Writing Home column collection

Posted on May 11, 2016
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front cover dec 3Described as “both a memoir and a handbook for living,” this collection of my most popular published essays and columns, Writing Home, is now in its second printing. Awarded several prizes for creative nonfiction, the book is for everyone who has ever attempted to combine work, parenthood, and homemaking. Detroit-area readers can purchase copies at Yellow Door Art Market in Berkley.

The Kindle version is also available on Amazon.

Why More Wasn’t Enough

Posted on May 6, 2016
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MoreMagApril206CoverFor women of certain age, the folding of More magazine last month was a major disappointment, but not a big surprise. Few magazine editors know how to meet our needs or cater to our interests these days — and fewer advertisers represent us fairly. That’s my topic this month in Michigan Prime, delivered with your Sunday Detroit Free Press this weekend. To read the column online, please click here and flip to page 4.

The last goodbye

Posted on April 1, 2016
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“But she wasn’t around, and that’s the thing when your parents die: You feel like instead of going in to every fight with backup, you are going into every fight alone.” Mitch Albom, For One More Day

No matter how old you are, losing a parent is a difficult rite of passage. In the April issue of Michigan Prime, I talk about facing life changes in midlife after your last parent dies. Look for the magazine in your Sunday Detroit Free Press this weekend. Click here to read “The Last Goodbye” in the online edition, on page 4.

Mastering midlife friendship

Posted on March 4, 2016
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“Despite social media, between two-thirds and three-fourths of Americans believe there is more loneliness in today’s society than there used to be, and feel they have fewer meaningful relationships than they did five years ago.” — Shasta Nelson, Frientimacy: How to Deepen Friendships for Lifelong Health and Happiness. 

DSCN8647 (1)In “Rebooting the Buddy System” — this month in Michigan Prime — I discuss the benefits of rebuilding our social circles in midlife and beyond.

What began as my usual 575-word monthly column ultimately morphed into a full-length feature based on interviews with friendship experts and responses from dozens of readers in the target audience. Look for Prime in your March 6 (Sunday) Detroit Free Press. Click here and flip to page 5 to read the piece online.

Photo: My neighbor pals at a holiday gathering, December 2015. I’m in the back row, far right (red hair).

The gift of receiving

Posted on February 19, 2016
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Is this National Chronic Pain Month? I’ve been battling deep pain in my right hip — 14 years after it was replaced — and several of my friends are recovering from surgery or dealing with other painful health issues. With that in mind, I’m posting an earlier essay I wrote after my last hip replacement surgery. . . .

THE GIFT OF RECEIVING

August 29, 2002
A few years ago, when I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis in both hips, I read everything I could find about coping with chronic pain and illness. I was amazed at how often I’d stumble on a paragraph that advised patients to “look for the gift in your pain.”

Pain is a gift? Thanks, but no thanks, I’d mutter to myself. I had just turned 44 and hadn’t planned on slowing down so soon. I still had miles to travel with my journalism career — and a family that included a very active teenager. If pain was my gift, well, where was the return policy?

IMG_2790Within a year of my diagnosis, the disease progressed so quickly that total hip replacement surgery was my only option. By that time, I was unable to walk without assistive devices. Even on a good day, it hurt so much to crawl out of bed that I refused to unplug my heating pad and leave the house. Suddenly I was disabled – and even qualified for a “handicapped” parking permit.

Having been fit and active most of my adult life, I was way too proud to let others watch me struggle on a walker. I hated to appear needy. I started canceling lunch dates and appointments, and tried to hide behind a steely mask of self-sufficiency.

But my closest friends and family didn’t buy any of it. And it was through their patience and love that I finally discovered the “gift” in chronic pain: It slowly unravels your pride and opens you to the boundless generosity of other people.

“Surrender is no small feat in a culture that applauds the strong, the independent, and the self-sufficient,” writes Victorian Moran in Creating A Charmed Life: Sensible Spiritual Secrets Every Busy Woman Should Know (HarperSanFrancisco). “That heroic stuff is fine when the problem is something we can handle through our own self-sufficiency. But nobody climbs a mountain alone.”

Of course, stubborn self-reliance isn’t the sole province of the disabled.

Most women I know pride themselves on being nurturers, fixers, problem-solvers, givers. We’ll supply all the brownies for the bake sale at school after we’ve organized the rummage sale at church. We’ll rearrange our schedules to baby-sit other people’s kids. Just ask, and we’ll triple our workload at the office and still make it to the evening PTA meeting. Yet some of us would rather have a wisdom tooth pulled than ask somebody else for a favor when we need it. As a girlfriend told me recently, “It’s my job to be the glue that holds everyone and everything together. I can’t ask for help.”

The truth is, people who care about us really do want to help — if only we’d drop the mask of total self-sufficiency and admit that we’re not all-powerful all the time.

Discussing the aftermath of September 11 and the clean-up at Ground Zero, a talk show host suggested that if anything positive rose from the ashes of the tragedy, it was that America quickly evolved from a “Me” nation into a “We” nation. As she explained it, even the most self-absorbed among us realized that we cannot function as loners or islands. We need each other.

It was a good lesson for me to review immediately after my first hip replacement surgery. Strapped to a hospital bed and hooked up to several intravenous tubes, I was hit with the sobering reality that I wasn’t going anywhere by myself.

And during the early weeks of my recovery, I had no choice but to graciously accept support from my family and friends. When my husband processed mountains of laundry at home, I tried not to feel guilty. When our neighbors sent casseroles or offered to drive my carpool shift to school, I swallowed my pride and allowed their care to work like a healing balm. And it did.

As hard as it was to surrender, I discovered there’s real strength in vulnerability.

Deep down, I still believe it’s more blessed to give than to receive. And I still believe that putting the needs of others first isn’t such a bad precept to live by — unless it renders you incapable of accepting a favor or asking for help when you really need it.

Nobody climbs her mountain alone.

— This essay is excerpted from my book of published columns and essays, Writing Home (Hearth Stone Books; 2005). It was published in Chicken Soup for the Soul (Healthy Living Series) and reprinted in Catholic Digest, April 2007. It was also featured on Sirius Catholic Radio.

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