baby boomers
Many of us face Father’s Day without our Dads. Even for an adult, the process of losing of a father can leave us adrift and bereft. On an intellectual level, we know it’s inevitable, yet the reality can hit us with a tornado of emotions, and sometimes when we least expect it. This piece was written as my Dad was dying, twelve years ago this year. I mark the years by the age of my first grand-daughter. My son placed his newborn daughter in the crook of her great-grandpa’s arms, the day before he dyed. I’ll never forget the look of pure joy on Dad’s face and the way he squeezed little Emma close to his heart.
Grown
When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, and I thought as a child. But when I became an adult, I grew far beyond my childhood, and now I have put away the childish ways.
– 1 Corinthians 13, 11
This verse keeps running through my mind. The one persistent thought among a kaleidoscope of memories that wash over me like waves against a lone rock on the beach. Each time the passage enters my consciousness; I end it with this thought: I was about eight when I put away my childish ways.
When I was brand new at the job I’ve had for nearly a decade, I called one of my best friends. She’s been my friend since grade school.
“I’m the Most Responsible Person.” I explain, over the phone, about my new position as head of Regulatory Affairs for a small pharmaceutical company. “Whenever I submit papers to the Agency, there’s a line that asks for ‘the most responsible person’. That’s me!”
This woman, who’s known me for so long, laughs a deep, from the belly laugh. “You’ve been
Judy Sewell, a bookish student involved in publication, orchestra, marching band, and student council, says she was a plain chubby girl searching for something, unaware what she was missing and unable to identify her dreams. The year Judy graduated from high school, at least one high school teacher, Bonita Ansbaugh, knew that Judy stood head and shoulders above her peers and recognized her for outstanding achievement in publication. Perhaps this small vote of confidence helped Judy have the self-assurance to put effort into identifying and pursuing her dreams. On September 20, 2008, Swartz Creek High School honored Judith Wright (Judy) with the Outstanding Alumni Award.
Judith Wright is a recognized and sought after personal coach and self-help expert. She appeared on over 50 television programs including
Did you know that our property is supposed to revert to the state after our death? Our Founding Fathers deliberately designed property to be “on loan” in order to prevent a royal class, or a class of the ultra-wealthy. Imagine how different we might live our lives if we considered ownership temporary.
In my corporate career, centered in science and industry, I learned what gets measured, gets attention. Measurement is the first step towards improvement. Thus we pay attention to Gross National Product (GNP), National Debt, Unemployment Rates, etc. In other words, measurements of national economic prosperity.
Manufacturers measure things like cycle time, re-work, defect rate, variability, and so on. These are measurements of efficiency and effectiveness.
In our careers, we measure income and percent pay increase, and ratings on our performance reviews. We measure our success.
On a personal level, we keep track of our HDL/LDL, our BMI, our Blood Pressure, our weight, our dress size, and the hairs left on our brush each morning. This is how we measure our health and beauty.
What if we took the approach of the Tibetan country of Bhutan?
- Photo by Maryanne Russell
Gloria Feldt’s most recent book, No Excuses, haunts me. It is beautifully crafted and written. Her call to political action is compelling. After all, as Stephanie McNulty points out in The Philadelphia Inquirer,
women are finally gaining a foothold on political power through the Americas-except in one nation…the United States.
Ms. Feldt, Gloria, wants to change that. I had an opportunity to sit down and listen to her vision, and her call to live a life with intention.
Gloria learned at an early age what it felt like to be an outsider. The only Jewish family in small-town Texas, she also learned a respect for
On a chilly spring morning, my sweetheart, G-Money, and I meet in the city to have lunch.
I am already in Chicago for my final class of the winter term. I coaxed G-Money to join me for lunch. I took the Metra, where I found this silly sign. The idea that stolen purses are on the prowl and lurking in Chicago still tickles me. 
“A penny for your thoughts.” What if we donated a penny for each Tweet or Facebook post we put out there? Let’s ask people for a penny in exchange for their thoughts on a topic; politics, the Gulf oil spill, Afghanistan. Think of the money we could raise. Just think of the good you could do. We could provide books to every child. We could feed the hungry. Amy Ferris leaves
“I salute you,” said Barb, squeezing my elbow and pointing to my ruby-red stilettos. “I love those shoes.”
“Oh, I do love these shoes,” I replied. “But my feet have changed. I’m all flop-footed. This might be the last time I wear them.”
I love my Sassy Shoes also know as Come-Get-Me Shoes (CMG Shoes.) I have several pair: black, red, velvet brown, and a glittery golden faux snake-skin. When I wear my CGM Shoes, I feel sexy and fashionable. Until recently. My heels slip, and the shoes clomp to the floor in a most uncharming way. Last winter, to my embarrassment, a Good Samaritan grabbed me by the elbow and said, “Here, let me help you.”
“I know, I have the same problem,” said Barb. She demonstrated her own