then I had been on dialysis for a little over 2 years, complications of GPA and probably not helped by having had an entirely new bladder and “removal” system rebuilt from other parts of me. The what seemed like endless orders of tests and procedures all had to be scheduled around the three days a week I was attached to the dialysis machine when I’d watch my blood flow out of me through one tube, and back into me through another after having had done to it whatever the magical combination of salts and electronics did to it while it was inside the machine. But tested and processed I was and a year later I had my transplant. The day after Memorial Day 2019 I was in the hospital and 2 days later functioning quite nicely without the help of my thrice weekly companion, the dialysis machine. And that lasted for 2 more days after that. Then blood clots set in. Unable to be cleared by drugs or surgeons, and at risk for even greater complications, the decision was made to remove the transplanted kidney and return me to dialysis. If I lived that long. And by the middle of June of 2019 I was back to the clinic, visiting my old friends more often than I wanted. But then something happened. Test results came back with unexpected results, output returned to almost normal levels. By the end of the year doctors were conferring regularly about “my case” and on January 21, 2020, I had my last dialysis session, displaying a far from normal but still quite adequate renal function courtesy of my one remaining “old” kidney. The doctors cited a lot of technical possibilities but most were happy explaining it as a miracle. Three times in twenty years I had been given chances of rebirth into a new life. This time I sat up and paid attention.

So am I approaching Lent as “that’s when you give up something,” or will I more likely use it to seek ways to follow my God more faithfully, and prepare for the miracle of Resurrection and a chance to again begin a new life with Jesus? I’ll take the miracle please.

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Know someone who didn’t get any Valentines? If your mailbox was empty last week, give yourself the gift of love! It’s the perfect gift for anyone, even you! Find out why we say that in Uplift! at ROAMcare.org

Ad Wars – Holiday edition

Michael 7 Comments

I am so looking forward to tomorrow, it is palpable! Feel it in the air! Capture its essence on the wind! Yes, I’m talking about Holiday Advertisement Armistice! We can all breathe a sigh of relief!! For a day or two.

I know I’m not the only one who can tell the season by the ads on TV and now on line too. Fragrances? If it’s snowing outside we must be coming up on Christmas. If there are birds singing it’s getting close to Mothers Day. Otherwise, you better have a good deodorant if you want to smell good. Televisions, really big televisions and power tools? Fathers Day will soon be here with the tools needed to build a world class man cave and the electronics to fill it. Caribbean resorts flooding the airways? We must getting close to Thanksgiving so we can plan for some warm sunny days on white sand and leave the white snow behind. And jewelry? Clearly Valentine’s Day approaches. Oh there might be some token pieces in May for Moms Day, and Christmas is always good for a nice necklace, but they pale to the brilliance of the gems you find on air during the first two weeks of February.

Personally, I’m getting sick of finding pictures on diamonds the size of baby heads mounted on rings of the shiniest metals retouching can allow in my Instagram feed. Maybe I’m in the minority but I wouldn’t even consider proposing, or want to be proposed to, on February 14, January 1, December 25, or my intended’s birthday. Show a little originality! Make it a moment that will always be remembered for the special occasion that it is. It should be a special day only those two share. In 40 years when she turns to he and says, “Do you remember when you asked me to marry you?” the answer shouldn’t be, “Duh, yeah…Valentine’s Day. I remember cuz it was right after the Super Bowl. That reminds me. We’re out of beer. [Burp!].”

But then what do I know. I’ll be the one spending Valentine’s Day with my therapist and then going to the neighborhood pub for the Tuesday hamburger lunch special before heading home to check and make sure the ring I bought back then is still in its case, in the back of the sock drawer, just in case someday (but not Valentine’s Day) she changes her mind.

And I’m looking forward to a few days of respite before images of green milkshakes clog up Instagram.

We all owe something to someone for our existence. We explore how we repay them in Uplift! On ROAMcare.org.

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Beyond a shadow of a doubt

Michael 8 Comments

He’s on his way. Just four more days until Groundhog Day 2023! This entire blog could be dedicated to Groundhog Day and the other 51 weeks be just filler material. Actually, it could be dedicated to the Groundhog, Phil, the one, the only, Punxsutawney Phil.

Not a year has gone by that I hadn’t written something of Phil and/or his exploits. At least I don’t think so. You can search “Groundhog Day” if you’re really that interested.  And if you haven’t read the 10 or 12 posts that will pop up there, you should. There’s a wealth of information there. Why, two years ago I even wrote a Groundhog Day carol.

Groundhog Day lovers aren’t known for assiduously adhering to the facts when it comes to our favorite rodent. We are known for our unwavering support for the little furry guy. Phil gets all kinds of non-respect. Meteorologists (the science guys and the TV people) don’t like him (just because he’s more accurate than the science guys and more popular than the TV people). People who don’t like winter (because he predicts a longer winter way more often than an early spring (137-20)), don’t like him. People who want an early spring don’t like him (see previous sentence). Southerners don’t like him (apparently some Georgian poser by the unlikely name of Beauregard gets the confederate vote). But that’s okay because the 42 quadrillion of us who do like him love him, and we love him a lot. How could anyone not love Punxsutawney Phil?  A furry woodland creature not known for building dams, outsmarting waskly hunters, or becoming Daniel Boone’s hat, gets more than his 15 minutes of anthropomorphic fame each February 2 with the power to captivate us mere mortals more than any other animal alive.

So what will this year bring? I’ve said it before, I’m not the prodigious prognosticator that Phil is, but … Considering our hollow trees are a mere 90 miles apart, we are working with the same weather, and this year’s weather in Western Pennsylvania has been anything but predictable. The average temperature has been higher than normal and the average precipitation has been lower. But on the day when it’s been cold, it’s been COLD and on the days it’s been wet and snowy, it’s been WE – well, you get the idea. I say we throw all that together with the fact the Lunar New Year heralding the start of the Spring Festival was so early this year, and Phil can look around all he wants, but he won’t see his shadow and we will thus have an early spring. Yay! Or not.

Is the best way to help, support, and encourage yourself to help, support, and encourage others? We answered that question last week on Uplift! on ROAMcare.org. Read all we had to say.

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And they’re off!

Michael 8 Comments

Well, 2023 sure came in like a bang! There have already been so many unexpected, unusual, unconventional, unplanned happenings happen, that if the whole year keeps going the way it started, I figure the earth will explode sometime around June.

For example, last week Congress met four days in a row! I tried to find the last time that happened and as near as I can figure, I came up with a week in April 1835.

For instance, just like prescription drug insurance deductibles reset at the first of the year, apparently so do e-mail spam filters. I hadn’t been congratulated for winning a Home Depot gift card, iPhone 14, the inside news for smart good traders, or the last space heater you’ll ever want since last January. Now I’m tagging at least a dozen emails like for exile to the Junk Folder.

For instasample, one day last week I was scrolling my way through the Instagram feed when I paused at one of the random posts they somehow figured I’d be interested in. Actually I was stopped there so I could back scroll to the TSA post I missed. (If you aren’t following the TSA on Instagram you really should be – they are the Number Pun site on the Interwebs, but I digress.) Anyway… the spot that I stopped at was a fitness app of some sort. I’m not sure why it thought I would be interested in that but because I stopped, it is now a certainty that every third post I see should be for a piece of fitness equipment, gym membership, fitness tracker, or athleisureware (or whatever they call call now what we used to call sweat suits back in the day).

For one more time, by January 2, TSA officers confiscated the first gun, which was loaded, in the carryon of a passenger attempting to enter the secure zone of the local airport. You would think on January 2 at the local airport would be the first gun confiscated in all the airports. No, no! It was actually the third weapon pulled from carryon baggage across these freedom loving USs. That’s a little below the weekly average of last year’s record confiscations of 6,301 handguns (88% loaded) but not a bad start. So far, 100% of the guns confiscated have been loaded, and 100% the passenger excuses have been “I forgot!”

And for the final ferinstance, why is it that the Christmas decorations I put away don’t fit into the same totes as they came out of! Sheesh!

Happy New Year. At least I really hope so.

This year resolve to focus on making yourself wealthy without spending a dollar and strengthen yourself without lifting a weight. Take 3 minutes and read how you can start a cascade of good acts at Uplift! on ROAMcare.org.

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Happy New Years +1

Michael 11 Comments

Happy New Year’s Day everybody. Oh, wait. Happy New Year’s Day everybody in the gold old U.S. of A! Yep, that’s what the calendar says. Oh it makes perfect sense. Because the real January 1 falls on a Sunday this year, and horror of horrors and woe to those who would dare to cheat the hardworking citizens of a day off, they “shifted” the holiday to Monday. Of course, those hardworking citizens who now have Monday off all went to work yesterday, which as we now know, was not a holiday. Right?

I’ve railed about Monday holidays before. I don’t know why I find them so distasteful, but I do. Almost as much as the insistence that if a holiday has the nerve to show up on the weekend (talk about anthropomorphizing), it owes those people who are already not working on that day, another day off sometime during the week, preferably at the beginning or end so they can benefit from multiple, consecutive days off. And then there is the worst part about it – it is system that was created by people who barely work at all, politicians(!).

I recently saw a Twitter thread started by an American visiting relatives in England that there it is “illegal” to work more than 48 hours a week. “How does anything ever get done?” queried the Tweeter. The responses ran the gamut from in same countries you don’t even think about working extra to “I work every extra second I must until I know the job is done!” (Yeah, right, and probably sucking up all the overtime possible.) When did going to work, or not going to work, become so competitive?

Look, I know it’s important to have time off and recover and refresh yourself. I also know it’s important we honor certain people and events and to that end we have anointed certain days as special, as holidays. You can have one and still have the other but you don’t have to shift the whole calendar around to accommodate- who? Certainly not everyone.

Maybe I’m just cranky already. In round figures, 2022 was basically a not so happy year. And now I’m figuring if it’s already going to start off bowing to the privileged, this year isn’t going to be any better. It shouldn’t matter to me who gets when off. I worked an entire career when even Sundays were just regular old work days, and I started work back in the day when Sundays were pretty much days off for everybody. Some fields know at some time you’re going to have to work every hour of the day, every day of the year. Not “emergency” calls or responses, but on the schedule, doing the same things you’d do on any random Wednesday.

Today, many of the rest of working humans have caught up with us although there are still a handful of people whose work emails do not end in .gov who will benefit by today’s declared holiday. If you are one of them and you feel a need to go see a movie, fly to some far-off destination, buy a head of romaine or a bottle of aspirin, listen to the radio, report a fire, or visit a friend in the hospital, be nice to the people wearing the uniforms and name tags. To them, it’s just another Monday.

That’s a wrap!

Michael 2 Comments

It’s been ages since I published a post in Thursday. I routinely did twice a week posts until I realized I just didn’t have that much to say – even to myself! So I dropped back to just Monday. Here that is. Many of you  know I also write a second blog in a second site ROAMcare.org. I was sitting here today working in new ideas for that one for next year when I thought to myself, between these two, I really did write some good stuff to wrap up the year. (If I say so myself) So, I invite you to wrap up your year with some of my favorite thoughts, from here and there.

Nov 9, ROAMcare

Today is only a day away

What do you do with a day that’s cloudy and gray? Don’t wait for tomorrow. Start a new day today! The sun that will come out tomorrow is already up there. Let the light in!

https://www.roamcare.org/post/today-is-only-a-day-away

Nov 16, ROAMcare

For the people who love us into being

From our earliest day there people molded us into the who we are now. They have been those who loved us into being. Thank the people who make us the who that we are.

https://www.roamcare.org/post/for-the-people-who-love-us-into-being

Nov 21, The Real Reality Show Blog

On being loved into being

Gratitude is not an exercise in saying thanks for what we have, for in truth we will not always have. We should be expressing thanks because we are, because even when we do not have, we always will be. Be grateful you have people who have loved you into being. Say thank you to them, because without them, you are not the who you are.

https://therealrealityshowblog.wordpress.com/2022/11/21/on-being-loved-into-being/

Dec 14, ROAMcare

If you could do it again…

If you could do it all over again, would you? Could you? You shouldn’t even have to ask if you take time now to review where you are in life and get ready to reset for the new year.

https://www.roamcare.org/post/if-you-could-do-it-again

Dec 21, ROAMcare

A Winter Carol

Christmas is just ahead and winter holds many holidays. It is when we remember something special shared with special people at a special time.

https://www.roamcare.org/post/a-winter-carol

Dec 26, The Real Reality Show Blog

Finding joy

We are responsible for our own happiness for if we rely solely on someone else to bring us joy, we always be living by their definition of happiness. It isn’t that the world gives us sorry. It’s that it isn’t the world’s job to make us happy. Happiness is out there. We take what the world gives us and make it something joyful.

https://therealrealityshowblog.wordpress.com/2022/12/26/finding-joy/

Dec 28, ROAMcare

The gift of gratitude

Didn’t get everything on your wish list? Fill that wish with something else. Gift yourself the gift of gratitude.

https://www.roamcare.org/post/the-gift-of-gratitude

Oh there were others, maybe more profound even, but these were my favorites from Thanksgiving on. Words that warmed me in some of the coldest days I’ve seen, and boy have I seen a lot of days!!

Happy New Year everybody. I’ll see you again in 2023.

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