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Around 1990, 3 yrs. after my mom died, a strange thing happened. The very day I got word one of her friends died, my mom’s treasured mantle clock fell off my mantle.

Just fell off. Big brick mantle. Big brick hearth. Not pretty. The wood casing had cracked open, exposing clock pieces lying in disaster mode on the carpet. After the initial shock, I decided that must be Mom’s way of letting me know… “she’s here...” 

That’s the way my mind works, and those who have read Saving Gracie will understand this concept more clearly.

I’ve often wondered how Mom would feel knowing I’ve now published two books. I listen…or I think I listen, but so far haven’t heard/received any messages.

Last night I found out a high school friend’s husband had died and the funeral would be today, March 25^th. I hadn’t seen my friend in over ten years, but the two of us had gone all through school together and she’s just one of those people you feel like you’ve known f-o-r-e-v-e-r. The service was pretty far south, still in range, but would be a good 30-35 minute drive. Should I go? 

Now, backing up a few steps, I’ll say I’ve been in a bit of a rut getting back to writing. 

I’ve rolled around in all the Eeyore-ness I can come up with and finally, just yesterday, put my big girl pants on and decided to kick some ass (writing, that is). First thing this morning I got to my office and started pounding the keys. The service was at 2:00 and I knew, by some chance, if I decided to go I’d have to be dressed and out of here by 1:15 at the latest.

I’m typing away, happy to have words actually produced on the computer screen. I don’t know how long I sat there (time warps happen a lot when the creative flow is actually flowing), but a loud crash from the kitchen brought me back to Earth.

On the tile floor lay my near-full recycle bag which I had hung from a long pegboard hook about 4 feet off the ground. Strange… I picked up the mess and looked at the clock. 12:40. 

Thirty-five minutes later I had changed clothes and was heading out Beltway 8 South to the funeral. Did it matter? Would my friend even know I was there? I probably wouldn’t know another soul, but off I went. I pulled in the parking lot of the funeral home and checked my clock. 1:57

Hang with me here…I’m winding up. Several things happened, well, they didn’t happen, I just noticed them. The first was a huge spray at the head of the casket covered with bluebonnets (one of my mom’s all-time favorite flowers). 

Then, my friend’s dad, a retired minister, stood and spoke about memories and roses. The one quote I found after my mom’s death that brought me such comfort.

By this time I had straightened a bit in my seat, my antennae up. Next came the reading of the 23^rd Psalm, Mom’s favorite verse, and also read at her service. I’m at high-alert status. 

“Now for a song, the minister said.” In the Garden started to play…also played at Mom’s service. I was getting it now. I felt very strongly my mom was with me…sitting right beside me, if I had to guess.

I was quite teary-eyed by this time when the minister announced there would be a final song.

I said softly, “Well, there’s only one song left” And...

                                                                   
                                                             started to play...

My heart felt like it was going to bust right through my chest. I put my hand on the pew beside me just in case Mom wanted to put hers on top of mine. 

My thoughts flew back to the scene in Saving Gracie where Grace sat on the beach and her mom, in spirit form, sat beside her.

Mom always had a soft voice and I guess, in this case, she needed to rattle some pots & pans, for lack of a better phrase, to get my attention. 

I knew no one at that funeral but my high school friend. After the service it felt so good to give her a big hug and it seemed to mean a lot I had made the trip. She said, “Oh Terry, I haven’t seen you in so long, but it seems just like yesterday.”

I’m obviously back at the computer and ready to proceed with book #3, feeling my mom is smiling over me.

And one last note… my friend’s husband’s last name…

WALKER

…Mom’s maiden name. Isn’t that cool?

Why I Write...

Every life is a story. Each event a chapter. For example, study the picture below...

The elderly gentlemen toward the front left looks to either have a smile or grimace on his face. Or maybe...he forgot his shades and the sun is in his eyes. What's his story? The guy slightly behind and to the right of the elderly man has his head turned and his gait is wide. Is he looking to see if someone is following him? Avoiding a familiar face in the crowd? Does he look suspicious...or simply scratching his neck?

 Every life has a story. Or...if you're a storyteller, you can develop one. I find I do a little of both. Whether in the grocery store, Wal-Mart or the food court at the mall, I often watch (not stalk… observe) people and wonder what their life is like. Sometimes I have started conversations with people who have piqued my curiosity. 

 Rich and I often frequent Barry's Pizza. The food is good, the waitstaff superb and the customers rather friendly. Kind of a Cheers setting with their own cast of regular (Norm, Cliff, Frazier) characters sitting around the bar area.

Three or four times I have noticed a woman, a-hem, about my age, very well dressed, sipping a glass of red wine and sitting in the exact same booth (back to a wall) every time I've seen her. The entire waitstaff, including the managers, at some point stop to talk to her, which seems to include a lot of light and fun-filled conversation. I've often wondered...what's her story?

I decided she must be Barry's mother...although I have never met Barry, therefore, have no clue as to Barry's age. But that's the story I went with. For grins, I'm inserting a couple pictures of Barry's Pizza. 

Last Friday night, Rich and I happened to be seated at a table adjacent to "her" booth...and yes, she was there. After our meal, we boxed up the last two slices of pizza and put on our jackets. I grabbed my purse and heard her say something. I looked up and found Barry's "mother" smiling at me.

Rich was more than ready to leave and much to his chagrin (although over the years he has learned to tolerate my sometimes weird behavior), I walked over to her booth. She smiled and said, "don't forget your pizza." I sat down beside her and told her we'd seen her forever in here and I assumed she must be Barry's mother, which caused her to laugh. Her comment, "Barry will get a kick out of that one."

 She said she's noticed us frequently there also. We started a conversation, causing Rich to pat his foot, make an unnecessary trip to the restroom and then start messing with his iPhone. If he hadn't already had his quota of Diet Coke for the evening, I'm sure he would have ordered another, just to have something to do.

What I found out in a very short period of time:

·         She’s a business woman

·         Not Barry’s mother

·         Had a recent health scare and without divulging much more, she just found out today everything turned out great. Her next sentence, “I just needed to tell someone!”

I’m glad I could be that someone. I made a new friend…

Curiosity and observation are two main factors as to why I write. And for those of you familiar with Saving Gracie and Partly Sunny, know I’m particular fond of writing about relationships. They fascinate me… 

The Rule of Six

Everybody thinks what they think is the right way to think,

because nobody wants to think the way they think is wrong...

Isn’t that the truth?

Reminds me of a sign I have in my office: 

Those of you who know me, know this is NOT the way I think (I just got a kick out of the sign at Hobby Lobby). 

Another one of my favorites:

.

Hence, the Rule of Six (which I mentioned in Saving Gracie).

The Rule of Six works like this:

For any and every perceivable situation think of at least six explanations that may explain that situation. There are probably sixty, but if you can come up with six, this will sensitize you to the varieties of perception and may prevent you from fixating on the first plausible explanation as “the truth.”

Milt Markewitz – Appreciative Sustainability

“Disciplining yourself to think in this way --- maybe this is happening, but on the other hand, maybe that is happening --- keeps you from being rigid in your thinking, which in my tradition is considered to be extraordinarily counterproductive.”

Example: 

In a parking lot you observe someone pulling into a handicapped spot. Upon exiting their car, you notice no notable disability. What’s the first thing that comes to mind?

1.      Possibly, they’re lazy and have no business parking in a handicapped spot

Okay, that’s one. Now, see if you can come up with another. Maybe something like:

2.      They have a  pace-maker and have been having heart-palpitations that day

3.      They have juvenile arthritis and have battled excruciating movements every day of their life

4.      They are undergoing radiation treatment

5.      Just had the go-ahead from an orthopedic surgeon to remove the boot they’ve been wearing for the past 8 weeks

6.      Are in the recovery process of open-heart surgery

That’s six and if you’re like me, the list could continue.

A personal example:

Several years ago I went with Rich back to his hometown, McHenry, Illinois. We stayed with his mother and one day while she was out running errands, I decided to clean her refrigerator and freezer. In my mind, what I was doing was an act of kindness and something I could do to help my 84 yr. old mother-in-law. Pleased with my endeavor after spending over an hour on the project, I told her what I had done upon her return.

Was she pleased? 

No. In her eyes, she thought I thought she didn’t keep her refrigerator clean enough and saw me as stepping in and almost insulting her by tidying up her mess.

Was she wrong?

No.

Was I wrong?

No.

We just had different perceptions of the same situation…

More examples to think about:

·         someone you know passes by and doesn’t speak

·         teenager lashes out when mom simply inquires “how was school today?” (example from Saving Gracie)

·         someone speeding down the highway

So, try this little mental experiment…

The next time you hear someone making a statement, rather adamantly, like “that’s ridiculous” or “that’s not important,” try silently adding “in your opinion” to the end of their statement.

I’ve found this exercise softens my perception of what conclusions my mind might jump to because more often than not- 

Everybody thinks what they think is the right way to think

Because nobody wants to think the way they think is wrong