It is kind of funny that I am writing you this thank you note right now. I was in the library one night, about six months ago, looking at our books on creative writing. I saw your book, Writing for Wellness, and I immediately put it back on the shelf. You see, I was not ready to handle this kind of intimate story of my life. I also have never had cancer. My mother has had a small lump on her breast, but they got it out no problem. We caught it early, so it did not ever really affect her.

However, Julie, I have another kind of cancer. It is an emotional cancer of self-hatred that manifests itself in perfectionism. So I decided to check out your book and try it on for size. Sarcastically, I told myself that healing cannot happen through this book. I told myself that this was silly, that I didn’t make a difference in life.

Here’s the funny thing, Julie. Your book has begun to bring healing into my world. WRiting through the process of self-hatred and pain has helped me heal. I expelled unresolved anger in my life that I had held within me for so long. I forgave people and got closer to Jesus. I am also working on learning to forgive myself.

Julie, words cannot express my gratitude for the process you have brought me through. Thank you for teaching me how to love myself and grow throughout this process.

You are a friend, Julie. Thank you for your honesty and your program. It has helped me more than words can say.

Jessica Robinson

                                                                          Very Worry-free Xmas, 

                                                                                             Your Zitherists  

If you haven’t already noticed, there are 26 words, written in grammatical sentences, each beginning with successive letters of the alphabet, starting with A and ending with Z. Pat Boran, an Irish poet, gets the credit for this exercise our group is doing over the holidays. It’s in his book, “The Portable Creative Writing Workshop”. You’ll notice some stretches- Xmas, and Zitherists- to make it work. But, it is fun.

The next challenge for our members, after the holidays are over, is to try it again. This time C will stand for Cancer. For example,

                 Anne’s Breast Cancer, Discovered Early, Fortunately, Gave Her…………..

                   Last year’s garden was bleak,

                  A few annuals were all she could do,

                  Mammograms and Lumpectomies,  Radiation and Reconstruction

                  They took up most of her time.

                 This year’s sun is stronger and brighter,

                 She’s planting perennials now.

                 Gaillardia and Primula, Rudbeckia and Hosta,

                 Perennials for all those years to come!

I wrote that poem in 2007. It was written about my wife’s battle with Breast Cancer. Her mental strength through life’s tests, not just dealing with her Cancer, is what keeps me going. Death of an adult son, 3 shoulder operations, 2 broken hips, 2 colon resections, caring for me during my Prostate Cancer treatments, will give you an idea of those life tests. 

Three weeks ago she had a total hip replacement. The timing is good; I know she’ll be ready to work in her garden by Springtime!

“My advice on how to survive what life throws at you is to keep going despite the bumps, curves, ditches, detours and unpaved roads, and focus your attention and love outwardly and keep smiling. This is the way we went about our lives, living with cancer. We did the best we could under some very challenging circumstances. But, we tried to laugh, celebrate, love, and give our thanks to God, family and friends for helping us navigate life’s highway.”

At each of our last two meetings I used a reproduction from a well-known artist.

At one meeting it was Edward Hopper’s “Morning Sun”, In Hopper’s painting a woman is sitting on a bed and looking out her window. I asked the group to write about the thoughts going through the woman’s mind.

Everyone responded enthusiastically to the use of the paintings as prompts, and asked for more in future meetings. This poem was one result:

                                    If Only

                         I look out at a sun filled sky,

                         A day full of promise.

                         Can I accept this offering made to me?

                          What will it take to open this heart,

                          To loosen these strangling bonds of steel?

                          If only, ..if only.

by Julie Davey

The northbound traffic on the 5, the 57 and on the westbound 210 Freeways in Los Angeles was bad.  It was morning rush hour and I was driving the 70 or so miles up to Caltech in Pasadena to drop off my husband Bob for a seminar he was attending.  My plan was to return to City of Hope in Duarte pick up my medical records requested by my doctors in Orange County, then see some friends at the YMCA water class, grab some breakfast with them and head west to La Canada to see Lois, my dear, dear friend who is quite ill. It was going to be a jam-packed day. I thought if I waited until late morning, Lois would be up, dressed and ready for a bit of company, maybe even for just a few minutes, depending on how her day was going.

When she answered my 10:30 phone call and said to come over immediately,  I eagerly drove over, spent about an hour with her and then went to a local store for things I thought she might like.  When I got back her husband, Chakib,  said he’d like to run to the supermarket, too, and so I got to spend an hour more than I had planned. Wonderful.  Then, just as I was about to leave, a piece of medical equipment she needed at home broke and a quick call to the hospital resulted in the offer to replace it if her husband could drive to Pasadena to pick it up.  I volunteered to drive over, pick it up and deliver back to La Canada.  Traffic there and back was heavy but the round-trip took only an hour. 

I left La Canada heading for City of Hope to finally get my medical records, knowing I had to return again to Pasadena to pick up Bob at 5 p.m.. Traffic was dead stopped on the 210 East and I inched my way the 10 miles there, checking my watch as the time slipped away.  As I approached City of Hope, I feared the records office might close before I arrived.  Once off the freeway, I sped to the parking lot, walked rapidly to the basement of the main building and entered the tiny room.  I saw only three  chairs.  A man and a woman sat together on two of them.  Clearly, she was a patient–thin, pale, no hair.  Her husband or caregiver, was more robust and tanned.  I asked the staff member for the forms I needed to obtain my medical records and started to sit down.  The patient had some things on the chair next to her but quickly removed them and I thanked her.  An empty wheelchair blocked the only other seats.

I did not look at the couple but I overheard her comment that she had just completed her final chemo that afternoon. She sounded thrilled.  I also heard her husband say something about their military health insurance from the Air Force. 

I filled out my papers and stood to leave when I saw her husband trying to open the door to the outside hallway with one hand and push the wheelchair out with his other.  I grabbed the door and held it open for him.  As we walked out, I said, “Did I hear you were in the Air Force?”  He smiled and nodded. 

“My husband was a pilot.  We were stationed in Arizona at Willie (Williams Air Force Base). 

He immediately said, “I was at Luke, just across town!”

We chatted for a couple of minutes and then he asked, “What’s your husband doing now?”  I explained that he is a retired professor and does charity work as a pilot for Angel Flight.  I added that he recently suffered from neck spasms left over from pulling too many Gs in Air Force supersonic jets.  He quickly said he too had neck issues but  an operation in San Diego had fully repaired his problem.  I asked for the name of the doctor, stating we too lived “down the 5 in Orange County” and maybe his doctor could fix my husband’s neck as well. 

I dug into my wallet to get my business card to write down his doctor’s name on it.  Instead, I pulled out my card with the information about my Writing for Wellness book on it. I rarely carry those cards except when I am a speaker or at a book-signing.   

Neither of us had a pen so I just handed the card to him, thinking I would go inside and borrow one.

Instead, he looked at the small card, which had the Writing for Wellness book cover in color on it, and exclaimed, “This is YOU?”  I was stunned at his response but noted he was smiling so I figured I didn’t owe him money. 

“Yes, yes it is,” I said as I watched him open the door to the records office and rush in, waving the card at his wife as I followed.  “Look who I met!” he said to her, interrupting her chat with a doctor who had come in to talk to her.  She, too, seemed overjoyed, “I can’t believe it!  This is meant to be!”

The husband who told me his name was Bill began to quickly tell me the story of earlier in the day how Mary, his wife, was at COH for her last chemo and had stopped by the Biller Patient Center because they were early for their appointment.  From all the books on their library shelves, she had selected one book to browse through until time for her infusion in another building on the large campus. 

“I couldn’t put it down!” she told me, smiling, “and we asked if I could take it with me for the several hours I’d be getting an infusion. The director said they didn’t check out books; they had to be read there.”

The couple left and went to the Infusion Center.  While there, she begged her husband to return to Biller and get permission to bring her the Writing for Wellness book, promising they’d return it when she was through.  He did and the director agreed.

For the next several hours, she told me, she read page after page, sometimes smiling, and sometimes with tears in her eyes.  “I definitely am going to buy your book and do some writing.  People have told me journaling is really healing.”

I told her I would mail her a free book, since she is such a “fan” and I asked for  her mailing address.

She said she was so inspired by the stories in the book that she is also going to volunteer, as the chapter “Giving Back” suggests, by freely giving of her time and talent as a physical therapist to cancer survivors.

As we three hugged and then started to go our separate ways, we agreed that we were supposed to meet, discuss neck therapies and writing for wellness. They revealed that they, too, had planned to be at the records office much earlier but a series of delays changed their plans too.   We also agreed to meet again soon. 

They went in one direction; I went in another.  Destiny?  I believe it was.

I am privileged to be here today at the City of Hope with Linda’s family, friends and co-workers as well as the doctors we shared–Dr. James Andersen, our surgeon, and Dr. Lucille Leong, our oncologist, both of whom will pay tribute to Linda as well. She is gone but not fogotten.

Linda lives on in so many ways, in so many hearts. I am honored to tell you about one aspect of my soul sister and how Writing for Wellness got started and continues to expand even today.

On my way to an appointment here at City of Hope, right after the 9-11 tragedy, I saw a man in a volunteer’s blue jacket leading a small group of very young pediatric cancer patients (dressed in their pajamas and wearing surgical masks) right in front of the Pediatric Building which is now the Women’s Center. They apparently were on a field trip from their hospital beds and they were happily waving their arms, skipping and marching under the direction of the young man, who I surmised was a volunteer. I immediately realized that volunteers could actually help patients feel better, walk with them, talk with them, smile and help them out. I decided then and there to become a volunteer, to give back. I felt very emotional and at my appointment with Dr. Leong,  I announced, “I want to volunteer here; I can drive a golf cart,” knowing that despite never having driven one, it was one job many volunteers did–wearing their blue coats and chatting with patients as they drove them to their appointments on this large campus.

Dr. Leong, knowing my background as a college writing professor, asked, “Why a golf cart? Maybe you could do something more in line with your background.” She picked up the phone and called her friend, Jeanne Lawrence, who arranged for me to meet Linda Baginski right after my appointment.

When I walked in, Linda smiled her big smile, welcomed me, hugged me as if I had been heaven-sent, and said she had just been hoping that a writer might show up because she had an idea for a class for patients, caregivers and staff. She even had the name for it “Writing for Wellness.” She said all this in one long sentence without taking a breath.

She went on to tell me about Pink Links, Hands on Harps, and Art for the Heart classes already underway and a writing class would provide another dynamic of expression for those on the cancer journey. We sat down and immediately started to plan. I assumed the classes would start in a month or so. Linda, the do-er, had other ideas.

She decided classes should begin immediately, stating that people had immediate needs. And, within hours, Linda and I had an outline for the class, a place and time to meet and she had called her supervisor Annette Mercurio and gotten approval to begin. Within that week, the first class had been advertised and we started. That was in 2001. People came that first night, they wrote their hearts out, including Linda herself, Jeanne Lawrence, Annett Mercurio, Marilyn Rhodes, Shirley Otis-Green, Joan Smith–all present with us today and many others, some of whom, like Robert Prado, are no longer with us. I was surprised that everyone was willing to share what they had written, even though I didn’t ask them to read aloud. They wanted to. Again, Linda’s Legacy.

After teaching the classes for several years and collecting what I felt were beautiful, inspirational and even humorous writings and poems from those “students” who had come to my class, I organized the writings with the help of Bill Matteson and others into what we thought might become a teacher guide to help people elsewhere in hospitals and medical centers teach the same class, showing and reading what others had written to inspire and encourage patients and caregivers.

Instead, the teacher guide became a book, published in 2007, with the foreword written by City of Hope CEO Dr. Michael Friedman, present with us here today, and Dr. Lucille Leong. Our book, with writings by 60 former students, is now being used in hospitals, wellness center, churches and senior centers in many places throughout the United States, all profits and royalties going to City of Hope. Linda’s Legacy.

Besides being on the acknowledgement page along with Dr. James Andersen, Dr. Friedman, and Dr. Leong and others present today, Linda’s own words appear in many of the chapters–her poetry about women with breast cancer, her humorous writing about how her husband, John bought her a Harley–one of her life’s dreams.  Another of her writings was a tribute to the late Hattie Anderson, who Linda knew and who gave generously to City of Hope and cancer patients.

The class Linda started and named continued for nine years, every other Wednesday during the daytime when staff, patients and caregivers were on campus and could attend during the lunch hour. We always provided the lunch–chicken soup being a regular. The spreads grew into potlucks and many attendees joked that they only came for the food.

I moved to Orange County in 2009 and the class here at Biller Center is now being taught by one of my former students, Carole Palmquist. She also assists Pat Dudley who is teaching the class at  Presbyterian Intercommunity Hospital, Whittier. Carol has taught the class at her church and in her home.

Just last Friday, Joan Smith, (please stand, Joan) who attended the very first writing for wellness class in 2001, began teaching her own series of classes at Leisure World in Seal Beach. Again, Linda’s Legacy.

Classes are continuing at the Wellness Community in Phoenix, at Seattle’s Harborview Medical Center, part of the University of Washington Medical School; Huntington Hospital in Pasadena; University of Arizona Cancer Center in Tucson, a wellness center in Maryland and I personally have taught classes at Mission Hospital in Mission Viejo. A 7,000-member church, Cornerstone, in northern California has offered the class for four years, taught by Kathy Vader who wrote her own teacher guide for the book, which is now offered online. The writing for wellness book is also available as an e-book as well. All of these classes use our book as their text and workbook. Linda’s Legacy.

When she was re-diagnosed with cancer, it was during the time the late James Cremin, a cancer patient and Hollywood producer, attended my class and started filming it for his documentary he titled, “Visions of Wellness.” The first day of filming, Linda was in class and when I asked for volunteers to read what they had written, Linda was the first to raise her hand and jump to her feet. Her powerful poem, “The In-Between” can be viewed online at www.writingforwellness.com

Linda’s Legacy.

Linda is beautiful, articulate, determined, feisty and, thanks to James forever on film, upbeat and grateful for life itself. She is the Linda we all remember.

Please visit that site to see her and how her words continue to inspire others to fight cancer, remain positive and live life with gusto. Hundreds have watched the film. The last time I checked it was more than 800. I have shown the film when I have been a guest speaker in Denver and Atlanta. Everyone is especially moved by Linda’s words.

Those present here today who are, like Linda was, published in the book, please stand. You are all part of Linda’s Legacy. We will continue her work.

Now I will end with the selection that also finishes our book. These are words of another Linda, Linda Bergman, a good friend of Linda Baginski’s who is a famous Hollywood writer/producer and attended the writing for wellness classes.  She almost gave up on life itself and wanted to stop  chemo and go home to die,  after being diagnosed with chronic leukemia on her 50th birthday. But, through the tenacity of her doctors here and her children Adam and Sarah, and her husband Chuck, who begged her to try just one, last clinical trial to cure her leukemia, she reluctantly agreed. Four months later she was cancer-free. Her life was forever changed and she chose to give back her time and energy to her fellow cancer patients and work with Jeanne Lawrence as a volunteer at the Patient and Family Services Desk, reassuring patients and giving them hope through her own example.

I spoke with her yesterday. She is in northern California with Adam, getting him settled in a new house. I told her I was going to end our tribute to Linda and asked if I could read her own words from the book. She said she was delighted, “I loved being called, the OTHER Linda,” she told me.

Free At Last
I have reached my goal. I am no longer the victim, but am assisting those who’ve come behind me. I see it on the patients’ faces when I get the opportunity to say, “Oh, you have leukemia? I HAD that, too.” I see the light in their eyes as they search mine for answers. No, we don’t always have the same disease, but they know I speak their language.
They know I can be trusted.
They know I have faced the demons and lived to tell about it.
They know I am disease-free and standing in the midst of the storm shining a light to them.
They know I love them because I AM them!
-Linda Bergman.

Linda Bergman’s words were also read aloud from our book this past May at the Waldorf Astoria Spirit of Life Awards luncheon, a major fund-raiser for City of Hope, by Ann Levine, president of the New York City chapter who presented the award and a copy of our book to ABC’s anchor and breast-cancer survivor, Robin Roberts.

Again, Linda’s Legacy.

Thank you. Let’s all continue Linda’s work.

Many of you may have heard the sad news and others may not have.
Steve Rom, 38, died on December 3, 2010.
Those of us in the Writing for Wellness family  remember his life’s story from the City of Hope Writing for Wellness classes and from our book’s last chapter “Steve’s Story” and continue to praise it as an inspirational and uplifting one.
Steve battled cancer, went through a successful bone-marrow transplant at City of Hope, and, with God’s help and his mother Paula’s, he lived for several years, returning to graduate school, writing his book, “Centered on a Miracle” with NFL Super Bowl Champion Rod Payne, was a motivational speaker and writer and a wonderful human being.
He had beaten the leukemia.
A separate form of cancer ultimately took him from us.
He leaves behind a legacy of sports writing, inspirational speaking, a wonderful book and, “Steve’s Story” in the Writing for Wellness: A Prescription for Healing book. He is also a featured writer in the book “Coincidence or Something Else?”
Steve also authored highly academic papers that were published in professional journals. His aim was to become a doctor and he was well on his way.
To honor Steve and to keep alive the inspirational work he was involved in, Paula Kamisher, his mother, continues to speak, write and distribute his book and his story. Let us all remember Steve by being positive, as he always was, and consciously choosing a path to make the world a better place.

Thank you to Joan Smith, a sister survivor of cancer, multi-entry contributor to the Writing for Wellness: a Prescription for Healing book, and one of the longest-attending participants in the writing for wellness classes, having come to the first class on the first night in 2001. Joan is now teaching at the Seal Beach, California, Leisure World retirement community, offering Writing for Wellness instruction for participants and using our WFW book as her text. She invited me to her class on August 19.
Here are my observations:

Dear Joan:
You have a special and calming way of teaching and encouraging people to write and read aloud. You got 100% participation, something I never achieve personally, and what one participant revealed was really stunning. By her sharing that she is getting back in touch with her feelings and she now has people who actually listen to her–you and her classmates–is remarkable after just a few class meetings.

You, Joan, have made the participants feel safe and comfortable–through your kind, intelligent, humorous and encouraging methods which come together to say, “You can do this; I will help!” to those in the room. You know just when to read aloud yourself and when to give people quiet time to write. When it is time to read, you are so welcoming in your offer to have people share that even the most shy person raises a hand and begins to open his or her heart.I learned something today by watching you teach and then by watching your students. Everyone was calm and listening to one another. There was no person dominating the conversation, no one interrupting anyone.

I wrote a book-length manuscript which was never published which I called Mirrors in My Classroom. In it, I wrote that you can often see the teacher reflected in the students, almost as a classroom mirror of the teacher’s attitudes, behaviors and values. Those of us in education realize that some students who behave badly often have teachers with negative attitudes who can cause the student to mirror the attitudes the teacher is exhibiting. I had known this during my 33 years in teaching, after witnessing teachers loudly complain about a particular student’s behaviors that actually reflected what the teacher often did or said herself/ himself.

Watching you interact with your students still was remarkable. They clearly reflected your calmness, your kindness, your love of written and spoken words. They were genuinely interested in hearing what their fellow classmates said and felt. Having known you for more than 10 years and having witnessed your consistently compassionate attitudes, I saw this again in those surrounding you in your writing for wellness classroom.
.
Thanks for a wonderful day. I hope you continue to teach Writing for Wellness for a long time. I encourage you to expand the classes to the campus of Long Beach State University, too.

With admiration, Julie Davey

————————————————————————————————————————

Following are students’ results of Joan’s writing assignments from the Writing for Wellness book:

Lessons Learned
The following are lessons learned from helping my 103-year-old mother through the aging process and through helping my sister with terminal cancer:
1. Listen carefully to others and empathize with the feeling behind what they are saying.
2. It has not been until later in life that I feel my sister’s agony and realize what she must have gone through with her family after being diagnosed with colon/liver cancer at the age of 40. I find myself grieving even now 32 years later.
3. It is necessary to reveal one’s true thoughts and feelings in order to connect with others.
4. Deep friendships are some of the most satisfying things in life.
5. It requires courage, problem solving, and acceptance of oneself to go through the aging process.
6. Don’t judge other people harshly for their ideas, opinions, or idiosyncrasies as everyone comes from a different background and environment.
7. There is a reason for aberrant behavior. Although it often may not be acceptable, it can be understood.
8. Accept differences in religion, cultural background, politics , ethnicity, and sexual preference.
9. Do not accept behavior that is harmful to myself or others. Intervene.
10. Speak up when necessary
11. Who you are is more important than what you do.

By Anita Schulz
————————————————————————————————————-

Nature Pastimes

How wonderful for me to reflect on how being in and with nature has always been my “rock” and brought me peace, serenity and clarity!
It’s been a while (longer than normal for me) since I’ve done one of my favorite nature pastimes, especially in the summer and warmer California days–swimming in the Belmont Shore Bay! Although usually cold and a quick startle to my body and sensory nerve endings, I always quickly get over it and march, so to speak, diving head up, hat on and sunglasses secure, into the sparkling, dark blue bay water.
Once my body has planed on the sea, I’m like a “fish to water” and for the rest of my swim, I’m on automatic pilot. Shortly after that, I am mesmerized by the sun’s rays on my body, the sights of the beautiful clouds, sailboats and the serene sand on the shore. Even if there are people lying on the shore, the sight still relaxes me.
Every so often I may reflect on how unique and unusual my “swim pose” is compared to the others who swim past me, leaving me in the “dust”, but then it’s always with pride and acceptance that I continue on, taking the experience as my metaphor for living, being myself, unique and special Patty! Meditating like this, out there in nature, makes me feel one with life and nature. How I love those feelings!
Out there-off shore, I can truly soak up all of the benefits of the bay and its mother, the ocean’s, beauty. Acceptance and even challenges which seem so easy to conquer while out there with Mother Nature’s guidance, I never feel alone. So I must get back to my dear friend, the Belmont Shore Bay. I hear it calling my name, and soon I will answer.
By Patty Hansen
______________________________________________________________________
Life’s Lesson
Independence was the lesson I learned one Sunday afternoon when I was about 12 years old. I thought it would be fun to go to the movies. I called a friend to ask her if she would like to go with me. But, alas, the answer was no, I can’t go! We lived in the country and I would have to take a bus to town–a 30 minute ride. So, at that moment I said to myself, “If I really want to do something, I’d better be prepared to do it alone or I would be missing out on some wonderful experiences.” My parents let me go alone. I don’t remember the name of the movie, but I shall never forget that moment when I knew I could do it alone!

-By Ann Leisy

My Friends, The Trees

Trees have been my special friends for as long as I can remember. As a kid of about seven or eight in Arizona, I began climbing the Chinaberry tree in our backyard. Soon I was hanging by my knees on a horizontal branch just the perfect size for me. I loved that tree. After a time, I decided to take on the huge, gnarled old tree out front, between our house and the one next door. I found that I could sit up on a big branch and survey the entire neighborhood. One branch rested on the roof next door so, when I hoped my mother wasn’t looking out the window, I would climb up on that one and sit on the roof. I felt so free up there, away from the rules and regs of everyday life in our family. And I felt so lucky, as there weren’t a lot of trees in our small desert town. I hated to say good-bye to my tree friends when I was 12 and we moved to California.

Fast forward many years to when my husband and I took our three daughters on a camping trip and spent time in the redwood forest in Northern California. I had never before seen such a beautiful place. It was like heaven on earth to me in the midst of those majestic giants. Years later, our oldest daughter attended Humboldt State University in the heart of that redwood country, so Joe and I took every opportunity to visit her. To this day, I can still feel that same peace and contentment when I go there in my mind, visualizing those beautiful wonders of nature.

Some months after Joe died, I attended a grief seminar at a Spirituality Center. At one point, we were encouraged to go out into the garden and sit quietly, listening with our hearts for inspiration. I noticed one tree whose branch had been partially cut off. That branch had not withered and died; instead, it had sprouted and had begun to grow in a different direction. I learned from that tree that my life did not have to end, but I must begin to grow in a different direction without Joe.

Shortly thereafter, I received a plaque from my niece, who had adored her Uncle Joe. A redwood tree had been planted in his memory in Humboldt Redwoods State Park. And some years later, my daughter had one planted for me. Perfect. -By Judy Holmblad

Following are Joan’s own words:
LIFE LESSONS

About a year ago, I was given an assignment for a writing class. It was to do a piece about some of the lessons life had taught me. “How can I do this assignment?” I asked my daughter.
True, for my 70th birthday my grandchildren had written a poem that praised me for, among other things, my good advice. True, I have four adult children who are still my friends. True, I was still intimidated.
“Everything sounds like a sound byte,” I complained.
I agonized for days before I even made an attempt, which led me to my first lesson.
Don’t let your fears paralyze you. As soon as I sat down with my pen and paper, the ideas started to come. I had been thinking before; now I was acting.
The first step is sometimes the most important. Even if it leads you in the wrong direction initially, you’ll feel better for having done something.
Love does not always conquer all. I believed that it did when I married, and throughout my marriage until my divorce. No matter how much I loved him, I couldn’t change my husband. That lesson was repeated many years later with one of my grandchildren.
Almost everyone deserves a second chance – especially you. I gave my husband a second chance. It didn’t work. Still, in his “older” age, he has developed a good relationship with his children, and even with me.
I was single for more than ten years when I gave myself permission to take a second chance at love. It led to a seventeen-year relationship that changed my view of myself.
Love what you do – and if you can’t, look for a way to do something else. In the meantime, focus on the advantages of the job, even if it’s only the pay and benefits.
My goal early in life was to write, but as a single parent I could never afford to make it my career. Whenever I was able, I tried to inject writing into my job. In one of my first jobs, in the steno pool (yes, it was a long time ago), I actually listened to the content of what I was typing, and as a result of my comments to my supervisor, was promoted into a position where I did the dictating. In my last position, I wrote a newsletter. I’ve taken classes throughout the years, and now that I’m retired, I can work at what I love as much as I want to.
Sometimes, pretending can make it so. Don’t be blind to the facts, but if you keep your focus on the positive aspects of the situation, you may find a way to move things in that direction.
Friends are essential. In good times they share your joy, yet keep you grounded in reality. In bad times, they support and assist you. Always, they keep you focused in the world, provide an opportunity to exercise your mind and your emotions and help you to look at alternatives.
Families are forever. That includes good families and others. There is nothing as rewarding as being part of a family that is truly loving and nurturing, a family comprised of people you would choose for your friends. There is nothing as devastating as being part of a family that rejects, abuses or puts you down. Toxic relationships must be dealt with and either accepted or abandoned. Good relationships must not be taken for granted. Either of those types of relationships often colors your view of the world for many years – even forever.
You are worth it. Here is a sentence that has been used in situations from TV ads to therapy. Still, until you believe it, you can never live your best life. My turning point in this regard came with the opportunity to take a trip I had often thought about longingly. Before, I had always told myself that it was too expensive. When I finally did it, I was left with a memory that I will cherish forever. It was my first step.
Finally, never forget that life is full of surprises. Failure can lead to success (or success to failure), accidental events can lead to life-changing ones, illness can lead to recovery and a different view of life, and the ordinary can lead to the extraordinary. Give life a chance to surprise you.
-By Joan Smith

This poem, written for last week’s meeting, dwells on a distant memory. But it reads as though it just happened.

Mom’s Heart Attack

My dad’s call came at night.

“No need to rush up here;

She’ll be all right.”

I left home with fears and hopes.

Orange and yellow woods lined the highway–

She was in the autumn of her years.

But I arrived too late;

She died as I drove toward her—

My mother’s life was over.

I sat with Mom and held her hand

As I had done as a child.

She knew that I was there.

Released from the worries of this world,

Mom cheated old age, sickness, and misery.

Forever missed by all who loved her.