Ashley's Time

There is a time for everything in life.  Like the cycles of the seasons, things in our life have a way of cycling around, like the development of childhood to teen-age years to the golden ages.   Things change and yet, the general rhythm of it stays the same. Life is funny that way.

Today is my youngest sister’s birthday.  I can still recall sharing a bedroom with her when she was just a baby. I was in about the sixth grade. I would be awoken by sounds of her either crying or cooing. Her crib was on one wall and my bed was on another wall.  She eventually learned how to stand up, peek over the headboard of her crib and stare at me. Something about that cute little baby girl staring at me made it hard to sleep. But also made me fall in love with her.  She had the darkest brown eyes with the cutest smile and spoke so cute when she began speaking. She, naturally, had the happiest disposition of all the babies I had known, when she was feeling good. I was the big sister, not the mother, thus I never had to deal with the hard stuff, doctor visits, feedings, cranky periods, discipline, teaching sharing,etc.  I just got the joys of playtime and could walk away whenever I wanted to.

Over the years, I saw my sister grow up. Many of those years, it was from afar, in some regards.  Our age gap was about 12 years.   I became a young mom myself so moved away when my sister was still quite young.   I still recall hearing her giggling at my first wedding. I am not sure if that is because she thought the marriage wouldn't last or she thought the idea of me being married was just plain silly.  Kids are brutally honest.   I think it was just her way of having a good time there; she was a happy girl in a pretty dress. 

Once my son was born, my sister, age 8, said she was the youngest aunt among her friends.  Not long after, my sister turned 10 and became an aunt again to a cute baby niece. My little baby girl was going to follow the same path of life I had watched play out with my younger sister.   Now, I was the one doing all the things I had recalled occurring when I was, years ago, lapsing in and out of my sister’s existence. I was taking the baby girl to the doctor, doing her night feedings, dealing with emotional little girl’s feelings.   I never remembered my sister being this emotional, but then again, from a young girls standpoint, things always look quite  different, especially when you don’t have the responsibility of another’s life in your hands.  But, the experience of it all, motherhood, I would not trade it for any other in the world.

It became so ironic at times to have a sister growing up and a daughter, just about ten years apart.  And in reality, so was I, growing and maturely, right there alongside of them.  My sister was so open and honest with me as her life unfolded with the various ups and downs. She appreciated my input, asked for it often and we laughed frequently over the stuff of life.

My youngest sister's wonderful family

My own daughter rejected my opinions.  She hated my line, "My goal in your life is not to be your best friend. Equally I heard,“Get a life” often than not during her formidable years.  When I began to listen was when I got divorced again.   Maybe she will realize, if she reads this, moms sometimes do actually listen to their teen age daughters for advice, even though it may not be intended that way.  I saw something in my daughter and in my sister that I had seen in myself years ago and I wanted back. That sparkle in their eyes, and I did find it.

The irony, at the time was having two young women in my life so very important to me that I loved, one who wanted me in their life and another who wanted me, most days,  to drop off a cliff and not be found until she turned 18.    Both provided me with so much laughter, learning lessons and memories to last a lifetime.  Both also provided me with glimpses of myself as I watched them grow and develop.

It seems like yesterday that my sister had a baby boy.  Her son was a total delight and to this day is one of the greatest joys in my life. There is something about him that just touches my heart strings in a way I truly can’t put into words. He was a small boy full of energy and magical charm. As my husband says to me, there is something about him that makes you love him as much as if he was your own.  He has a beautiful soul for a young man.   

Another child soon followed for my sister, after her son, with the same age gap as my children. Amazing how time changes but some things don’t. Our kids had the same age span and the same gender line up.  This daughter proved to be as challenging as mine.  Daughters, second born anyways, are not submissive personalities, in general.  But, they are, in our family anyways, driven to success, high achievers and have a will that is unbreakable. I am as proud of her as I am of my sister, my daughter and myself, all second born.

 It must be that my sister had even more love to give because she had another darling to bring into the world.  This last daughter, is the one that truly shows me the meaning of the circle of life. She also epitomizes all that is good in a family, wrapped up in one small child.

And thus began the life cycle of the youngest one in my youngest sister’s clan, the little baby girl who had big eyes, loved to coo and smile. This little girl has the temperament I remember her mommy having, from my perspective of the early days.  She is exceptional, her persona is just precious. She is graced with refreshing calmness, no pretense about her.  Always able to have a kind word for others, especially those in need, she was born with a kind soul beyond her years. She is like a breath of fresh air; refreshing and undaunted by the polluted air that surrounds her.   All the positive traits of the family were somehow rolled into one person, this little girl, without her knowledge. As she grows and develops over the seasons she may one day take the world by storm.  I watch for the flickers of reminders of my past; my sister’s and my daughter’s but know her path is a special one.

 

A cycle begins and continues. I am once more watching a girl develop, from afar.  When I see her, my niece, I am awe struck by some of her perfection at such a young age.  When I hear her voice on the phone, I am moved by her eagerness to engage.  When I see her face in pictures, I smile at how she lights up the screen with her willingness to embrace the world. 

Today, on my youngest sister’s birthday, I can’t help but reminisce.  All those years ago, there was this little head of long dark hair on this tiny baby girl. As I tried to sleep  I would wake up to hearing chattering in her bed. She was intent on getting my attention. I remember the times when I would have her out in public as a teenager and she would embarrass me by telling strangers I was her mother.  She was a character and knew how to enjoy life.  I see her youngest daughter going through this teasing with both her older siblings and I have to laugh; we all survive.

The little girl I knew grew up to be a beautiful woman.

The similarities of the life cycle for all of us is really more similar than not.  When I put together the attached video below, it was a trip down memory lane. It is, at first glance, a collection of photos of my niece.   But it is also one of all of us, my sister, my daughter and me.  It shows the similarities of us all; I can see periods in all of our lives through her eyes, my niece’s, her smile and her facial expressions.  But if you look close enough, and focus on the innocence of the pictures, it is a picture of everyone’s memory lane. 

These images recall times in life when the innocence was predominate in our eyes.   They show a child who has a joy of just being in the moment, over and over again.   My niece has a beautiful spirit and soul.  This is a blessing she has that I feel goes well beyond her years.  I too believe she is the one child I have met who will retain it.   I pray she is bigger and better than any of us that have come before her. 

May her images remind you of those moments in your life that you hold dear.  May you see in her eyes your times past that seemed fleeting but are actually etched in your memory. Maybe they just need to be pulled from the back of the closet, dusted off and put in a more prominent spot.   Photo albums are good ways to recapture our innocence.  Reminders of our past are like a history lesson, it helps us appreciate who we are and where we came from.   My niece is who she is because of my sister; I see my sister in every picture of her and her father too.

Though seasons change, and you as well, those memories of your growing up years are at the core of who you are and who you will always be.  

Life has so many rich experiences,

     The total collection must be treasured,
Don’t forget the small everyday moments

     Because their value cannot be measured.

Click here to go to Video Link

Is Innocence Long Gone?

I remember in what used to be called junior high school a wonderful group that met for a while once every few weeks.  Mr. Otterbein, the school counselor,  pulled together a few girls, who were friends, so they were receptive to the idea. 

The rules were simple. Be open, be honest, be respectful and what is said does not leave the room. And surprisingly, for young teens, everyone did abide.  This group Mr. O, as we fondly called him, started was not about counseling per Se but about peer support. We started out wanting to talk about safe topics, boys we liked, girls we hated, clothes we loved, celebrities we knew wanted to kiss us, etc. It took time to break down the barrier.  But eventually the walls came down. When they did, little by little, we began to really see each other differently, more than just a fellow classmate, just another girl our age, but more as a whole person. 

The sharing brought out sometimes heart wrenching stories of what was going on in our lives, including loss, disappointment, frustration, despair, anger, and other emotions.  Going to class, to sports, boyfriends, and hanging out, these are not the places and kind of things teens normally share.  This group and setting allowed us to bring emotions to the forefront.  It provided a healthy forum to deal with them, help each other and also have an adult there to guide the conversation in a positive direction, if needed. Most times, it was not needed. We gave each other strength.  We found coping skills in our own situation from listening to others. We found blessings in our new found deep abiding friendships based on realities and not falsities. 

Today, the news is filled of stories of teens filled with some of the same emotions we brought to our sessions all those years ago.  Instead of sitting in a safe zone to discuss them with other teens, young confused teens are walking around with guns shooting folks. Afterwards, everyone is standing around looking shocked and saying they never saw this coming, what is wrong with the teens today. I am not sure it is all that different than before, is it?  Or are they just not being given tools to cope?   I don’t have the answers because my children are grown. But I do know my kids had sessions with me, so many in fact, they began to hate them probably.

I believe communication is key.  Talking and more importantly listening are essentially. If teens are not listened to, they are more inclined to act.  Sometimes that is the only way they can be heard.  We survived all the drama of middle school by having a great support system that kept us grounded.  I did not have such a group in high school and feel it was harder because of it.  I wish the kids that say they join gangs because they are bored had a group like I joined instead.  Are inner city schools even offered opportunities like that?  Is it cool? We were allowed to cut class to attend, how cool is that?   

Recently I watched a debate on why the violence is so prevalent with young people today.  One reason stated was there is an increase in mental illness.  Many young people are walking around with undiagnosed mental illness. That may be true.  My only concern here is that mental illness is treated with drugs.  Though violence and mental illness are extremely serious, it is scary to think that thousands of teens should be medicated. Is that the answer?

Many believe in what teens are saying that they are acting violent out of boredom. That is rather difficult to swallow.   It shows a total lack of consciousness towards life. Plus, who hasn't been bored as a teen?  Everyone experienced boredom at that age. How many of us felt compelled to kill someone because of it?   Seriously now, I do not believe this is the sole reason a teen (s) go out and kill someone.  Most folks, if bored, go out and indulge on food, go shopping, play sports, not grab a gun and go kill.

The one reason I did hear that makes the most sense is rage.  Teens, for multiple reasons, have inward hostility building up inside going unchecked, unnoticed.   There are telltale signs, in advance, with many of these kids that are just ignored. It can be school grades, Facebook post or other media outlets, friend choices, behavior at home, drug usage, violent interaction, etc…  The parents may notice but the last person a teen will listen to are the parents!  Parents are so often viewed as the enemy by rebellious teens, even non rebellious teens.  No one else seems to pay attention until these kids go over the edge. Then, all the sudden, they are all over the news and everyone is shocked and saying they didn't have a clue. I am with the experts that say, looking back, there usually always are clues. 

We, as a society, every one of us, needs to pay attention.  It may not be your teen, you may feel it is not your responsibility, as in my kids are grown up, but it is! All of us need to come together.  Stray bullets make no distinction.   Teens tend to not be good shooters.  Any of us could be a target for random violence.  Maybe all of us could try giving someone recognition so they know they count.  Make eye contact, be friendly.   Ask your school systems what they are doing to give teens an outlet, the ones that aren't involved in sports. Not everyone is a sports junkie, not everyone has parents involved in their life. Why should the teen be penalized if his parents both have to work and he/she need some other activity that is productive? 

I do believe change can happen. I think the innocence of our youth is still here, as it always was and will always be. I, unlike so many, am not willing to throw today’s teens under the bus and just accept it. I think they are looking for a change and do not know how to ask for it.  We are the adults and I refuse to let my grandchildren down. Maybe these grandiose acts of violence we are seeing in the news are acts of desperation and shallow thinking.   Their brains are not fully developed and they do not see that long term effects of their actions, and how they are limiting a future that could be promising for themselves. 

We need to create better paths for them to follow by providing more avenues of help, pre-violent acts.  Our little group at Spinning Hills in Mad River Township gave us a sense of pride in who we were, and what we could one day be.  We felt empowered for an exciting future that was limitless!  Every teen deserves to feel that way. As a community, we need to work towards that and not sit back and give up. 

Dan Bronold Memorial Fund

Happy Birthday Son!

Looking Back…

                                   

New parents look down at the face of a newborn child and wish that their child will grow up happy, healthy and successful.   Such was the case for a couple in 1978 when they adopted a baby boy.  Daniel James Bronold was brought home from the hospital and began his life like so many children in America.  Two parents loved him and provided a good home with Christian values. Dan’s childhood went by fairly unscathed with fun times swimming, fishing, snowmobiling and a love of basketball.  

But when Dan became a teen things changed dramatically.  His efforts in school diminished and his respect for authority went downhill. By high school, he was skipping school frequently, smoking pot, hanging with a crowd of friends that were in to living in the moment like him.  His friends of the past were gone.  His anger towards authority, rules and regulations were playing havoc in the household and in his life.  His parents saw the signs of a life spiraling downhill and tried all paths to get him back on track but each avenue was met with outright defiance.  

Dan dropped out of school, and developed a lifetime habit of self-destruction.  He had brief periods where he would try to turn things around.  The moments of clarity, there would be amends made, and signs of hope but they were brief.  And then, he would drop back into his pattern even further and angrier than the time before, more depressed and more dysfunctional. 

As Dan’s step mother, it was plain for me to see, early on, that Dan’s father was a silent supporter of his son.  Countless times during calls and sporadic visits, he reiterated to his son that he had the power to change if he made the choice.  The pattern Dan developed was using his dad for the staple Dan was always in short supply of, money. The last few years of his life, Dan’s only calls to his dad were 911 calls “Dad, help me, I need money for bail, for rent, for drugs, for food, etc.” 

Gone were the meaningful dialogues between father and son. In its place now was deception, lies and a hunger to feed a lifestyle that was totally out of control.  When he couldn't manipulate his dad, he then tried working him through me. Dan had a sweet heart but he didn't let it guide his choices.   Inside, he needed help, and yet refused to go get it. His father loved him enough to step aside and not be part of the problem by only giving him money. His dad wanted to only give money to Dan if it was used as part of the solution, e.g. counseling, education. Their love was mutual, but the communication was gone.  Only Dan had the power to change and we prayed it would happen.

The waiting was over on March 19^th, 2012; a change had come. The news that flashed on the local TV network simply showed a mug shot of a Hispanic young man, dead at 33 years old.  Dan Bronold was awaiting trial for tentative charges, hung himself in a jail cell after being in solitary confinement since early December 2011 and an investigation was underway to figure out how this happened in the Ingham County Jail.  Daniel James Bronold, he is gone from this earth but never ever forgotten. He lives in the life of those that love him and those he touched forever.

Moving On…

A special memorial is being started by Dan’s father to help young teens find their way out of this downward spiral before it is too late.  This situation with Dan and his parents is happening all over this country.  Young teens lose their live; parents lose control of their kids and run out of options.  This continues into adulthood, our prisons are full of such stories.  A decision was made on the anniversary of Dan’s death to commit to a special memorial fund and to ask others to consider it as well.  So much work needs to be done in this area and Dan’s story can give others the chance.  We feel Dan would want this, and would be proud to lend his name to the efforts for change.   

Thus, a tremendous amount of research went into finding just the right program within Michigan in remembrance of Dan.  We knew Michigan has a high incidence of issues in this area and as a state; they are hurting terribly for funding. We wanted to help a program that needed help, where our donation dollars would make a difference and be noticed.  

Midcourse Correction Challenge Camps stood out easily as the choice. It was started over 20 years ago for at-risk teens, ages 11-17. This is exactly the age where Dan began his descent and this is the critical time to get things turned around.  It has a military structure, so that the teens are able to learn self-control. The military aspect makes it highly structured and supervised, but also it’s positive, and unlike other camps, does not tear teens down.  

We quickly learned that this is not a camp that just barks orders. They teach teens to take responsibility for their actions, while learning tools for life.  They do a series of hands-on, group based activities that teach goal setting, trust, communication, doing hard things, depending on, and working with others, and how to respect themselves, and authority. The teens are shown where they are heading based on the choices that they are making. The teens will gain new levels of self-esteem as well as respect for others.  The program is tough, physically, but also mentally.  It really gets the teens to examine their choices and behavior, and where it will get them.  Too many teens lack motivation, make up rules as they go, and live in the moment.  Midcourse is designed to wake these teens up, and get them on the right path, and prevent as many of these Dan stories as they can.  Most of the teens that attend camp are forever changed.

Midcourse also provides outreach to the teens after they leave camp.  There is follow up with the teens to see how they are doing.  If they aren’t doing well, they will make house calls to the teen’s home, or have phone conversations with the teen to try and get them back on track.  They also have a mentoring program called Honor Company where the teens can come back and learn about things like; integrity, charity, relationships, and self-control.  They are very steadfast when it comes to not giving up on teens.  They also provide parenting classes to help bring some peace and stability into these homes; this program truly cares about results and the teens it mentors.   

We spoke to the director of Midcourse, Rich Wood, several times as well as a staff member. We found that Midcourse separates itself from so many other programs.  Rich has a strong Christian influence that helps him guide this mission.  Rich and the staff have a passion and conviction to make a difference in the lives of young people.  It was apparent that Midcourse runs on limited funds.  Any amount we can give or can draw to their program is needed and will be used to help a teen have a chance to better their live.  

Each year Midcourse has to turn away hundreds of kids, because their parents cannot afford the $425 to send them for the weekend camp.  If even one of these teens end up like Dan, that is one too many.  This will be an annual donation on Dan’s birthday, August 12th.  Please consider if this is a worthwhile contribution for you.  The youth of today are the true future of tomorrow, these teens, if not turned around are not going to be the good guys in society.

Most boot camps are unforgiving in nature. Most boot camps are extremely expensive.  This one is neither. Counseling is expensive and many teens won’t go.  This option does not involve either.  Counseling did not help Dan or save him from dying.  Dan never went to a camp like this. Getting teens out of their element and peer group and to this Camp can be critical.  Maybe a camp like this would have saved Dan; we will never know.  Giving a tax free donation in any amount to this program is a way to find out.   It is helping a parent that can’t afford to send a child to camp but needs to or a teen that is willing to go but can’t afford to.  Are you willing to throw money in the pot to make someone’s community safer?  

At-risk teens need to know that they can change. This needs to happen before they throw their lives away. This program brings about positive results. Maybe all kids can’t be saved, but maybe your dollar will be the one that saves a lost soul like Dan before the phone rings and brings news that he is not coming home again…ever.

Click for Video

Donations can be sent to:

Midcourse Correction

Attn: Dan Bronold Memorial Fund          

833 E Grand River Ave
Howell, MI 48843          * Note:  The opening page of the video should state the name of the                                                               camp as Midcourse Correction Challenge Camp.                                  

Make checks payable to :Midcourse Correction.

Put: Dan Bronold Memorial Fund in Memo  section of check or on note w/check (or can call directly to put on credit card for donating for this fund)              

Midcourse is a non-profit organization; your donations are tax deductible.
You will receive a receipt from MCC.  
Please contact them directly 810-227-0243 for CC Payments.  

Foot-Fixer Upper

Oh no!

My aching Toe,

I want relief,

As I clench my teeth.

I need to find,

Before I lose my mind,

A doctor who won't say no,

To the pain in my toe!

And Amen, I found him! But boy, it took my long enough to get the nerve to call!   I was trying everything to avoid going for that darn ingrown nail on my big toe. Asking family, friends for suggestions wasn't working; goggling on Google (my new best friend!) didn't help either, even doing minor surgery on myself. So I broke down and called, after getting a referral from my GP’s office.  This new doctor was Michael R. Baker, DPM, FACFAS. 

Well, as luck would have it, or un-luck, his office got me in pretty quickly. I did not have enough time to chicken out. Believe me, it would not have taken much to do so! Given my past history with podiatry, I was dreading this.  

The last time I had visited a podiatrist, my son was in second grade and he is now 33 years old. I will never forget the first thing he asked me was how I learned of his name. I told him I had found it in the yellow pages of the phone book. He told me Rule Number One, never pick a doctor straight out of the phone book. Boy, was he ever right!

That year, I was coaching my son's boys basketball team.  What was supposed to be an easy procedure was a nightmare. The podiatrist convinced me my infected ingrown toe nail needed to be permanently removed that day, or rather the side of the nail from the root of the nail bed.Furthermore, he foresaw,with his magic crystal ball, that my other toe was going to need this same surgery.  He CLAIMED it would be so much easier on me to have them both done at the same time. My head must have read 'gullible' with opacity ink.

That year, Erlanger, Kentucky had a rather unusual basketball coach a young boys team, that would be moi. I was limping around most of the rest of the season on ugly medical platform shoes laced on both feet, wincing in pain and begging the boys not to step on my feet. My feet are so large than they hung over the edge. (You get the picture?)  In-between quarters and half times, the boys would gather around me so I could prop my feet up on chairs to reduce swelling and pain.  Thank God I had played basketball in school and started the season with these kids so their parents and the boys knew I had played the game and been on the court showing my skill.  I had already won everyone’s faith in my coaching and basketball skills ability. Unlike my foot doctor who had lost my faith and quickly became know as the doctor from from hell or more precisely, Wicked Witch of Toes.

Both toes got horribly infected, bled unbelievably, oozed, and had plenty of complications. I was a regular at his office for weeks on end. I am sure, if you get PTSD from toe nail surgery,  I have it.  To this day, I refuse to get hypnotized to remember the entire trauma.   I am not willing to get treated for the psychological damage done to me, toe anxiety.  Many told me I should file a law suit at the time but I was afraid of recanting the tale and having ore nightmares. It was horrific to go through. Do you know how hard it is to sleep, weeks on end, with both of your feet on a pillow? To this day, when I get a massage,  I refuse to let anyone touch my feet? I go bonkers if anyone goes anywhere near my feet. I swear that damn doctor gave me a foot phobia!  Those months were a living hell!  

Flash forward to present day. I walk in to this new office near my home in Spring Hill fearing this podiatrist in as I would a dentist, only much worse.  I think of him as the devil reincarnated. I think the first words out of my mouth, after he greets me and I check him out from head to toe were "I am not anxious to be here. "(Translation: I hate you, do your job and let me get the hell out of here!)  He looked okay to me in person but looks can be deceiving so I was not won over, and still apprehensive.  

He kept his distance from me, which was kind, taking my comment with a slight smile and wanted to know why I felt that way but he seemed fine non-verbally with my bluntness.  I then told him how he ranked in my line of favorite people to visit. (Okay, I can be real honest, sometimes blatantly!)  Plus I wanted reassurance he was not going to repeat my past.  I said my fear was as strong as the dentist but letting him in on the fact my dentist was my son. He said he was grateful to hear that!  

I begun to see his softness and empathy in his face and easy going nature so I opened up about my fear. I could tell he sensed it and was not rushing me. I explained why I was reluctant to be there in his presence.  The tone of the visit began to change and my walls started to erode.  He listened intently and with compassion and assured me that that experience was not going to be mine ever again, not at his hands.  I believed him, the look in his face was a strong commitment and something I knew he was standing his reputation behind. 

Dr. Baker's personality was not what I expected from a doctor obsessed with toes, feet and ankles. He was normal.  He was humorous, relate-able, understandable and empathic. Dr. Baker could be a character at times too, when the mood needed to be lightened, when I needed it less intense.  I enjoy doctors who are very competent, thorough and yet are sharp witted and make you feel human when you are there and not like a guinea pig or just a number. He has good intuition for people and seems to read patients well and know how to make them feel more comfortable in the room when performing a procedure to keep the mood light.  Health care providers have a way of making you feel like just a victim instead of a patient. Doctors seldom have patience for patients.  This doctor had the attitude of both. 

I learned that we both originated from NYC.  He attended the NY College of Podiatric Medicine.  This makes him a good combination of northern roots but he has the joy of living and loving southern hospitality. This is an interesting mix that allows him to relate to a diverse client mix.  I also quickly learned, after questioning him about everything under the sun, he actually has never had a foot fetish. I assumed all podiatrists did.   When he married, he did find his step son had foot problems. Ah, so there is one draw to the field!

I love to hear of doctors that took the time to serve our country.  Dr. Baker served in the United States Army as an active officer; two years at Fort Bragg North Carolina completing a Podiatric Surgical Residency. He went on to become an interim faculty member there and an ankle and foot surgeon. Next, he served at Fort Campbell Kentucky as Chief of Podiatry.   Military service is always to be commended! It is a choice.  And let's be frank here, foot service matters people.    Our military are no good without their foot and ankle problems addressed, aye?

He gave me options on how best to precede with my toe letting me make the ultimate decision. I think some of his disciplined approach in treating patients fairly may have come from treating service personnel.   I love being given all the facts in layman’s terms and being allowed to determine what is best for me, the best course of treatment.   I was also given the time to make the decision, with no pressure.

My procedure, cutting out a toe nail from its base, was a relatively simple procedure for him, as opposed to my previous experience years before.   He had been informed by me, quite early on in this visit, of the nightmare experience of the past.  He actually listened intently but told me there would be no repeat drama at his hands.  This was a basic procedure for him and the story was unreal to hear.

Dr. Baker’s passion is reconstruction and trauma, surgery, ankle and foot problems.  

I wrote this blog to share my experience about Dr. Baker and to show the sharp contrast to another podiatrist.   Seldom am I compelled to write about a health care provider.  However, when I meet one and use one that I find engaging, thorough and would highly recommend, it certainly warrants the time to promote the doctor. This expert is definitely in that class!   This guy is really cool, awesome skill sets, and very personable. I would highly recommend him so please pass this around.  How the heck do you get the name of good foot doctors anyways?

During my procedure, he quickly caught on, I am sharp witted and can be somewhat abrasive with my humor, as many New Yorkers can be. Not meaning any harm at all, it is actually a form of giving flattery.  This is when I asked him if he was born with a foot fetish or developed it later.  I also wondered if he preferred Chinese restaurants where he could sit and see everyone’s feet. He matched my demeanor, keeping the mood light so I was at ease throughout the procedure.  He knew I was intrigued by the procedure but did not want to watch it (Blah!) so instead he relayed the steps.  Naturally, he added some humorous comments along the way.  I must say, I certainly never expected to laugh at my toe procedure!

As I left, fully expecting to have days of discomfort, begging for pain medication and being given them, I was met with a smile and assurance they would not be needed. Sure, I thought.  But he was right! I healed just fine, no pain, no gain is just not always true.  My toe is as good as new. Thank you for not making me blue, Dr. Baker.     

If your toe is in a jam, don’t forget this man!

Michael R. Baker, DPM, FACFAS

Please visit their practice's website, Advanced Foot & Ankle Care Centers (link below) to learn more. Be sure and tell him I told you he was toe-tally awesome.

http://www.afacc.net/

Click here to view funny video to accompany this blog

Priceless Songs From Children

The wheels on the bus go round and round and the song goes on in the same vein.  My grand-kids  sang this song over and over on our way to Michigan this past weekend.  It was such sweet music to my ears, no matter how off key they sang it or Itsy Bitsy Spider or some silly song about an alligator.   My husband and I laughed till our stomachs hurt as they performed for hours on end in the long car ride.  The children derived such delight from our continued praise and adoration of their musical talent and our uncontrollable laughter. 

This is the stuff that makes life so wonderful.  In spite of all the wrinkles looking back at me in the mirror, I am glad I am here and aging. If I weren't I would not be a grandma and have these kids in my life.  Who cares about varicose veins, fat deposits on the legs and elsewhere.  Kids that look at me with adoration make the world look like nothing but blue skies.  My grand-kids are like the best tasting chocolate I have ever tasted; my heart literally melts around them.   Their trust is so complete, and their love so unconditional that is instills in me that faith I once had and lost in the human race.  It is so easy in your early thirties and forties to lose it. They also are keen at manipulating me so utterly and easily at the drop of their head and tear from an eye. As my daughter” I am so whipped.”

This past month Jim and I have spent some extended time with our grand-kids.This has led to some special memories.  I tried to capture them in pictures but it never really does it justice.  Film does not capture audio, the sound of their young voices, their non-verbal’s, the lilt when they speak, the fluttering of their eye lashes when they are questioning life, the excitement in their voice and face when they are excited about something as small as catching a firefly for the first time.   Especially priceless to me are the Grandma I love you’s, or as my grandson Kaleb says “Grandma you are so beautiful” translated to  “Thank you for loving me so completely Grandma.” They let me know, if I die tomorrow, I have accomplished my mission, which I firmly believe was part of God’s wish for me.  Passing out love and leaving it behind for others.   My grand-kids will be givers of goodwill and love to others.   I hope that is part of my legacy.  I sometimes feel it is not coincidental both of my children choose careers in the healthcare profession as well for that very reason. I like to think their main motivation was to do what they can to help others. They often tell me stories of how, in their roles, as Nurse Practitioner and Dentist, they do just that.  

Jim and I would not get this time with our grandchildren if it were not for our adult children allowing and entrusting us with their care.   We are blessed in that way for the faith, love and fostering of the relationship and the bonding they encourage.   We are always permitted to be an active integral part of their lives.  This matters so much to us.  Having had cancer and having lost an adult child, we both know life can be gone with one puff of a candle.   Tomorrow is not promised.  Sometimes adult children can make it hard to get close to grandchildren.  We have a few were we know far too little about.  My children allow us to know everything up to the littlest minute detail of their life.  I think this also helps their children feel more secure knowing someone else knows and has their backside besides their parents. 

It also, as we age, keeps us young at heart and lets us impart some of our wisdom and love onto their young hearts and minds.  And our love for them is beyond words, beyond anything we can even attempt to express.   It adds a new dimension to getting older which is indeed beautiful and precious. As a friend of mine said when she adopted her grandson, having a child when you are older is indeed different, the wisdom of being older makes your relationship with children indeed different. It is a benefit in some ways to a child. Thus, the relationship with a grandparent is an important one too, for both sides!

The video I put together is a few of the images we took of with the kids.  A few of them are actually ones the kids took with our camera or cell phone!   When we are gone, I hope they will always remember both of us with a smile. I hope these images remind them of our feelings towards them. Then they will surely know our love was a love without end.   And then they may just possibly hear, if they sit real still and reflect, the sound of us singing from heaven, those priceless songs of their youth!  Then they can sit and laugh with glee like we did when they were young and singing to us, all those years gone by. 

Click Here for Link to Video for this Blog

Ty Advances at Four

Not every day is a good day for Ty, it can’t be. It isn’t for any of us. But his life has rolled out different than just about anyone I have ever known.  He came into this world like so many other little boys, naked and screaming.

I can still remember standing at the nursery window with my son and his uncles, my daughter-in-law’s brothers, one being his middle name, Ryan.  As we watched at the window, moments after his birth, his chest was caving in and out as he yelled.  We  could see his rib cage expanding with each scream. We knew the newest member of our family was going to be a strong contributor who would make his presence known.   Little did we know, at the time, he would be so silent.

I had never known anyone autistic. My children were both fairly normal. I guess a better term for them is children with no special needs. I still can’t say I know how it feels to be a parent to a special needs child, only to being a grandmother to one.  I am a strong supporter to my children, and am now very cognizant of this topic and very supportive of the cause. I wish had been more in tune sooner. I waited till it was a reality for our family and only then became informed.  I took the same road with cancer.

 I think we are all like that somewhat.  Only when we are directly touched do we step up to the issues that seem insurmountable and take them on headfirst.  Sad though that we tend to wait to get involved when our involvement, confronting issues, helps things change.  We need to be more proactive as a society and as Christians.

Ty has only been around for four short years.  In that time frame, he has shown me that

every day that goes by there are signs of hope.  His growth, over the years, astounds me. He has gone from being a reclusive boy who never smiled to what you will see in the video. He is coming out of his shell. He is learning to interact with the world and with people.  He is a reminder that people can change, minds can be touched even when it involves neurology that we don’t completely understand. Given enough energy, love, repetition and support, battles can be won and Ty is winning them.

I still don’t understand why him. Why my grandson had to be chosen to have autism.  I no longer question God over this and no longer pray for it to go away overnight. I believe he will continue to fight his way over the hurdles. I know God has Ty in his sight, has a plan and Ty is living it.  We are part of that plan, all of us, his family and perhaps all of you, reading and watching this. I wonder what part you play?  He is one small boy but God created him to have an impact.   Little by little he is making strides towards some imaginary finish line to continue a race and continue making advances.

As Ty hit his four year old birthday, we all were amazed looking back at last year’s birthday to see the growth and development from the last 365 days. No longer is he a boy who flees to his own bedroom when company comes over.  He now will interact more with the world than before, is hitting a growth spurt and continues on the learning curve.  

I recently heard my dear Rebekah question herself, “I wonder sometimes in my zest to have him be the best he can be if I push my son into too much therapy.”  I told her, “You are only guilty of loving your son as much as you can possibly can. Amen God gave Ty to you!”

Click for Video for Year in Review for Ty

Treasured Little Moments

It seems like so far this year, Jim and I have experienced more than our share of deaths.  We also had to deal with the one year anniversary of my step-son's death. Jim’s only son’s died in March of 2012.  Sometimes it seems like yesterday and other times, it seems like a lifetime ago.

 I wish I had kept one of his voice messages on our recorder  so we could listen to him, every now and then.  Those days when we miss him the most, it'd be nice to hear his voice.   Occasionally, Dan will appear in Jim's dreams. I am somewhat envious as he hears his son calling or talking to him.   I guess that's Dan's way of letting Jim know his spirit is alive and well.  Little moments in the middle of the night, priceless. 

Death should renew our commitment to experience the little things in life more fully.   It is too easy to get caught up in the drama of life and forget to literally smell the coffee, roses  or whatever smell that pleases your senses. 

I heard this song, years ago, by Brad Paisley when it first was released. I thought it was just another love song. Now when I hear it, I realize it is much more than a love song. It is a song about life. It is applicable to us all. 

The song that follows is about living in the moment, the present.  Don't waste time thinking about yesterday or tomorrow; enjoy right now, where you are at, who you are, and who are with.  You are living God's plan, you just may not know it! Rejoice in the day, it will be gone in the blink of an eye.  Be grateful for who you are, God made you the way he wanted you to be.  The little things you have been given are special and are sacred blessings, enjoy them, treasure them.  You are blessed to be here. You will be blessed when you leave. 

My video is simple to this beautiful song.  Simple images.  Simply photos of little moments  of life.  Photo shots that I live for that everyone can relate to if you just switch out the faces in the video for loved ones you know. 

  Take the time to focus on your Little Moments and treasure them. They are indeed what make life beautiful!

Click here for Little Moments YouTube Video link

The Smell Off Charley

CHARLEY BRONOLD

I really thought there was nothing that could ever happen to Charley that would make me want to distance myself from my wonderful four legged friend. I mean, I love my yellow lab unconditionally. It was his charging my chest that helped me locate my tumor in my chest directly leading to a discovery of breast cancer just five short years ago. It saved my life.  He was one of the centers of my life, or so I thought.

That was until two weeks ago. ….

Jim took Charley, our lovable, exuberant household pet for his nightly after-dinner walk. Mind you, this is the same dog that took third place in dog training when all the other dogs failed to show up the day of testing.  If they had bothered to, there is no doubt that he would have tested in last place. I think it is safe to say, ‘Come’ means “Walk this way” and not “Run away from me.” Also, “Stay” does not mean he is allowed to go sniff all the other dogs’ behinds freely and aimlessly.  But this is Charley’s translation. He makes up his whole language and follows it not ours or the trainers! But in spite of those mishaps, all in all, he did amazingly well on command for the test.  Oh there were a few uncalled for barks here and there, but overall, we could not have been prouder.  The other two dogs did distract him some but that is not entirely his fault.  And our trainers could not have been happier to see us leave with Charley in tow.  I guess they just don’t understand big labs that love people as much as we do. 

Jim walked Charley all the way to the end of our street up the hill where one neighbor has bushes lining the entire front yard of his property.  Charley began tugging furiously on the lead.   This was not a true cause for concern.  What dog is not anxious to smell the ground and check out what critters have been there previously.  However, when Jim noticed what he first thought was a cat, and then noticed a distinct pattern of a white stripe running up its back, he pulled on Charley’s lead quite strongly to yank him back out of the bushes.  This was to not alarm Mr. Skunk.

Fumes arose looking a lot like the cloud from Linus’s blanket.  Jim wishfully thought Charley was not nailed too bad by the spray too badly because he had pulled Charley back out of the bushes in time when the smell came but how much had hit the dog, remained to be seen, or should I say, smelled.

As he approached our house with Charley, the smell picked up in intensity. Walking in the front door, it smelled like Mr. Skunk had come along the path with him and walked right in the door making himself at home as Charley’s shadow.   Into the tub went Charley immediately to be scoured.  Jim attempted to hold his breath while bathing as the ventilation in the bathroom is not enough to compensate for the overpowering smell coming off Charley.  He felt even Charley looked queasy off his smell.  He washed Charley multiple times, losing count but doing whatever he could to overpower the horrendous smell.

Jim put a call into me at work so as to notify me that there was not a dead skunk in our garage. He said I would smell one when I pulled in that evening but the smell would actually be coming from our home.  I suppose I should have felt relieve knowing there was no dead animal on our premises but the thought of that smell in the home was not at all inviting!

 When I pulled in the driveway, for some reason, the door was not properly closed all the way and Charley slipped out.  Before I could get a hold of his leash, he was gone. He shot across the subdivision, in the darkness of night, and took off wondering around the encircling farmland.  He was met with yells of “Charley come back” and “You want some cheese?”  And naturally he did what he always does, flat out ignores the pleas to return, preferring to keep us running after him.  Except this time, it was too dark for us to follow.

We were quite worried he would get hit by a car as he is not road savvy but could not do a thing but wait and pray he didn't get hit, did not go far and would wander back home.  We heard dogs in the area making a large racket  Partially, no doubt because a dog was running around free on their property. We were sure also because of his odor! We prayed he would make it home and safe but could not do much but stay on our plan to continue trying to irrigate the smell from our house.  What a horrible night.

Within a half hour, there was a sound at the garage door. I, as of yet, had not been in close proximity of Charley since his encounter with the skunk and somehow knew it was him. Now was my first hello.   I went to the door to let him in, opened it and about fell backward.  Phew, was the smell disgusting!   It was real easy to be upset with him for running away and almost upset he had returned. I suggested to him he go lay down in the farthest corner of the house, far away from me!  And surprisingly, he understood and listened, after downing a water dish in his usual style, drooling half of it over the kitchen floor.

Later that night, he jumped on our bed. To make up for running away, he put his head up by me.  I about gagged.  He had gotten sprayed directly by his head since that was closer to the bushes so it was the most intense area with the smell. Hence, I preferred, if anything, odd as it sounds, his rear-end be facing me. So I did what any woman would do that finds skunk disgusting, I went upstairs to another bedroom, closed the door tightly, lit a strong smelling candle and laid down for a good night sleep! 

Since that time, we have washed Charley with peroxide, tomatoes, and a mixture of baking soda with Dawn and peroxide, mixed with doggie shampoo.  You name the combination and we have tried it. About the time we think the smell might possibly be gone, it rains in middle Tennessee. Doggone it; every time he gets wet, we are confronted with that skunk smell again. They say dogs have incredible noses and can smell smells from far away. I wonder what he thinks of the odor he emits on those days? Does it nauseate him like it does me?   It has helped alleviate my appetite on rainy days for sure! 

I know he feels unloved a lot lately but I can’t help it. I find it hard to love someone so smelly.  It is like an unkempt person with bad personal hygiene.  Only with Charley, this skunk smell is worse.  We have been burning candles like we are having seances in our house. Anyone who wants to donate to the cause, yet we will accept candle donations!   But please do not report us to the local fire department. We do keep Charley’s tail out of reach of the candles burning.

My sister read recently that a skunk smell on a dog can last up to a year.  I pray that this is not the case with Charley.  If it is, I feel certain we are going to be looking for a doggie psychologist to help Charley deal with doggie neglect feelings.  I may love him unconditionally but I will not give him TLC unconditionally if he can’t get back to just smelling like a damn dog!