A half Ironman

I could hardly get out of bed the next morning.

And — I was just a spectator.

The half Ironman 70.3 Ohio was slated as a 1.2 mile swim from the Carlee Emily Ferry, 56-mile bike ride through beautiful farmland and a 13.1 mile run through historic downtown Sandusky, a popular coastal destination. But the Canadian smoke and the whipping winds made Lake Erie unsafe to swim. So the event turned into a duathlon instead.

Over 1500 endurance athletes came from all over the world for the race. Tim Synowies, 22, won in 3:23:11 after driving from New York where he had won another Ironman. Female winner, Carly Schrom, 26, based in Wisconsin, won her division in 3: 48 :10.

My nephew, Brook Swartz, and his wife LeeAnn drove 16 hours from Enterprise, Alabama so Brook, 53, a retired Army Blackhawk pilot, could conquer the challenge.

Brook and the rest of the Ironman participates were amazing — almost superhuman to me. After putting their bodies through 69.1 miles of grueling exercise, they came across the finish line celebrating with actual smiles on their faces.

If you live near me, you can compare that to pedaling your bike to Marion, Ohio, turning around and pedaling back — and then quickly jumping off your bike and running to Bucyrus — to shout for joy. Oh, yo!

~~~

And then, there I was the next morning at cardio rehab

Moaning.

Two minutes into pedaling my recumbent bike, I was thinking, “ I just can’t do this. No way am I going to make the 20 minutes today.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the physical therapist’s table with two pillows and a warming blanket. It was calling my name.

All of a sudden, I had sweet memories of Brook laughing and waving when finishing his 57-mile bike race and later saying, “My knee hurt so badly I really had to use mind over matter to finish the run .”

A bit of that Ironman grit and mind over matter must have surged through my body after that because I took off on my NuStep bike like a young endurance athlete. When I finished my 20 minute “ride,” I strutted to the water cooler for hydration, got my antiseptic wipes to clean my bike’s handle bars and headed off toward my two-pound weights.

I was a renewed woman.

‘Cause I wanted to be like Brook.

I want to age well — to be able to command my body to do hard things when it wants to quit. Surprisingly, I’m only now realizing it takes a lot more will power and a lot more “I think I cans” to overcome all these unexpected physical and emotional pains that are coming with aging.

Remember the children’s book “The Little Engine That Could” where the little train got to the top of the mountain? I think I can — I think I can — I think I can — I think I can — I think I can — I think I can — I think I can.

I want to be “The Little Old Lady Who Could.”

I’m going to exercise more, practice positive self talk, surround myself with strong-willed people and add another song to my repertoire of “Oh What A Beautiful Morning” — so I can change my focus when I want to give up.

Hang on, Sloopy
Sloopy, hang on
Hang on, Sloopy
Sloopy, hang on

I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

Join me, won’t you?

I think we can.

It’ll Be OK.

~~~
"When you do squats, are your knees supposed to sound like a goat chewing on an aluminum can stuffed with celery?” ~ Krishanti Dee

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But sometimes forget.

The brain isn’t designed to keep us happy; it’s designed to keep us alive.

So positive thinking is not natural; negative thinking is.

Our brains are constantly looking for danger or things out of place.

It can make us anxious at any age.

But — there’s good news.

We can choose to think positively so we can reduce our stress and anxiety.

Therapists often use guided mental imagery and meditation to help people relax and reframe their thoughts. Through visualization people can alter and control physical and emotional pain by imagining much safer situations and spaces.

But wait.

What about people like me

and researcher, hypnotherapist Dr. Paulina Trevena, who have aphantasia — the inability to visualize? How can we shift our thinking when we can’t see things in our mind’s eye?

I attended an online workshop of Dr. Trevena’s recently and was reminded of a technique that doesn’t need visualization. This simple technique is a way for everyone to take control of their negative thoughts. You don’t have to visualize.

Before I even opened my laptop for the Calming the Aphantasic Mind workshop the other day I had to run to the bathroom two times. I don’t know why I always get nervous before doing a Zoom meeting or Facetime call. Yep. One more trip — then I could click JOIN.

What a fun 75 minutes I had relearning how to take control of the negative thoughts in my head. The “shitlist” as Dr. Trevena calls it. (That’s kind of fitting for me. ha ha!). The worries that keep coming back. The voice that doesn’t always tell the truth. The voice that echoes other people’s opinions.

Here’s a simple technique she had us practice for those moments we feel our hearts racing, a headache coming on, lightheadedness, panic, shortness of breath, sweating palms, tightness in our jaw, tingling in our hands — an urge to go to the bathroom:

STOP THE BUS

1. Become aware of what you are thinking: identify your negative thought.

2. Take a deep breath. Breathe in through your nose to a 4 count; exhale through your mouth to an 8 count.

3. Be sure to keep looking UP since posture trains the brain.

4. Choose a song that you love.

5. Stand up, walk, jump, or dance and sing your song either in your head or out loud. The mind likes fun.

6. Now, choose a better thought — one you want to think.

Let me show you how it works.

Replace a negative thought with a positive one.

Try it. Let me know how it goes in the comment section below.

Repeat it over and over if you need to. The brain learns through repetition.

It may seem silly, but silly works. The mind and body work together; they influence each other. If you calm one, you calm the other. That’s why yoga, music therapy, breath work, tai chi, muscle relaxation, and whole brain living help reduce anxiety and help you feel better overall.

The technique I shared today is an easy way to calm the mind in an actual anxiety-filled moment. No one has to know that you took a deep breathe and are singing a song in your head while changing a negative thought into a positive one.

By the way, you could teach this simple trick to your anxious children and grandchildren before school starts. Show them how to do it in their heads. It’ll be their secret weapon. Then practice it with them so they stay calmer this school year.

Take control of those run-away thoughts. Stop The Bus.

It’ll Be OK.

~~~

“I think too much. I think ahead, I think behind, I think sideways. I think it all. If it exists, I’ve f***ing thought of it.” ~ but first, Joy

Dr. Paulina Trevena, Phd is a researcher, hypnotherapist and international speaker specializing in aphantasia. She is bilingual, speaking Polish and English. I linked her official website here if you’d like to read more about her work.

QUESTION: WHAT DO YOU DO TO RELIEVE STRESS?

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Well, the truth is we are all full of creative energy. Everyone has the ability to use their imagination to generate original ideas at any age. Whether it’s writing stories, painting canvases, playing a musical instrument, designing graphics, writing code, doing science experiments, building a chicken coop, putting together an exercise program, planning dinner, cracking a witty joke, organizing living spaces, each of us has a well of creativity inside of us.

As Pablo Picasso once said, “Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.”

Last spring I joined an on-line group studying Julia Cameron’s book The Artist’s Way. It has actually been a great motivator for me. Cameron tells the reader how to “refill their well” or “restock their pond” so they have somewhere to draw creativity from in the future.

Her two basic tools to “letting out” your inner creator are Morning Pages and Artist’s Dates. Morning Pages is basically journaling, freeing your mind of clutter to make room for creative ideas. Cameron encourages people to write about anything as long as it’s three pages long. No one is to ever see it. Personally, I enjoyed writing a letter to God everyday.

What I really got hyped up on were the Artist’s Dates because they were 2- hour weekly playdates with my inner child. They could be as simple or elaborate as I wanted so I painted rocks, planted a garden, walked in the cemetery, played I Spy with my camera, visited a museum, watched cloud formations, browsed an antique store — along with a myriad of other things — all by myself.

Recently, however, I bent the rules a bit and had the best-ever playdate with my friend, Kathy, at her lake house in Michigan. An accomplished artist, Kathy got out her paint supplies and invited another friend and me to play. It was so much fun. I was like a giddy kid. After teaching us some simple watercoloring techniques, Kathy encouraged us to let go, to loosen our grips on our brushes, to let it flow, to create — just as Julia Cameron suggested in The Artist’s Way.

When I got home, I was still so excited I framed one of my watercolors right away.

“A Michigan Sunrise” ~ by Jan Stoneburner

My ultimate goal is to write a novel for middle-schoolers some day. I’m thinking this Artist’s Way course may be “filling my well” full enough that I may actually do it.

Even though I’m personally interested in the fine arts like writing & painting, I want to stress that creativity is not just art, writing and music like some people think. It includes so many other things that require original thought.

If you are interested in finding your own unique creativity, in unblocking years of repressed ideas for inventions or in nurturing the creative projects you feel bubbling up inside, try Morning Pages and Artist’s Dates for 12 weeks. You will be amazed by the enthusiasm that wells up inside of you and the fear of failure that disappears.

“Creativity is intelligence having fun.” ~ Albert Einstein

It’ll Be OK.

~~~
"Relax. We’re all crazy. It’s not a competition.” ~ Keep Calm

Sunrise at Sand Lake in Onsted, Michigan

Dear Readers: I invite you to leave a message each week because I’d love to hear from you, but no worries if you don’t want to comment. I feel blessed just knowing you’re here. ~ Jan xoxo

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One of my favorite things to do is share stories in my What Young People Can Teach Us series throughout the year. I’ve noticed as I age, I’m often falling behind, unaware of changes in society.

Family photo: Mike, Easton, Grayson, Erin, and Jovie

I’m really excited to introduce you to The Smiths.

I have known Erin (McClure) and Mike Smith since they were in high school. Erin is Executor Director of The Wyandot County Community Foundation, and Mike is a Sergeant in the Ohio State Patrol. These two young people are amazing humans. Married 20 years this September, Erin and Mike have three beautiful children.

To be honest, however, Life for them hasn’t always been easy. Here Erin writes about one of their struggles as special needs parents.

The Home.

Mar 23, 2026

Eight years ago today we moved into our new home.

It’s a long story that I don’t think anyone really cares about - but the short story is, an autism diagnosis changed everything for us. Our beautiful house uptown was too close to a railroad, on the busiest street in town with semi truck traffic and zero backyard.

I loved that house, but it didn’t work for our family anymore. I still miss it and remember all the great times we had in that house when I drive by.

After several missteps purchasing a better home for us, we ended up buying a lot in my parents’ neighborhood and building a simple two-story home. It has four bedrooms, which was perfect as we added three children to our family since moving back to town in 2012.

We made sure the basement had hookups for a future apartment. We built the privacy fence of our dreams on a large (for us) backyard. Our builders were so nice and have become like family to us. We love our home and neighbors, and we love living where we do.

I remember walking into the house that first day that it was officially ours and commenting that it would never be that clean again.

I haven’t always been the tidiest person in the world, but I have always strived to make sure my house was mostly clean and picked up. When I was staying at home, it was easier but also harder because I had young children around who made messes everywhere. :)

Now that I am working two different jobs, my home has suffered some. I think that is pretty normal. But as an autism family and a shift work family, we are very rarely here at the same time and it’s very difficult to keep consistent cleaning schedules. But I made it work for a couple of years.

And then regression. And aggression. And being so exhausted from keeping us all safe.

Then enter in round 2 or maybe 3 or 4 of property destruction, and everything is off the table now. And we have added new concerning behaviors that have destroyed the carpet in Grayson’s bedroom, upstairs hallway and steps - and we are trying to figure out the best way to manage that. Not to mention our dog who has health issues adding to the burden. I have spent a small fortune on enzyme cleaners and carpet cleaning machines, not to mention anti-nausea medication and special food for the dog.

Add in therapists coming into our home twice a week now for two half-days and I am answering the door and asking for forgiveness because I am so embarassed by the state of my home. (They are always so gracious!) I spend hours the night before picking up, throwing things away, cleaning surfaces and it doesn’t even make a dent.

I have always been told that the mess will still be there so enjoy the time today. But my issue is the mess compounds. Exponentially. Surely they weren’t talking about autism messes.

Easton keeps his room clean, and he unloads the dishwasher for me. Laundry though is taboo and I can only do it at certain times because Grayson becomes obsessed with the washer running.

While my house was once the meeting place of friends and family, we have all but stopped that. My own parents haven’t even been to my house in months by my own request. My brother and his family have never been to my house. We have friends who want to visit this spring, and I am already worried. We hired a cleaning service that comes once a month to help me out, which has been a lifesaver.

As the “keeper of the home” - a title I have loved and prided myself in for many years now, I feel discouraged. The walls in Grayson’s bedroom are crumbling (we are waiting on a contractor to come fix them - just waiting on approvals). My kids have created “strategies to get around the pee puddles” on the carpet upstairs - their words. Chocolate and food are smeared on my couch cushions. Other substances - unknown to us - are handprinted on the walls. Blankets and curtains and just anyone walking past can be used as a tissue at any time.

This morning I spent about an hour while Grayson had in-home therapy working in his bedroom and trying to keep from bawling. I have probably six or seven loads of laundry - and mind you, I just picked his bedroom up a few days ago. He must change his outfit completely every time we do a diaper change.

It’s all too much. It’s too much.

I am having trouble reconciling that a home is supposed to feel warm and welcoming and like a retreat from the world. That is all I knew growing up. That I cannot replicate that for my children is very hard for me. As always, my prayer is that my kids will remember that I tried.

Why am I sharing this? I don’t know. It’s vulnerable. BUT - I highly doubt we are the only family battling these issues. I bet that some typical families might also be dealing with similar things. If so, you are not alone.

~~~

I am so glad that Erin is willing to be vulnerable, to share her life as a special needs parent with us. We can all learn so much from her. Even though I was a teacher for over 30 years, I never heard about autism back then except for the “Rain Man” stereotype. Before the 1990’s many of the kids who had disabilities dropped out before they even got to the high school. And some were labeled ADHD when they shouldn’t have been.

As the definition for autism has expanded over the years, research says 1 in 31 children aged 8 in the US have an Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). So the spectrum we hear about is actually a wide range of strengths, support needs and experiences varying from person to person. The levels of severity of autism are now based on the amount of daily support a person needs.

Have you been in the dark ages like me?

I hope you will subscribe to Erin’s new Substack page, where you can read the raw truth about how a young couple copes with severe non-verbal autism. You can also find her book Take Heart: Our Everyday Autism on Amazon. Along with using Elisabeth Elliot’s wise words, “Just do the next thing” to get through the day, Erin focuses on the rainbow to lift her spirits.

“I love color. I love order. I have so little order in my life that I often put things in rainbow order.” Just recently after removing soiled carpet, Erin and Mike had their stairway painted in rainbow colors. And Erin shared, “Now when I head upstairs with laundry, to change a diaper, to clean a bathroom, to give Grayson a shower, it serves as a powerful reminder to me that God keeps His promises.”

Somewhere over the rainbow way up high

In the land I heard of once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true

It’ll Be OK.

Please, feel free to leave encouraging words, share your experiences with autism or reach out to Erin for support.

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Below are links for

Erin’s Substack

Erin’s book Take Heart: Our Everyday Autism

They say that the involuntary startle reflex can actually be the result of an overactive nervous system driven by stress or anxiety — that our peripheral vision lacks sharp detail so our high-alert brains guess what we see.

I’ve been soooooo jumpy lately. I wonder?

The other night I was headed for our garage to get some more gardening tools when I almost went into fight or flight.

“Oh, for heaven sakes, you idiot. That’s not a snake. That’s the hose.”

I had to laugh out loud when I realized what the brown squiggly thing was in the grass. I took a deep breath and went back to weeding my flowerbed.

My poor husband.

I was deep in thought snipping the dead heads off my marigolds when I was startled by a dark figure beside me. I slumped to the ground and grabbed my chest.

When I realized who it was, I yelled, “I told you to quit sneaking up on me like that. You’re always doing that. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“I was just going to see if you needed any help, Hon.”

It seems as if I haven’t been myself since I had my heart catheterization in April. I was convinced that the beta blocker the doctor had prescribed was causing some weird side effects after seven weeks. With all the confidence of a patient who was bound and determined to advocate for herself at her check up, I announced to the doctor. “Like right now, I feel a bit shaky and light headed. My jaw feels funny. Am I going to have a stroke? My legs are cold and my feet are tingly. Oh, and I’m a bit short of breath sometimes.”

“No, you’re not having a stroke. All your tests look really good, and your blood pressure is great. Actually, you’re showing some signs of anxiety. You’re thinking and worrying too much. Let’s get you set up for some cardio rehab. Exercise will help. ”

“Oh sure,” I was thinking, “you’re going to say it’s all in my head. I hate exercise.”

Well, guess what? I’m in cardio rehab now exercising three mornings a week, and my so-called side effects are gone.

You see, like many people, when we perceive a threat or danger, our autonomic nervous systems, releases stress hormones into our systems causing anxiety. Although it’s normal to be anxious occasionally, overwhelming stress shows up in our minds and bodies as panic, apprehension, a sense of doom, trouble concentrating, tremors, dizziness, muscle aches, chills, numbness.

The doctor explained I was ripe for anxiety because I had had an extremely painful kidney stone attack right before my heart problems. The excruciating pain from a kidney stone causes acute stress, flooding the body with a massive amount of stress hormones.

I guess anxiety can creep up on you. But they say there are things you can do.

#1 Exercise.

I have to admit I’ve always avoided “organized” exercise, but the cardio nurses monitoring me are wonderful. They tell me that being physical interrupts the body’s stress responses and alters brain chemistry. (It even causes you to sprout new arteries.)

So every step I take on that d@&+ recumbent elliptical bike, I say, “Come on brain give me a shot of those anti-anxiety chemicals you’re hiding up there.” I beg the arm bike /upper-body ergometer, “Please, lower my cortisol.” And when I do squats with the weights, I say, “Owww!”

So don’t stress. Have a ball — an exercise ball, that is.

It’ll Be OK.

~~~
"Alexa, do my cardio session for me.” ~ Kimberly Burden

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“No more pencils, no more books. No more teachers’ dirty looks!”

Oh, how I remember the days when I was a teacher and we celebrated sending the kids home to their parents for the summer — fifty million American kids out of school for several months. Imagine it. That’s like 480 Ohio State football stadiums filled to the brim with 5-18 year olds. Kids who are happy, sad, excited, depressed, joyful, hateful, cheerful, scared, ecstatic, angry. Yikes!

Several years ago, because some politicians were belittling teachers for “only working 9 months a year,” I got a bit miffed and wrote an article about how teachers needed the summers off to Relax, Refresh and Renew. But you know what? I think with all the mental health issues on the rise among our youth today, it’s just as important, if not more so, for students to have time for the 3 R’s too.

“Tag. You’re It, Mom & Dad!”

Don’t worry! I know you moms and dads, grandparents are really busy now-a-days and don’t always know how to help your struggling children. I promise. I’m not going to leave you stranded. I’m really excited to introduce you to a special online friend of mine who can equip busy adults with the tools needed to support children with emotional needs. Not only does she have a successful therapy practice, but she has books, newsletters, speeches and on-line articles for parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and neighbors who really want to understand and communicate effectively with children this summer. I love how she believes “Parenting is not about perfection, but about connection.”

Meet Tricia Thornton, LPC, RPT, C-IPNB, a therapist, speaker and author located in Nashville, Tennessee. Tricia has written two books, Beyond Blessed Parenting and Blessings From Fear that are wonderful resources.

She has years of proven expertise. In 2023 she counseled many of those affected by the mass shootings at The Covenant School in Nashville.

Photo from Tricia’s Thornton’s website

Tricia and I met a couple years ago through an online writing group. I was immediately drawn to her when I found out she was sequestering herself at my favorite place — the beach — while writing her first book. Later, we discovered we had both been school guidance counselors and shared a deep respect for Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor’s work on whole brain living.

Although I am a retired teacher now, I still care about young people. So I asked Tricia if she would comment on the following five hypothetical scenarios I made up to shed some light on how to help children who struggled during school last year. I also wanted to give you an example of the great advice she shares in her instagram videos. I’m hoping you can relate these scenarios somehow to situations you may be experiencing with your children.

Hypothetical #1:

My 8 year-old son was bullied during the school year. He’s pretty timid and backward now. How can I help him over the summer to heal and prepare for next year?

When a child has been bullied, our first instinct is often to help them become tougher. But before children can become brave again, they need to feel safe again. Summer can be a wonderful time to help your child remember who they are outside of the hurt they experienced at school.

Bullying can leave a child’s nervous system on high alert. What may look like timidity is often a child whose brain has learned that people are not always safe. Healing starts with helping him reconnect with experiences that remind him of his strengths, his competence, and his worth.

Spend time doing activities where he feels successful. Encourage friendships with kind peers. Give him opportunities to make choices, solve problems, and take healthy risks. Most importantly, listen more than you advise. Let him tell his story without rushing to fix it. Remember to acknowledge when you catch him being brave and confident.

I often remind parents that confidence doesn’t come from telling children they’re strong. Confidence comes from experiences that allow them to discover their own strength.

As the next school year approaches, talk openly about his worries. Help him create a plan to handle difficult situations and identify trusted adults he can turn to for help. The goal isn’t to convince him that nothing bad will happen. The goal is to help him believe that whatever happens, he won’t have to face it alone.

Hypothetical #2:

OMG, I just found out my sweet 8th grade daughter is actually the bully at school. I’m shocked. What should I do?

This can often be a painful discovery for a parent because it challenges the image we have of our child.

As difficult as it may be, try not to start with shame. Shame rarely creates empathy; it usually creates defensiveness. Shame disrupts an authentic connection.

Instead, get curious. Bullying behavior is never okay, but it is often a clue. Sometimes children bully because they are seeking status, struggling with insecurity, trying to fit in socially, or coping with their own emotional pain. Often, a child who bullies does not yet have the skills developed, and we want to be the safe person to walk alongside them as they learn.

One reassuring concept is that there is always a message behind every behavior.

Hold her accountable while remaining connected. Accountability means helping her understand the impact of her actions, make amends where appropriate, and develop healthier ways of relating to peers. Connection means helping her believe that making a mistake does not make her a bad person.

One of the most important questions you can ask is: “Help me understand what was happening for you.” This question invites her to be open rather than shamed.

When children learn to understand their own emotions, they become much more capable of understanding others’ emotions.

Hypothetical #3:

My 2nd grade daughter cries all the time. She misses her teacher who is out of town for the summer. What can I do?

While the tears may seem excessive, they actually tell us something important: your daughter formed a meaningful attachment to someone who made her feel safe, seen, and valued.

Rather than trying to talk her out of her sadness, start by affirming and acknowledging her feelings. “You really loved your teacher, and it’s hard not seeing her.”

Children often struggle when they experience change, even positive change. Their brains thrive on predictability and connection. Missing someone isn’t a problem to solve—it’s an emotion to support.

You might encourage your daughter to write letters, draw pictures, make a collage, or keep a journal of things she’d like to tell her teacher when school resumes. This allows her to maintain a symbolic connection while learning an important life lesson: we can miss people and still be okay. Creativity is a way for her brain to reset and feel settled again.

At the same time, help her invest in summer experiences, friendships, and family routines. When children are grieving a change, they don’t need us to erase the feeling. They need us to help them carry it.

Remember, sadness is not a sign that something is wrong. It’s often evidence that something mattered.

Hypothetical #4:

My husband and I are getting a divorce. Our teenage children won’t talk to us. They stay away from home as much as they can. Should we just leave them alone?

Teenagers often process pain differently than younger children. While some become emotional and expressive, others become distant and unavailable. What looks like indifference is often protection.

I would not force conversations, but I also would not interpret their silence as a desire to be left completely alone.

Your children need to know three things: this is not their fault, they do not have to choose sides, and both parents remain available to them.

Continue making invitations for connection without pressure. A simple “I’m here whenever you want to talk” can go a long way. It is okay to text these types of statements to your teens. Look for side-by-side opportunities for connection—car rides, walks, meals, errands—rather than formal sit-down discussions.

One of the greatest gifts parents can give children during divorce is emotional steadiness. Your children don’t need perfect parents. They need parents who can walk alongside them even in their anger, sadness, confusion, and distance without becoming defensive.

The message should be clear: “You don’t have to protect us from your feelings. We can handle them.”

Often, teenagers begin talking when they trust that their emotions won’t create more chaos than they’re already experiencing.

Hypothetical #5:

My 6th grade son doesn’t want to go back to school next year. He wants to be homeschooled because he says there are too many crazy kids there. He says they make him nervous. Should I honor his wishes?

Before making a schooling decision, I would spend time understanding what his request is underneath.

Children often communicate important information through seemingly simple statements. “The kids make me nervous” could mean many things. Is he overwhelmed by noise? Struggling socially? Experiencing anxiety? Being bullied? Feeling unsafe?

The goal is not to immediately say yes or no. The goal is to understand the need beneath the request.

If anxiety is driving his desire to leave school, we want to be careful about making decisions that unintentionally teach his brain that avoidance is the solution to discomfort. While avoidance provides short-term relief, it often strengthens anxiety over time. Summer is a good time to build his confidence before he returns to school next year.

At the same time, if there are legitimate concerns about the school environment, those deserve serious attention.

I encourage parents to gather information, involve trusted school personnel, and explore support options before making a final decision. Sometimes children need a different environment. Sometimes they need help building the skills and confidence to navigate the environment they’re already in.

The question isn’t simply, “What does my child want?” The deeper question is, “What will help my child grow?”

Photo from the internet.

I have to admit when Tricia wrote, “ …When children are grieving a change, they don’t need us to erase the feeling. They need us to help them carry it.

Remember, sadness is not a sign that something is wrong. It’s often evidence that something mattered,” I teared up.

Students do matter. Teachers matter. Parents matter.

They often need to Relax, Refresh, Renew — and Reconnect .

Thank heavens for Summer!

It’ll Be OK.

~~~

“Curious how the future generation is coming along? My toddler can change the settings on an iPad but still can’t figure out a fork.” ~ simoncholland

QUESTION: WAS THIS ARTICLE HELPFUL?

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If you would like more information on how to help your children, here are links to Tricia’s website and instagram page. Both of her books are available on Amazon.

https://www.triciathornton.com/

https://www.instagram.com/triciathorntontherapy/

I’m obsessed. I love flowers.

And now that I’m retired I have the time to plant them, water them, look at them, smell them, photograph them, pick them, arrange them. I even love finding unique ones so I can identify them with my Picture This app.

The other day as we were driving out of town, I yelled, “Honey…”

But before I could finish, my husband interrupted, “Nope. We’re not stopping. I know there’s probably a beautiful, rare flower out there in that field somewhere, but you’re going to have to enjoy it from in here today.” Ha!

To be honest, I haven’t always been the best at growing flowers. I was pretty much focused on my children and my teaching career most of my life. Matter-of-fact, I used to be a bit of a disaster. I was really disappointed the year not a single sunflower seed I planted sprouted. Not one. Probably that d@^n squirrel ate them for lunch one day. And then there was the first time I tried to grow an amaryllis. It turned out looking like some weird kind of twisted tulip. Yikes!

But I’m doing better now. Aging actually has some benefits, after all.

Since I’m not bustling around trying to solve all the problems in the world anymore, I have time to stop and smell the roses. In that stillness, I have discovered that the natural symmetry I see while looking at flowers actually boosts my spirits and soothes my soul. It’s proven that the same balance and harmony that I finally found in a flower has been used by artists and architects to create beauty throughout history.

Who knew I could have calmed my crazy high school-teacher-self by soaking in a tub of rose petals instead of poking thorns in a voodoo doll? Ha!

You see, researchers explain there is a Divine Design in Nature that appeals to the human eye called the Golden Ratio — God’s perfect symmetry — featuring the Fibonacci Sequence where each number is the sum of the two preceding it.

Many of us have realized we can produce positive emotions in ourselves just by spending time in our gardens, surrounded by the Golden Ratio — God’s perfect symmetry. Even the great American writer/philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson once noted, "The earth laughs in flowers."

Why not take a few minutes today and look for some of that tranquility?

According to AI, to see the Golden Ratio and Fibonacci sequence in flowers, all you have to do is count parts and look closely at spiral patterns.

1. Count the Petals

Most flowers have a specific number of petals that matches a Fibonacci number (1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89). For example: hibiscus have 5, and marigolds have 13.

2. Trace the Seed Spirals

Look directly down at the center of composite flower heads. You will see intersecting spirals curving clockwise and counter-clockwise.

Sunflowers and Daisies for example: Count the spirals moving in one direction, then count the spirals moving the other way. You will almost always get two adjacent Fibonacci numbers, like 21 and 34, or 34 and 55.

3. Look at Leaf Arrangements

Look at how leaves stack along a plant stem from a top-down view. Plants use the golden angle (137.5 degrees) to rotate each new leaf so it does not block the sun from the leaf directly below it.

If you’re a city dweller or live in an apartment, it may be a bit more difficult; but I promise there are ways you can find serenity in flowers too.

1. Take a walk in the park

2. Visit a local flower vendor

3. Put a bouquet from the grocery on your kitchen table

4. Plant marigold seeds in styrofoam cups with your children or grandchildren

5. Ask your son or daughter for a monthly delivery from your local florist as a Christmas present

   Go ahead. Try filling your life with a good dose of flowers and see what happens. I know it sounds like such a silly, simple home remedy. I know a lot of people think going to a bar or yelling at the TV is a much better cure for a bad day. But I promise. “In joy or sadness flowers are our constant friends.” ~ Okakura Kakuza

   

   Starting with this bouquet from me ~ Love, Jan xoxo

It’ll Be OK.

~~~

“You know you’re a gardener when you’re happy to devote three months of your life growing tomatoes to save $1.27.” ~ Unknown

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Also check out my friend Cathey Cone’s article about her Nature walk in Manito Park in Spokane, Washington recently. It’s linked here. You may see some examples of the Golden Ratio in her beautiful photos.

I’m back. The Little Old Lady with the Red Purse. You know me as Jan’s inner child who loves to dress up and have fun sharing old-fashion grammar lessons. I promise this retired English teacher has exchanged her red pen for her snazzy red purse. Her inner child operates without judgment or fear. She loves to have fun. It’s that other more professional side of her that can still get nervous at 79.

Aging isn’t easy. Sometimes we find ourselves focusing on our swollen ankles and missing our friends too much. If you’re tired or depressed, getting in touch with your inner child can help. Joy resides in the Right Side of your brain just waiting for you to call. You can take a walk in the woods, paint a rock, listen to 60’s music, draw ridiculous cartoons, dance around the room, laugh out loud — be in the moment; and it’ll show up. There’s no room for past regrets or future anxieties when you let your inner child “out.” If you’re confined to a a chair, go ahead. Sing children songs at the top of your lungs. How about “Jesus Loves You,” “Old McDonald Had A Farm” or “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer On The Wall” — depending on your childhood? Ha!

Even formal grammar can be fun, if you let it. (PS. Jan will be back next week.)

COLLECTIVE NOUNS are single words used to name groups. Those multiple individuals considered as one unit usually take a singular verb. Words like jury, staff, choir, flock, board, team, family, class are examples. But when individuals in the groups are doing individual things they require plural verbs.

1. The team is celebrating the championship.

2. The team are changing their shirts.

1. My family is driving across country.

2. My family are ordering ten different meals.

1. The staff agrees on the new policy.

2. The staff disagree on the new proposal.

See wasn’t that fun? *wink

Now

Find a picture of yourself doing something “crazy” as a child. One that will make you smile. Post it where you can see it or carry it in your billfold. It will help you remember that a joyful child still lives inside of you, needing to PLAY.

It’ll Be OK.

~~~

“I’m happy to report that my inner child is still ageless and currently suggesting we eat cake for dinner.” ~ AI

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OMG I read recently that Jeanne Calmont, a French woman, lived 122 years and 164 days — the longest human life span ever recorded. I bet she had a lot of antiques on her shelves. Ha!

She definitely wasn’t worried about being an angel or passing her belongings down like me because she was too busy taking fencing lessons at 88 and riding her bike at 100. She had what the French call joie de vivre — a joy for life.

Well, I did have a pretty joy-filled Mother’s Day Weekend myself. As I told my readers last week, I was going to show my daughters my trusty Curio App and then try to cajole them into taking some of my precious, close-to-my-heart antiques home with them.

Well, shout it out loud.

My husband’s vintage cold-painted figurine of a Jack Russell Terrier from the early 20th Century is now sitting on my younger daughter’s shelf — at her house.

And the mysterious stick I asked my readers to identify now rests on my older daughter’s piano — at her house.

I know. It’s not much. But it’s a start.

I may have tried to hustle them into taking more, but my husband leaned over and sarcastically whispered, “Now, why don’t you ask them for the $40 the app says they’re worth.” Yikes!

I get it. I got caught up in the old-age act of purging. I don’t know if I was trying to let go, alleviate a family burden, declutter for safety or manage my own estate.

I’ve always known the key to a happy life is NOT your possessions. Obviously, personal connections are still the most valuable things — even more so as we age. I certainly re-learned that with last week’s “Guess-what-this-thing-is” game.

No one guessed that the myterious stick was a tonograph — a vintage music education tool valued at $40. Even AI got it wrong at first.

BUT

one of my subscribers, a former student, was the first to make a good guess so I decided to award him a vintage prize. You see, Cory Sayre is one of those personal connections that has made my life better over the years.

Along with being super smart and a great conversationalist, Cory is an outstanding tournament pool player. And I just happened to have an unopened card of Looney Tunes cue chalk cubes from 1995 to give him. (Don’t ask me how or why I had them???)

As we age, we do forget a lot — like where we got things. Ha! But it’s good to remember that strong social bonds are the things that boost longevity — not a coffee table from the 1800’s. Harvard School of Public Health actually says personal connections help lower blood pressure, reduce inflammation, and lower risk of chronic disease. And they make us happy.

Well, I had so much fun spending time with Cory the other day I may have to take some billiard lessons soon.

I might just become a pool shark, swimming in joy, by the time I’m 80.

Valuing people

It’ll Be OK.

~~~

“We’ve been friends for so long, I can’t remember which one of us is the bad influence.” ~ Anonymous

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I don’t know how it happened, but the antique-identifying app on my cellphone got my picture while I was trying to record some of the old(er) things I have around my house. I guess to be an actual antique you have to be at least 100 years old. Whew! I’ve got twenty more years to go.

That’s certainly a pick-me-upper; but as I wrote in a much earlier blog article, I still have an old-age problem.

June 23, 2022

My kids don’t want my stuff. “Oh, you can go ahead & give it to someone else or just put it in a garage sale,” they said.

I hadn’t realized that over the years I had developed a design style called “Garage Sale.” In my mind, it’s called “Nostalgia.” It features a neutral background with a splash of memories on all the walls and shelves.

A polymer thank you rose from Craig, Old Glory that Brook flew over Afghanistan, a picture of the 1995-96 Lady Rams basketball team, David’s Wicked playbill, an empty green Perrier bottle from Paris, Kathy’s hand-painted Christmas card, my grandma’s sauerkraut crock, stones retrieved from the Bay of Naples, my dad’s wings from WWII, Misty’s counted-cross stitch…

I guess not everyone wants “heirlooms-to-be” cluttering their house like me. For sure, it would be a boring world if we were all the same, but it’s still hard for me to believe my daughters don’t want my salt & pepper shakers and my pine cone collection. (Wink)

It’s interesting to note that the Myers-Briggs Personality Test identifies people as Thinkers and Feelers -- those who are more logic-centered and those who are more emotion-centered. According to Erica Hepper, Ph.D, nostalgia is actually a feeling. She explains, “Nostalgia is the warm, fuzzy emotion that we feel when we think about fond memories from our past.”

It is not surprising then that aging Feelers like me surround themselves with stuff that reminds them of people, places and experiences they have loved. I guess some of us like to enjoy a moment -- both as it happens -- and then AGAIN as a moment-O. Ha!

I have accepted that today’s young people like the Minimalist style and that someday my stuff will be on garage sale tables spread across the front yard. But I really want you to know, when my family goes to put one of those ugly little $.25 stickers on my second place golf trophy, my Spirit’s going to rise up & shout in their ears, “Even that moment was Priceless.”

Photo of Curio — Antique Identifier App from the Apple Store available for $5-$7 a month.

Well, okay, I’m going to continue working on accepting the fact that my daughters don’t want all the Vintage and Retro stuff I have collected over the years. After all, I have to admit most of that Vintage outdated junk from 20-99 years ago is only good for carrying nostalgia and fond memories for me. And my crazy Retro things are easy to find. They’re just reproductions from the 1960’s - 1990’s. I promise. I’m going to look to the future…

But. Wait. A. Minute. What about NaNa’s 18th Century biscuit jar and Mi Mi’s miniature cast iron stove? What about the Zischkau family’s carved mahogany table with claw-and-ball-feet that I use as a coffee table?

My Curio App says these precious, close-to-my-heart things are actually worth quite a bit. For heaven’s sakes then. I’m not giving up that easily. I’ve got an idea. This weekend when we’re all together for Mother’s Day, I’m going to casually break out my trusty new Curio App and very subtly talk about all the interesting information it gives about my precious, close-to-my-heart antiques. I’ll let you know if my girls fall for it.

Even if they don’t, you folks might enjoy trying the Curio App sometime. It’s so simple to use. All you have to do is take a pictures of your precious, close-to-your heart items and let the App scan the photos. Within seconds you see a description and a history with its estimated value and visual matches. I know I had fun finding out that my mom’s little change purse, a precious, close-to-my heart antique, was probably passed down to her from one of her great aunts.

These two pictures are an example of the information you see on the Curio App.

And I’ve also enjoyed finding out about my dad’s sterling silver WWII U.S. Army Air Force pilot wings. This precious, close-to-my-heart symbol of honor and achievement means much more to me than its $250 value. It’s probably the reason many of us want to build a bridge between the past and present with family heirlooms as we age, hoping to create a sense of identity in the next generation — letting them know they already belong to something greater than themselves.

I found another great way you may want to use the App. When you’re in an antique store, at a flea market or roaming around a garage sale, it can tell you what something is and what it’s worth. I know I had to use it to identify this precious, close-to-my-heart, mysterious piece of wood that I found among my NaNa’s belongings.

Let’s have some fun. Take a guess what it is. I’ll send one of my precious, close-to-my-heart vintage, retro or antique items to the first person to identify this item correctly in the comment section ON THIS PAGE. I’ll announce the winner right here next week. (If you’re reading this in your email, all you have to do is click on the title and it will transfer you here so you can comment).

This is going to be hysterical. I mean historical.

It’ll Be OK.

Precious and close-to-my-heart, (Wink)

~Mom xoxo

~~~
"I collect antiques because I like my furniture to have more wrinkles than me.” ~ Etsy

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Photo: Sunset on Sanibel Island, Florida, February 14, 2026

You might call us the modern-day Bickersons — the contentious, yet deeply connected couple in the hit radio comedy series back in the 1940’s- 50’s. John and Blanche bickered about everything from who left the lights on to who ate the last slice of bread. Blanche was known for waking John up in the middle of the night to complain about his snoring. I can relate. Over the years, I’ve developed an awesome “you’re-snoring-again” cough.

With all our verbal sparing, the “we never fight” crowd is probably surprised we’re celebrating our 59th wedding anniversary today. Hallelujah!

Surprisingly, in this age when less than half of all marriages in the United States last 25 years, researcher report respectful bickering, playful banter and passionate debate might actually help some couples communicate their different perspectives better.

Just recently, when I was at a local school’s musical, I noticed the “dumb” trees my husband made some 15-20 years ago for my Star Players’ production of Babes in Toyland. I chuckled remembering one of our bickering conversations.

“Honey, I need three trees for my play.”

“So?”

“Geesh. It can’t be it’s that hard to build three trees.”

“Well, how tall do these dumb trees have to be?”

“Tall enough to look like a tree. And make sure they’re really lightweight. I’m going to cover them with chicken wire and papier mache. And they have to be sturdy. Oh, and we have to be able to move them around the stage quickly.”

“Damnit, Jan. When do these dumb trees have to be done?”

I finally heard hammering in the garage one day.

“Hey, what are those pieces of wood sticking straight out? Are those suppose to be the limbs? They look stupid.”

“Because they’re dumb trees, Jan. Do YOU want to re-make them?”

Honestly, we both laughed at this old story.

Like those “dumb” trees that are still traveling from one theatre to another — rebuilt, repaired — after all these years, we’ve survived some nicks here and there too. And, thankfully, we are sturdy, able to adjust pretty quickly. We’re solid. I think maybe our “barking” has created a type of protection, a kind that allows us to feel safe, able to tell each other anything.

Not everyone can stand bickering, playful banter and passionate debate. It’s not their style. I get it. But if it works for you, don’t worry.

It’ll Be OK.

Happy Anniversary, Stoney! You’re the best. I love you. ~js

“Honey, what’s our password?”

“Our Anniversary date.”

“She did this on purpose.”

~ Mark Parisi

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“I’m glad you came in. Let’s see what’s going on here…”

I’m kind of ashamed of myself. After the catheterization, I cried when the doctor said I didn’t need a stent. Who does that?

I was really looking forward to the immediate relief a stent would bring me from those weird symptoms. For nearly two weeks, I had been asking God for help. I was absolutely sure that he answered YES to the stent when he winked at me numerous times. From the unexpected mourning doves nesting in my window box to the big ad for my cardiologists on the back page of our local newspaper right before the procedure, I thought God and my mom were sending me signs of reassurance.

You see, after my mom died 20 years ago, I started really believing in synchronicities — or what some call God Winks. I have written about how the number 22 has kept showing up in my life and how God has always communicated with me in different ways. (Here’s a link to that article if you’d like to read it and others. )

I have to confess as a child, I never felt as if I were enough for my parents. I needed better grades, better manners, and a better boyfriend they said.

But I never told them how I felt. I kept it a secret.

So when I was standing in the parking lot in front of the pharmacy while talking to a friend the afternoon before my heart cath, I was pretty shocked when I turned and saw “You are enough” on the back window of a car right beside me — and, you won’t believe this, when I grabbed my phone to take a picture of the decal, the time was 2:22.

To top it all off, I was actually wearing the black t-shirt with the big yellow sunflower that my sister and I bought to honor our mom a couple of Sanibel summers ago.

I was so giddy by the time I got to the hospital the next day, they almost had to restrain me from running into the operating room.

The nurses were finally able to get me into my hospital gown, insert an IV and get my vitals before rolling me into the state of the art cath lab.

I rejoiced when the cardiologist said, “I’m in!” He wasn’t sure if he could use the small radial artery in my wrist or not. So things were really looking good.

Photo: This is the radial artery compression device they use to stop bleeding. After surgery they release air gradually over a few hours. And I had to wear a splint to keep my wrist from bending for a couple days.

I was lying on the table covered with warm blankets, a huge computer screen to my left and a camera over my chest. Daniel, my male nurse, kept an eye on the blood pressure monitor on my left arm. At one point, it registered over 200. Dr. Meier was behind a plastic screen; I could see him pushing and pulling the guide wire that was making its way through the arteries in my heart looking for blockages. But in less than 30 minutes, I started worrying. I could hear them talking. " Oh no! They aren’t finding anything. What am I going to do? I’ll have to ask Amy.”

Finally, when Dr. Meier pulled back the plastic screen, he said, “There’s good news and bad news. We didn’t find any significant blockage. We tested the two small ones we found, and they show no signs of distress. But it does look as if you have something called microvascular dysfunction where the tiny vessels in your heart aren’t dilating properly.”

I sighed, “I’m so disappointed.”

The tall, compassionate doctor with smiling eyes peered over his white hospital mask at me. He had already done a miraculous procedure. But leaning in closer, he did something even more helpful. He said, “I understand. We’re going to take care of you.”

I ask myself to this day, “What more of a reassurance could God have sent me?”

Well.

When the male nurse got me back to my room, he asked, “You’re from Upper Sandusky, right? Do you know the Reid family?”

“Of course, I love Dan and Wendy Reid.”

“I was their son Nick’s roommate in college.”

Unbelievably, the whole hospital stay was only 5 1/2 hours. My appointment was at 7:00 am; I was checking in at Koehler Drug Store before 1:00 pm. And guess who my pharmacist was? Yep, Nick Reid. I knew Nick worked at Wyandot Memorial Hospital, but I had never seen him at Koehler’s before. He was such an angel, answering every question I had about my new medication.

You know God must have been really tired from winking all those times at me. He tried so hard to tell me he had things under control. I should have trusted that He knew better than I did.

I am so grateful; it makes me cry.

It’ll Be OK.

“We don’t grow older; we grow riper.” ~ Pablo Picasso

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They usually don’t put a stent in unless there is a 70% or more blockage. ( Circle 3 )

She has a wonderful way of calming any fears I might have. I’ll never forget the time she leaned down to check my swollen ankles and gushed, “I love your shoes.”

“Oh,” I replied. “These took me all over Greece last year.”

And in her fun way, she advised, “Well, Girl Friend, you’ve got it going on for someone your age. Keep on moving.”

I wasn’t surprised, even a little bit, on Monday when she used the same tried and true method of “giving the good news first” before the bad. “The results on your echocardiogram and your nuclear scan were really great. But you flunked the EKG and treadmill. Dr. Meier and I think you should have a cardiac catheterization this week.”

Looking for my blocked Super Powers ~ internet cartoon

And so, Friday morning I will be having a catheterization at 7:00 am to see if I have any blocked arteries. I’ll let you know how that goes in my next blog, but today I’d like to share my somewhat unusual symptoms that prompted this cardiac catheterization — in hopes of helping at least one other person be more self-aware. Surprisingly, I’ve never had radiating, crushing pain that you read about — just a weird combination of stuff.

For months I’ve had a dry cough, especially at night, along with random pin pricks of pain in my legs and feet. I’ve also had a surprising number of Charlie Horses this winter. One of the scariest things has been feeling panicky and breathless for just a few seconds some nights when I lie down.

And have you ever heard that Jonathan Swift saying, "Someone is walking over my grave"? The old phrase is often used to explain a sudden, involuntary shiver or cold chill. Well, I’ve had a lot of those chills over the last year. Of course, I just wrote everything off to aging.

I have been unusually tired for a few months; but I figured the dreaded Ohio winter may have done me in. But when I felt the pain return in the middle of my back — the pain I had when I needed my first stent — and another one started in my chin, I began paying a little closer attention. It seems as if it were overnight that I became short of breath doing the simplest things. For heaven’s sakes. The day I was breathing heavily just from walking 50 feet to feed the birds and climbing back up 3 steps to the house made me call Amy.

“I’m glad you came in. Let’s see what’s going on here…”

It’ll Be OK.

But I’d appreciate your prayers. ~ Jan xoxo

“I wanted to tell a cholesterol joke, but it was too cheesy!” ~ punsify

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I opened my eyes one horrifying night and saw dark shadows moving across my bedroom ceiling. I was scared to death. I thought the demonic shadows from the movie Ghost were coming to get me. Turns out it was just floaters — specks of collagen that had clumped together as the vitreous gel in my eyes began shrinking over time, causing shadows on my retina. Whew!

Although aging eyes can be frightening, I’m finally accepting it’s just another part of the natural aging process.

I have worn glasses or contacts since I was in the sixth grade so I’ve always had pretty good corrected vision. It wasn’t until I was in my sixties that I started rubbing my eyes and trying to clean my glasses constantly. Like 3-4 million other people in the US one year, I needed cataract surgery.

Easiest procedure I ever had done though. It seemed as if I just saw the little white light coming toward me in the darkness, when the doctor said, “Here, let me help you off the table.”

I was kinda surprised years later when my eye doc said the burning, itchy, watery, blurriness I was complaining about was due to dry eyes. I cry all the time now that I’m old(er). I actually wrote once about becoming more sentimental. Link here. I guess those are different tears than the ones that come from the lacrimal glands — those darn glands (like everything else that shrinks, but my belly) produce less efficient tears as we age.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love my optometrist. He’s highly qualified and super kind, but I wish he’d quit reminding me I have aging eyes every time I tell him I wish I could find one perfect pair of glasses.

And I guess almost everyone suffers from presbyopia sooner or later. I shouldn’t complain. I’m almost 80.

“What does that small print say? Could you hold that further away? Where are my readers?”

But I hate it!

It seems as if lots of things start stiffening in our bodies between the ages of 40-65, even our lenses.

And so what’s the best thing you can do for aging eyes?

1. Keep regular appointments with your optometrist

2. Use proper lighting

3. Take sufficient breaks from screen time

4. Add a humidifier to your home

5. Use eye drops

6. Ask your regular doctor if Omega-3 supplements would be good for you

   

   I promise. They’ll do wonders for you! Ha!

It’ll Be OK.

“Funny thing about getting older, your eyesight starts getting weaker, but your ability to see through people’s BS gets much better.” ~bepositivebehapy

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I asked my daughter, our high school’s majorette advisor at the time, “Who’s that really pretty young woman you walk in with every Friday night?”

“That’s Ashley Gullifer. She’s the flag line advisor.” And as in all small towns, she added, “You know her mom. She works for the school. And I’m pretty sure you had her mother-in-law in one of your English classes.”

“Oh, sure. I know both of them. Great gals! ”

“Well, Ashley’s the total package. The flag line girls love her. She can do anything. She can cook, sew, make t-shirts, do crafts... She’s on the city council in Forest, and she and her husband actually converted an old school bus into an RV. They have two beautiful daughters. And she’s going to be a surrogate.”

“A what? Who does that?”

Well, I was extremely lucky to meet “WHO does that” when Ashley joined my online writing class last year because she wanted to learn how to share her story. Even though this old-fashion 60’s girl — me — grew up in the age of “homes for unwed mothers” and “Scarlet Letters,” I quickly connected with the vivacious young woman who could do anything — even light up my computer screen with her exuberant smile. Ashley told our writing group she started thinking about surrogacy after she overheard one of her flag line girl’s joking about being her sister’s surrogate. Already a mom of two amazing little girls, Ashley decided she really wanted to help someone else become a mother.

With her husband Allen’s full support, she signed up with an agency for her first journey. There were many qualifications to becoming a surrogate, but basically, Ashley had to be between the ages of 21-42, have a BMI of 19-32 and have had at least one successful pregnancy, raising that child in her home.

The agency creates profiles for all potential Intended Parents and Surrogates. When two candidates indicate they like each other’s profiles, the agency arranges for them to meet in a Zoom call. After the meeting, each tells the agency if they want to move forward with the match. Of course, both have to agree.

Two years after beginning the process, at the age of 25, Ashley helped her first couple become the parents of a beautiful baby boy. With her generous, heart-warming spirit, Ashley shared, “There was never a downside for me. My two journeys WERE difficult at times because I went through miscarriages and failed transfers; but I wouldn’t change the experience I had. I enjoyed the whole process with both Journeys even though they were drastically different. I was able to bring two wonderful little boys into this world who will grow up with nothing but love in their lives.”

Ashley was what they call a gestational carrier (GC). She had absolutely NO genetic or legal ties to the two children that were conceived through the surrogacy/IVF process. Ashley did have to be on hormones to get her body and uterine lining ready to receive the Intended Parents’ embryo. The medical transfer was a fairly non-invasive procedure done by a fertility doctor. There was no need for anesthesia. The “prep” was similar to a Pap smear. The embryo was put into a long catheter-like tube and placed through the cervix into her uterus.

For each journey, Ashley was under a contract that limited her ability to travel or leave her home state at certain parts of the pregnancies. Surrogacy is still illegal in some places like Louisiana and Nebraska. Ohio is a pre-birth state that requires legal paper work that allows the IP’s to become the legal parents immediately upon the baby’s birth. So only their names were on the birth certificates, not Ashley’s. Lengthy contracts between the GC’s and IP’s, (sometimes as long as 85 pages) include the financial arrangements. The current industry standard is $45,000 -- $60,000 for a first time surrogate.

Ashley and Alan’s kids were too young to know what questions to ask during the pregnancies, but Ashley shared, “From the beginning we told them that the baby mommy was growing would not come to live with us. He had other parents, and I was just babysitting for them. My daughters’ favorite thing was telling people who asked if they were excited to have a sibling, ‘Oh, we’re not keeping it.’”

The Intended Parents were always a big part of Ashley’s heart. She invited both sets of parents to be in the delivery room. As the birthing patient, Ashley had to have the baby on her chest until the cord was cut. But the babies were quickly handed off to their parents to start the precious skin to skin contact. Both sets of parents, however, did allow Ashley to hold the babies. “It felt like getting to hold my friend’s new baby, not like a baby I had just given birth to.”

Ashley jokes that recovery after surrogacy is the best. You can sleep all night and not have to take care of a newborn. Although she has not kept in contact with the first family she helped, she talks to the second family — who is pictured in this article — several times a month. “I would say I mostly formed a bond with the parents. The bond with the babies is like the bond you have with your close friends’ children.”

My daughter was right. Ashley Gulliver is the total package — a gift to so many. I think she is an amazing young woman with a wonderful husband, delightful daughters, and a huge heart. She now works as a Program Coordinator for the Circle Surrogacy Center linked here. “I absolutely love what I get to do everyday. As a surrogate, I got to help one family at a time. Now, I get to help 40-50 families a year!”

Yes, I was curious.

“Who does that?”

Well, I found out ~ someone like Ashley Gullifer whose heart is full of hope, love and selflessness.

It’ll Be OK.

~~~

“I put Grandma on speed dial. I call it Instagram.” ~ Pinterest

If you enjoyed this article, have any questions about surrogacy or want to encourage Ashley to finish her book, please comment below. You are important to today’s story. ~ Jan xoxo

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*Pictures were submitted by Ashley Gullifer.

Finding a great book has been a definite challenge for me recently. At this point in my life, I have already read all the self-help books that promised to make me a super human. And I taught the full gamit of American classics for years. I’ve lost myself for hours and hours reading wonderful novels like Jodi Picoult’s Mad Honey, Inger Margaret Foster’s Elke’s Magic, Bonnie Garmus’ Lessons in Chemistry, and Fredrik Backman’s Anxious People.

So what’s left?

Surprisingly, How to Read A Book by Monica Wood really touched my heart. It turned out to be just what I needed. Not a boring instruction manual, but a beautifully written novel about second chances. I was immediately intrigued by how the three main characters crossed paths to find new beginnings.

Whether it was at the cozy, independent bookstore in downtown Portland or the stark women’s prison in Portland, Maine, I wanted to wrap my arms around Violet Powell, Harriet Larson, and Frank Daigle as they struggled with life after a fatal drunk driving accident.

I think one of the main reasons I loved this book so much was how the author developed the theme: “Look for the underlying action happening in the background while the main story moves along” through the women inmates.

It was after Violet was released from prison that she explained to her new boss, the exotic bird researcher, why she loved books, “Because life is the same as books, Misha. There’s a story and a meanwhile, and we get to say which is which.”

And shy little Amy spoke volumes during the prison book club meeting when she whispered, “Once upon a time a baby-thrower roamed the land. Meanwhile, his ex-wife rotted in prison. The end.”

And then there was Dawna-Lynn. When the firey Dawna sneered, “If prison is the meanwhile then where’s my fucking story?” it gave me a lot to ponder.

Perhaps, I had an affinity most for Harriet, a retired English teacher like me, who had a lot of compassion for the outcast women. Like many older people, Harriet was struggling with becoming “invisible” so she loved facilitating the book club. One of my actual book club friends became suspicious thinking maybe I wrote the book when it turned out that Frank, whose wife had died in the car accident, had “Dancing Queen” as his ringtone. She knows I often become Meryl Streep-like when my own cellphone rings with that ABBA song. Oh, how I wish I could write like the award-winning Monica Wood.

Photo Credit: Al Stoneburner at The Parrot’s Nest on Sanibel Island, Florida

For me, one of the most enjoyable parts of the book happened in Violet’s workplace where Dr. Petrov was studying birds and communication. I laughed out loud when Dr. Petrov introduced Oliver, the fifty-four year old parrot, to Violet; and the African grey yelled, “Whoopity-doo.”

The parrots, Ollie, Charlotte and The Cowboys, Alan and Bob, along with all the fascinating characters in this book teach the readers a lot about freedom, connection, forgiveness, and the healing power of language.

Oh, don’t let the title How To Read a Book turn you away. Wood snickered to herself when the publishers suggested it. She had a different working title for nearly two years by then, but her handlers assured her more books sold when they actually had the word book in the title. Who knew?

Personally, I liked Monica’s title.

Meanwhile

It’ll Be OK.

~~~

“I had a sudden urge to clean the house. Thank goodness, this book saved me before it was too late.” ~ Amanda Patterson

QUESTION: WHAT BOOK WOULD YOU RECOMMEND To US? Please, share. Thanks so much. ~ Jan xoxo

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But, guess what? I had the best surprise when I was teaching a Zoom writing class last year. Ashley Gullifer, one of my online students, sheepishly asked, “ Would you mind looking at something my husband wrote?”

“You bet. “

Meet Alan Gullifer.

Alan, a self-proclaimed “tech head” is excited about being on the ground floor of where aviation is headed. He is a Ground Crewman for Part 135 Drone Delivery operation in Texas. He loves video games and is fascinated with computer hardware.

Gullifer met his wife Ashley (Mullins) at Upper Sandusky High School in the early 2000’s. Their relationship was forged during his senior year wrestling season; she was the one holding him together after losses and supporting him through every win. They have been married since 2013 and have two beautiful daughters. Alan admits, “She’s been my rock ever since. “

Gullifer served 3 years as a 15Q Air Traffic Control Specialist in the US Army. It was a high-pressure environment that really shaped his perspective and gave him a lot to write about.

So here’s Alan’s article about part of his boot camp experience. I really enjoyed it and asked him if I could share it with you. Young people can certainly teach us a lot.

The cost of depth

The Weight of the Left

~ Alan Gullifer

The air in South Georgia hung heavy with humidity—a thick, wet blanket over the thousands of us who arrived as boys and aged into men during those ten grueling weeks at Fort Benning.

It was a life defined by the left. We left behind our families, our friends, and—in my case—someone I loved more than I even had the capacity to understand at the time. Yet, in the military, the “left” is also where everything begins. From the first step of a march to the cadence of a formation, life was dictated by that side: nine to the front, six to the rear. Every time we were told to put a foot forward, it was always the left.

Mail call was our daily ritual, granted only when the Drill Sergeants felt particularly gracious. To expedite the chaos, they would bark out roster numbers and hurl envelopes in the general direction of a sharp, “Here, Drill Sergeant!” I still remember the cloyingly sweet taste of envelope adhesive and the rhythmic scratch of a fresh pen against paper. My love for writing was born in that heat. There was a profound, desperate need for words—a way to condense the depth of my feelings for the family I left behind and the woman I hoped would help me build a new one.

It became a cadence of its own: the Drill Sergeant shouting “315” over and over as letters from my life on the “left” came flying toward me. In that world, every letter was a tax paid in sweat—usually five push-ups per envelope. Sometimes the contents were worth the physical toll, and sometimes they weren’t, but the letters I sent back were always written with love.

Those push-ups were the foundation for the pain and gain of life—the trials that must precede the rewards. Sweat is always repaid; when you bleed and sweat alongside others, the reward is shared and exponential.

The woman who stole my heart still requires me to be better every day. Those push-ups from years ago make me better today, proving I can do the work necessary to grow. The result is the greatest accomplishment I’ve ever been a part of.

With love,

Dot Dot Dash

Thank You, Alan!

It’ll Be OK.

“The pen is mightier than the sword they say, and considerably easier to write with.” ~ Comedian Marty Feldman

*All photos have been borrowed from Ashley’s and Alan’s FB pages with permission.

Please welcome Alan to Substack by joining his free page and/or by leaving an encouraging note for him in the Comment Section below. His recent blog post entitled “Bandaid Station” describes the heart attack he had when he was only 27. It is an exceptional addition to my recent article about heart health. ~ Jan xoxo

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Crazy, huh?

Neither one of them knew they had heart problems. It was during the haze of recovery that my sister actually whispered to me, “I thought I was just tired.”

It was after she was on a long flight and felt some pains in her legs that she decided she should check in with her doctor. She had heard about the dangers of blood clots. Thankfully, her doctor didn’t find any of those. But, oh my goodness, he couldn’t find any pulses in her ankles either. Calmly, he recommended that she go over to the ER and have some tests done. But her heart replied, “Nope, we’ll stop right here.” She ended up with five by-passes.

Several months later, my younger brother, who had just ridden Pike’s Peak on his bike, felt some pains in his chest during a tense moment at work. No heart attack, but six by-passes needed for the guy who had just ridden an intense 12.5 to 19-mile climb (one way) that ascended over 4,800 to 6,300 vertical feet to the 14,115-foot summit — a ride featuring over 150 turns.

While recovering at home, he went into cardiac arrest when a blood clot traveled to his heart. Since CPR had broken open his chest that had been wired shut after his open heart surgery, they couldn’t give him the clot-dissolving meds he needed. He would have bled to death. But, unbelievably, after 16 days on every kind of life support imaginable, he survived. The hospital staff called him, “Our Miracle Man.”

I’m so lucky. When I mentioned my sister and brother to my doctor in passing, she exclaimed, “Well, I don’t’ feel that good about you now” and sent me to a cardiologist for a checkup — just in case. My mom had survived a heart attack later in her life, but my doctor said that a sibling’s health is actually more important.

At that time, I didn’t know I had heart problems.

Four years earlier, they told me I was heart healthy, and I celebrated with another Pepsi. I had undergone nuclear and stress tests because I had an off -and- on ache in the middle of my back sometimes and vice-grip like pains in my upper arms whenever I walked too fast. I could walk miles without feeling anything.

All the tests came back clear.

So, guess what I did every time I had a bit of discomfort? Yep. I’d run to my chiropractor — and blame my husband.

In hindsight, it’s weirdly funny that I did that.

You see, we were riding bikes with friends at Hilton Head — kind of in a line. I was able to stop when Mike and Sheryl did, but my husband, who was riding right behind me… well, he couldn’t.

So for four years, every time I got those back and arm pains, I’d yell at Stoney, “You gave me this damn arthritis when you hit me in the back on Hilton Head!” I used to blame everything on arthritis. Oh, and my husband too. Ha!

It turned out when I had the angioplasty done, I had a 98% blockage of one artery and a 47% blockage of another.

Surprisingly, I chuckle to myself whenever I think back to that procedure ten years ago. I wasn’t worried at all. After all, I had passed those earlier heart tests with flying colors. It was almost like going to a dentist appointment to get my teeth cleaned for some reason. I was so naive.

It WAS freezing in that operating room as I lay on the metal table looking at the computer. I didn’t feel a thing when the doctor inserted the catheter into my groin and started pushing it toward my heart. But several minutes later I left out a tiny, unexpected gasp and the surgeon announced, “We found it. We’re going to go ahead and put a stent in now.”

What? I couldn’t believe it.

I owe my sister and brother a HUGE thank you. They were the warning, the hammer-to-the-head, that saved my life. Thankfully, they are both living full, happy lives today.

You know I didn’t really realize that heart disease is the #1 killer of women in the United States — more fatal than all types of cancer combined. In 2023 over 300,000 women in the USA died from heart disease while sadly another 42,213 died from breast cancer.

They say women are at greater risk after menopause because of a lower level of estrogen but that it’s wise to eat healthy, manage our blood pressure and exercise all through life to prevent heart disease from ever happening. Oh, and they recommend avoiding excessive alcohol at any age since it weakens the heart muscle.

I know. I know. When I was younger, I thought I was invincible too.

But, please, listen to your body — and your siblings. Believe what they’re trying to tell you.

It’ll Be OK.

Siblings: painted by Surrealist Paul Keel in 1930

~~~

“No Sir, I said your wife has ‘Acute Angina.’” ~ Etsy

QUESTION: HOW CAN YOU IMPROVE YOUR HEART HEALTH? Were you surprised by anything in this article?

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Here is a link to a great video about coronary stents if you’d like to know more.

If you are getting this blog on the Substack app on your phone, you can actually listen to it instead of reading it merely by clicking on the arrow (black sideways triangle) up in the right-hand corner by the three dots. Enjoy!

I’m getting a bit paranoid. I don’t know if it’s because I’m aging or it’s this darn digital age.

The other day I got a text from my bank saying there was suspicious activity on my debit card so I should call a certain number. I did. But when a woman answered I blurted out, “I don’t even know if YOU’re real” and hung up.

A former student asked to be Facebook friends; and I messaged back, “Is this you?” I was thinking about asking for his birth date for verification.

What happened? As I’ve aged, I’ve become soooooo wary.

There was a time when I was actually naive enough to believe Elon Musk was following me on Instagram, that the President was calling me on the telephone, and Taylor Swift was giving away free cookware.

And, I assure you, my husband was even more trusting than I was:

HIM: Honey, someone left you a message on the answering machine.

ME: Who was it?

HIM: I don’t know. It was some guy overseas named Michael.

ME: I don’t know anybody overseas named Michael.

HIM: You must. He said he loves you.

ME: What?

HIM: Well, there WAS a lot of talking going on in the background.

I couldn’t hear very well. He had an accent.

Maybe it was one of your former students?

ME: (I’m still guffawing at him in disbelief)

I almost died laughing the first time he met Siri. He was walking passed his phone bemoaning the weather; and she asked, “How can I help you?” Startled, he shouted, “Who in the hell was that? ” I nearly doubled over.

Recently, I told my daughter there must be something really wrong with my nephew. His thank you text didn’t sound like him. I didn’t know he knew such big words and perfect sentence structure. She kinda snickered, “Oh, he must have used ChatGPT.”

Well, what is this AI stuff anyway? Is it taking over the world? Replacing mankind?

They tell me that I’m using it everyday when I ask Siri questions and use speech-to-text. I love GPS. I’ve told anyone who will listen that it’s the best invention ever for a navigationally-challenged person like me. And I’m definitely having fun with my new bird feeder that uses AI to identify the birds that visit.

Ok, let’s see. Who shall I be today?

What a hoot! The caricatures people are making of themselves on Facebook are so funny.

But wait! AI may not be as innocuous as just removing my wrinkles.

Some leaders promise if we get AI right it will help solve the biggest problems in the world while other tech giants claim AI could be a risk to the existence of human civilization. Oh, Big Brother!

Supposedly, the Government just kicked an AI firm out of the Pentagon because their executives said they would remain neutral during a nuclear attack. Is this artificial intelligence — a system that can simulate human intelligence by performing complex tasks using patterns from massive databases — a good thing, or not?

I’m suspicious.

It’s kinda scary.

I think the only thing I can do as a suspicious old(er) person is to pull up my granny-panties, do some research — and pray. I’ve started by reading “AI and The Discipline of Human Flourishing” by A. Trevor Sutton linked here. The article was really good for a layperson like me. And even though it’s pretty complicated, I’ve also subscribed to Substack’s Neural Foundry, written by a Fortune 500 engineer building AI infrastructure.

I wonder if the old folks in 1945 were suspicious when the first general-purpose computer was invented along with the aerosol can, the microwave and the transistor.

Or do you think they just kept trusting DI?

Divine Intelligence

It’ll Be OK.

~~~

“When the computer asks “Are you a robot?” maybe it’s just trying to find its family? ~ Pinterest

QUESTION: How do you feel about AI right now?

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I told you I finally accepted my aging body.

Photo: Weather-beaten pirate at the Sanibel Island Marina

Jun 13, 2022

Oh boy, I was shocked when I first noticed my once flat teenage stomach starting to look like a football, then a full-blown matt ball. When I began shopping for larger sizes along with wearing my shirts untucked, my daughter reassured me I had small legs. I didn’t find it funny back then that I looked like a Tootsie Pop.

So, I tried bargaining with God: “I promise, God, I’ll work out and watch my diet if You help me look younger.” In the beginning I loved going up to TALK to Melissa at US Fitness; but when she insisted we do aerobics, I had a hard time getting both of my feet going in the same direction. When I almost decapitated a guy with one of those big exercise balls, I called it quits. (I have to say the Advocare Cleanse really did help -- until I started sneaky sips of Pepsi when I thought God wasn’t looking.)

Timing must be everything – because it took me less than a week at the beach this year to realize that JOYFUL, beautiful people come in all different shapes and sizes.

~ There was the biggest man I’ve ever seen trying to fit under a beach umbrella as his wife emptied a whole can of suntan spray on him. He grinned ear to ear as a tattooed lady happily gyrated on his bisceps.

~ I was really afraid an osprey would swoop down & mistake the tiny old lady wearing a droopy bathing suit and a mammoth hat for a tasty morsel -- after she crouched down to look at seashells. When she stood back up holding a beautiful Lace Murex in her wrinkled hand, I noticed her eyes were sparkling.

~ And you could actually feel the excitement coming from the guy wearing a safari hat, dressed in camouflage, when he was looking through binoculars at the dolphins jumping in the wake of the Sanibel Thriller. He was definitely ready to capture life in the camera hanging around his pencil-like neck and in the shell bag resting on his protruding hip.

Grief is such a powerful emotional and physical reaction to the loss of someone or something. Often people don’t even realize they are grieving when they have loss something like a job, their faith or a friendship. In our body-obsessed society many of us have to grieve the loss of our youthful appearance. But once we go through the stages of grief, we can accept our aging bodies as the imperfect, but wonderful vessels that hold WHO WE REALLY ARE.

Thankfully, the day has finally come for me -- I’m never buying another woman’s magazine with a cover that says “9-Week Plan to a Strong, Sexy You,” and I can proudly dance along the shoreline to my new anthem “This Is Me” from “The Greatest Showman.”

When my daughter reassured me that I looked cute in my new beach hat -- like the old lady from the movie “Fried Green Tomatoes” -- I just laughed because I could still remember Evelyn yelling at the two young chicks trying to take her parking space, “I’m older and I have more insurance.”

Acceptance can be a wonderful thing.

But the truth is somewhere in the last few years I fell off the “This Is Me” confidence train, and I started focusing AGAIN on my “aging-even-more” body. OMG I can’t believe it, I almost considered pulling my wrinkled neck back with duct tape — when the teeny-weeny cosmetic tape I bought wasn’t strong enough. Ha! And the “every color you can buy” turtle necks I ordered from Amazon almost became my daily uniform for awhile. Like the hurricane that blew through Sanibel at 160 mph, my swirling, negative thoughts quickly wiped out all my progress. Darn!

There is good news. On a recent trip to Sanibel my daughter reassured me I still had small legs and looked cute in my hat. I might have to accept the fact that I look a bit more like a fudgsicle than a tootsie pop now, however. When I spotted more joyful people with big tattoos, crooked hips, tummy rolls, and droopy drawers enjoying life on the beach, I remembered a quote my aging mom gave me once that made me feel better:

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming 'Wow! What a Ride!'" ~ Hunter S. Thompson

So grab your goggles and your giggles, Folks.

Let’s Ride!

Photo: Candy Counter at Cheeburger, Cheeburger on Sanibel Island

It’ll Be OK.

~~~

“For all the young people getting tattoos: Be careful! A butterfly on the back becomes a buzzard in the crack when you get older.” ~ Pinterest

QUESTIONS: Are you becoming more or less comfortable with your body as you age?

Photo: Good Exercise: The Sanibel Stoop

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