Farewell, my "TV Dad"

Some call it fate.  Others call it 'kismet,' a word Americans stole from the Turks sometime in the 1800s, meaning destiny. 

In other words, it is that overwhelming sense that what just happened or who you just met was more than just chance. It was meant to be. 

If we're lucky enough in this life, we get to experience a fate-kismet-destiny-written in the stars moment at least once. I count myself beyond lucky that I have experienced it many times, although I hate the word lucky because it implies that it happened by chance ... and in this case, I don't believe that what happened January 1, 2000, was by chance.

"You have one assignment," he told me (my executive television news producer).  "Keep him from talking too much!"

😬

The Arkansas Razorback football team was playing Texas in the Cotton Bowl.  No finer time than pre-game to introduce our new Sports Director, a radio deejay, with a name and reputation greater than any that we'd met or worked with to date. He was perfect for the job, except he'd never been on TV.  Craig O'Neill, the jokester I'd listened to waking up during my high school years, pretending he was a Texas groundskeeper, a lazy cable worker, Bill Clinton... countless others.  A legend. 

Introducing Craig O'Neill January 1, 2000 (when the Razorbacks won)!

Here it was now my job - make him stop talking on cue... (not to spoil the end, but I never made him stop talking.  Ever. That would be up to the fates...). 

But in the way the fates sometimes orchestrate, they brought our community a human who made every single person he met feel like they were the most important human on the planet.  He created laughter, tears; he shared history with anyone who would listen, with his unique perspective.  He pushed everyone to question the world around them, to wonder at the mysteries, and to enjoy it all, one laugh at a time.

His countless hours donated to non-profits raised millions in charity dollars. Every "Arkansan of the Day" was thoughtfully curated, every joke well-appointed. 

For me, he finished my sentences for years.  On air, I knew what to say when he didn’t. He knew instinctively when I was too serious or too deep. I pulled it back when I thought one of his jokes might be going to far. I watched him journal daily, very thoughtfully.  And I witnessed him work to trick the fates playing lottery. 

How to say goodbye to such a legend? You simply don't.  You take the spirit of his laughter- and apply it to your own life.  You read books, like he encouraged us all to do.   You take the welcoming, unconditionally loving, non-judgemental spirit of his, and you treat people in that same manner. 

Our decades on-air together were beyond what I could've ever dreamed. Kismet.  Fate.  One of those rare experiences in life when you just know that there is a person on earth meant to cross your path. 

I looked back and remembered we used to exchange poems (competitively trying to figure out who was the better writer 😂).  To quote from one of his peoms to me (read below), I can't wait to see what happens next! (whatever that is, it won't involve me keeping you from talking!).. 

My friend, welcome to the other side! I am forever grateful that fate brought us together.  xoxo 

Craig, trying to steal my EMMY

One of his poems to me

    One of my poems to him

Circles and Grief

That white spotted owl showed up again... I heard it last night. 

Some say owls are a messenger of death.  But I've also read that owls symbolize wisdom and endurance.  Regardless, it keeps finding me...

The other day, I bid farewell (with the rest of Arkansas) to an iconic radio legend, Tommy Smith. I went on the show to say goodbye the day before his last show on-air. The next morning, I listened to his goodbye, and the tears just did not stop.  Granted, he is a dear friend to me. But I think the tears were about more than his goodbye...

I sat with the emotion (not an easy task for me) and the grief eventually overwhelmed, as it is known to do. I realized it was one year ago, I, too, said goodbye to a 29-year broadcast life I lived, which felt like an afterthought, fogged by the bitter goodbye I was saying to my sweet momma.  One year ago, I held her hand as she lay dying. 

These moments are huge. Sometimes so big that you cannot grasp the gift of it at the moment it's being given. Or is it a gift? These ridiculously magical, tough moments we see and feel?  Or is it just part of the human experience? An experience that is so precious, whether difficult or delightful?  

To be truthful, I've barely been able to think about it, her death.  Hardly able to even go through her clothes, jewelry, and personal belongings - even a year later. Her suffering was so great in the end, we wished for God to take her.  I remember feeling so guilty for that.  Because today, what I would give to hold her hand! 

Grief is not what I thought it would be.  No one prepares you for it. And frankly, our culture does a crappy job of accepting it. We want it tidy and clean and done in a short time - on to be happy! ..on to be productive!  ..when the idea of either of those things in the face of loss is simply exhausting.  They say to be tough is to be fragile.  But the truth of the matter is - I've worn a shield most of the year, thinking that I had to be "strong..." I put on a smile anyway and fought through the sadness under the backdrop of enormous grief. 

I don't do resolutions, but I think as I step forward this year, I'd like to leave behind the shield and armor covering up the reality of my broken heart. I'd like to welcome in grace and compassion - and let my children and the world see that.  Wouldn't that be a better lesson for our children than to teach them to always be happy and productive?  What if, instead, we taught them mercy and goodwill?  

Maybe that spotted owl is onto something as it circles around my existence?  This beautiful creature believed to be a guardian of sacred knowledge!  I keep going back to something I read recently. One of my favorites, a reminder that we are all just circling through this life, never knowing when our time is up. 

Black Elk Speaks

You have noticed that everything man does is in a circle.Everything the Power of the World does is done in a circle. The sky is round, and I have heard that the earth is round like a ball, and so are all the stars. The wind, in its greatest power, whirls. Birds make their nests in circles, for theirs is the same religion as ours. The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle. The moon does the same, and both are round. Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing, and always come back again to where they were. The life of a man is a circle from childhood to childhood, and so it is in everything where power moves.

The White Spotted Owl

When I saw the white, spotted owl on my morning walk yesterday, I knew it meant something. Can't explain it.  But I stopped in my tracks.  My dog noticed it too.  It was like a notice.  Pay attention. 

I didn't think about it again.  Until this morning. When I was walking in the very same spot.  I didn't see the owl.  But I grabbed my phone and made a very important call.

Today is one of the best days of my life. At 3:18am, October 20, 2008, I gave birth to a precious, perfect baby girl.  Every detail is still so crystal clear:  the spicy chili I made (I had heard spicy foods induce labor; the contraction while I was chopping onions; the next one... and the next; the bedtime prayer with my son, telling him tomorrow he would be a big brother; the drive to the hospital and the call I made to my mom saying I was certain baby girl was on her way; the harsh hospital lights when I walked in that night; falling asleep and the nurse later waking me to say, "time to push;" the magic I felt when I held my daughter for the first time...  

I laid awake staring at her until the sun came up.  Never did I know such unconditional love for a girl until that moment!  But what followed is the kind of story with a juxtaposition so great, you can't ignore it - or ever forget it.  

My phone rang.

"Dawn, I am so sorry to call with this news, but our dear friend Anne Pressly was attacked. 

WHAT?

Another friend:  "I am so happy for you, Dawn.  But this is really bad."

All the words blended into a melting pot of horror.. unrecognizable, overnight attack, beaten, never showed up for the morning show... 

Then, someone told me that her precious mom picked up the phone to call Pressly.  It was her morning wake up call for her daughter, who's job was the same as mine, just a different hour of the day.  Anne did not answer.  

I imagine for her mom, it was the kind of knowing -deep in your gut- when you just feel you know. Something horrible happened.  The rest of Anne's story is not what this blog is about, though.  It's about a mother's love for her daughter. 

I sat staring in awe at mine, who'd just taken her first breath.  I couldn't stop thinking about Anne, who was taking her last breaths. I couldn't stop thinking about her mother who was living a nightmare. 

I later found out that the moment I gave birth was the moment Anne was fighting to stay alive.  It has haunted me ever since. I've never written about it until today, 13 years later. My daughter is 13.  Anne's mother marks 13 years without hers. 

When I passed the spot where I saw that white spotted owl, I instinctively called Anne Pressly's mom.  The moment we heard each other's voices, there were immediate tears.  She didn't want to talk about Anne, though.  She wanted to hear all about my daughter. What she is like.  What she loves.  Her personality...   turns out, my girl is a lot like Anne, her mother told me. Both have a wicked sense of humor, bold and courageous, yet humble and kind, giving special attention to those who may be marginalized or 'different.'   

Two mommas who share a sacred, holy moment in time...

I find myself asking why.  Screaming it, really.  WHY? 

Why do I get to talk to my daughter everyday and she doesn't?  Why did mine get the privilege of life on this beautiful planet and hers did not? Why do I get to celebrate my girl's birthday and she does not?  

Today on the phone, Anne's mom said to me, "I take it one day at a time, Dawn.  I want to remember the hugs and the kiss, when I kissed her on the forehead."  She went on to say that "God has a way of blotting out the horror... the suffering dissipates." Her incredible, unwavering faith is what carries her. 

In the conversation, I shared that my mom had died earlier this year.  She said to me, "I am here for you. Let me help you learn to nourish you and lean on God." 

An incredible woman, mother- sharing wisdom and endurance, born out of a pain most of us will never know.

Later, I looked up what that white, spotted owl symbolized.  Guardian spirits who protect us, representing wisdom and endurance.  We all have them, if only we stop to pay attention. 

Grief, Braces, Loss, Coronavirus and the "Mother lode"

It was pouring rain.  A complete pathetic fallacy, looking back at the events of January 7th.

My 12-year old was beside herself all morning.  On the way to the appointment, she looked at me and smiled so big past those nerves that were wearing her down. I snapped a picture. We realized it was the last time in 2 years she'd be smiling without a mouth full of metal.  We were on our way to get braces.

It wasn't just her anxiety that was through the roof.  My mother was in home hospice.  Her health had deteriorated.  Death was imminent.  Every time I left her side, I feared it would be the last time I'd see her alive. 

Yet life didn't care that death was hovering that day.  Children must go to school.  Daughters need braces.  Appointments made months ago require you to show up.  Life carries on.  

But when it came to mom, death won the day.

Mom would never see her granddaughter with braces.  

After the appointment, I rushed back to my mother's side.  Her heart rate dropped.  Her breathing was rapid.  My aunt (her primary caregiver) and I looked at each other through tears, realizing it was the end. 

In a sweep of grace, the three of us lived through something so sacred, so beautiful, yet heart-wrenching, all at once.  We held her and prayed, as mom took her last breath. 

Everything that followed has not been so beautiful.  Yet wise souls in my life remind me constantly: in life, all that doesn't seem so beautiful is truly the "Mother lode," if you choose to search for those gifts buried deep in the mud.

(Mother lode: "a principal vein or zone of gold or silver ore.  The term is also used colloquially to refer to the real or imaginary origin of something valuable or in great abundance.")

I'm not sure I've found ANY silver (aside from the silver on my daughter's teeth).  But I've found a whole lot of grief and sadness. I certainly haven't found gold.  But I have found that my circle of friends and family have hearts of gold, so large and loving, they've lifted and supported me when I couldn't get out of that mud. 

I also found coronavirus.  Or it found me just a few weeks after mom died. It was a one-two sucker punch, and I took it real personal.  Three days in, I found myself as sick as I've ever been in my life. I was beyond exhausted.  I slept and slept, and I felt like I was never waking up better. Only waking up wondering if my mom's death and the virus were all just a nightmare.  The massive winter storm during illness and grief was yet another pathetic fallacy.

(Pathetic fallacy: the idea that the weather mirrors human emotions)

It was the winter of my life. Yet the snowfall seemed too much.  If I were writing a novel about these events, I wouldn't have used snowfall as a back drop, because it would seem just too melodramatic. 

After 3 weeks, I recovered from COVID-19.  But I don't know what the coming months will bring or if I will have any lasting or "new" symptoms pop up.  Whether you've been sick or not, the pandemic stole from all of us. It took the way we lived, worked, traveled and learned, and it forced us to hunker down and avoid death.  Yet half a million in our nation so far didn't avoid death.  Coronavirus collectively took a year of our life expectancy in the United States.  

It feels heavy. Illness and death swirls everywhere.  

To carry on without mom makes it worse.  Mothers are our pathway to life on earth. Moms get us here.  

I know the load will lighten.  For now, I'll take over as matriarch to my amazing son and daughter, and when she smiles, I'll at least see silver.  A constant reminder to keep searching for the Mother lode.  One day, I know sunshine will reveal the gold embedded deep inside this shattered landscape.  

My daughter, just after getting her braces

My beautiful momma

The things people say (and why they don't matter)

Since I announced I’m leaving television news at the end of 2020, people have said all kinds of crazy things to me. 

One friend specifically felt the need to warn me, saying  I will lose people I consider “friends” because, as he put it, “they’ll have no use for you anymore since you’re not in a powerful position on TV.”  Really?! I thought.  Another shared that they felt I “had it all” and questioned why on earth I would ever give up a coveted spot on-air.  Others have asked me if I think this is a smart thing to do in the middle of a pandemic. 

Honestly, none of this is a surprise to me.  As a single mom with a very public job, people have felt the urge to say anything they wanted to me over the years.  But I’ve actually already thought about what they've recently said before they even said it.  I figure, I’ll find out who is true and supportive - and who isn't.  And yes, it’s a risk!  But what’s riskier to me is NOT making the move.  Being home with my children while broadcasting from my living room showed me exactly the risk of me not being there. Plus, I will be working (I have to!).  I'll just be doing something that gives more flexibility. My children deserve to have me as much as they can. The pandemic taught so many of us that nothing is more important than home and family.  

What’s been so beautiful, though, is that aside from the skeptics, so many more friends, much to my great appreciation, shared that they believe this is 100% the right move.  One friend told me she thought it was the best decision I could’ve made, and she GAINED respect for me for choosing children as my number one priority. 

This decision has not come without fear, though.  Daily news is what I’ve known for 25 years of my life.  That is more than half of my time on earth!  I’ve been with one station for 21 of those years, and my heart is tied there.  Tied to viewers, to amazing co-workers, and to managers who worked with me to create a workable schedule.  I lived through so much there. My work was a refuge during tough times in my personal life.  It's been a second home with a work family who laughs and cries with me.  I grew up there, and my children grew up as “TV kids.”  Before the pandemic, I recall we were at a restaurant.  A random man walked up to our table, and as he was en route, my son warned, “Mom, strange viewer-person coming behind you on your left.”  The man wasn’t strange at all.  He kindly shared gratitude for my commitment to children in foster care, then left us alone.  But it pointed out a sobering truth for me, even back then. My kids have had to share me with so many people we don't even know, and even worse for them, they’ve known their place.  Number one in my heart, but number two when it came to the hours of 2:30p until nearly 8p.  Evening news dominated those hours, and nothing about that would ever change.  

I never believed until now that I had another choice. But through the coronavirus pandemic, we’ve learned there’s choice and flexibility in so many things.  We choose our attitude before we ever get out of bed. We choose gratitude, or we focus on what we don’t have.  We choose action or complaint. We choose fear or love.  We choose whether we trust in God when something new is dreamt and placed on our hearts.  We choose how to spend the precious hours each of us has been given.  We’ve all seen that if we aren’t creative and resilient during these outrageous times, we won’t make it. We’ve learned what matters to each of us.  

Initially, when we first heard the words “covid nineteen,” some of us thought, “this is the end.”  For some, it has been, in such a heartbreaking way.  For others who wondered if it really was the end, it was an opportunity to re-define who we are and where our focus belongs. Mine is on “home” and a son and daughter who are now #1 every day, every hour of the day. 

With that as my priority, does it really matter if a lose a friend based on whether I’m on TV?  Do I really have it all if what's important is out of line? If I don’t make a change now, then when? 

We have one go around (I think).  I have to believe at the end of mine, I won’t be wishing I spent more hours on television and will simply wish I had more time home, with the ones who matter most. 

Rooted

I've started typing this so many times.

I have opened this blog countless times since the pandemic and

I have writer's block, and I can't figure out

Okay, 2020.  Stop already.  

Covid, take a seat. We're sick of you.

I don't even know what this blog post will be about - or where it will lead. Or whether it will be worth reading.  But I suppose that is just our new way of being right now.  Don't know where we're collectively headed.  No clue when or how this will all end.  Fuzzy trying to envision what this will look like on the other side.

But I think I'm learning that is okay. 

Did we know where we were headed before the pandemic? Did we know where it would end?  Unless we're fortune tellers I don't think so..

It started to make me think... we are constantly grasping for solid ground, a sturdy foundation on which to stand. I think so many of us make the common mistake of finding our footing in:

• Good health
• A safe, secure job
• Financial security 
• Our children behaving properly
• Our family's health and happiness
• Routine
• A solid marriage or relationships

Yet if any of these are the basis for our 'base,' what happens when: the job goes away? When money is tight?  When we get a bad medical diagnosis? When our children are on a bad path or our loved one is sick? When routine falls to the wayside?

Placing it all on elements that could change at any moment, well, it's frankly a fragile way to define stability, and it just leaves us grasping.  

The pandemic forced all of us to answer tough questions. For me: "Where am I rooted? And it is steady?"  

I don't think I'm alone in saying that 2020 year has pushed us to the edge. Anxiety looms. Fear is in the air.  The end seems nowhere in sight. There's fighting over what's truth and what's not.  Few of us are certain of what to believe or where we stand. I feel like it's more important than ever before for each of us to ask that one question: where am I rooted? 

Perhaps the pandemic is pushing us to evolve.  Perhaps it's asking each of us to reflect on how we are living on our lives, who we are loving, where we are spending our time and energy.  

And these are good questions to ask.

Because here's the thing. If each of us grows ourselves, it adds to the collective growth of our society. And who doesn't agree that our society needs to mature right now? 

I'm still answering the question.  But one of my answers shifted my perspective so dramatically that my heart and my soul are forever changed.  And for me, it all revolves around home and family, a re-thinking of my role at home and the privilege it is to shape tiny, growing lives.

Where am I rooted?... 

.. a question worth answering. After all, it was Winston Churchill who said, "Never let a good crisis go to waste."

When Life Gives You Lemons...

I officially lost it.  

Yes.  Yelling.  Things I said that I really wish I could take back.  Yes.  In front of the children.  

I don’t want to admit this to anyone.  It’s embarrassing.  It feels dark.  It feels shameful.  I really wish it hadn’t happened.  

But I can’t help but think I’m not the only mom losing it about right now.  I can’t help but feel I’m not the only one sandwiched between these beautiful children (who are about to crawl out of their skin they’re so sick of being cooped up) and elderly parents (who remain shut-in per my orders).  

The string of underlying angst is more than all of us can bear.  Not only are we coming apart in our homes - homes that have become gyms, schools, restauarants, and  salons - we walk out side, terrified to get too close to a neighbor and literally jumping back at the grocery story if you round the corner and nearly run into someone.  

How and where is the peace of mind?   

It’s just doesn’t seem to be “out there” right now.  Not in our culture.  And collectively, we are weary.  We are tired.  Exhausted.  We see no end in sight.  

Everyone is grieving something.  Whether it’s a precious human being, or a job, or a sport, or a teacher, or a friend, or a place - and no one’s grief is greater than anyone else’s.  It may seem trite to mourn not being able to see a friend or not being able to retire as soon as you’d hoped when someone you know  just lost their father or mother or sister to this wretched virus.  But your grief is just as real.  

Anyway, back to the meltdown.  It was over Snapchat.  OF ALL THE THINGS!  It’s usually always something small and insignificant though when you’re dealing with heaviness, right? 

My daughter is too young for it, but she’s close in age to the time we allowed our son to have it.  She begged and begged.  We broke down and said “yes,” and there was an immediate breaking-of-the-rules. So I did what every great mother in the history of good mothers did and LOST MY SH*%!! 

I took back Snapchat moments after I’d given it (which I should’ve never relented and allowed in the first place). I screamed all kinds of things, then got very upset and down over my outburst.  And since there’s no leaving the house, the children were privy to it all. 

This morning, I “pleaded the coronavirus,” when we gathered to discuss the series of unfortunate events. I apologized and tried my very best to point out my parenting failure and mistakes and use it as a learning opportunity - to say that none of us is perfect, these are uncertain times, and, while it’s not okay to react as I did, we can all do our best to understand that we will ALL probably have at least one fall-apart before it’s all over with.

When I called to confess and cry to my aunt (I trust her with my entire life, by the way), the first thing she said was, “Where is your gratitude, sweetie?  Where is your grace?”  I burst into tears.  My gratitude and grace had disappeared.  Went away with all the peace of mind that’s gone too.  But in that same moment, I realized that peace of mind is within.  So is the gratitude.. so is the grace. I’ve spent this day counting up every single thing I could be grateful for.  And in every moment I began to beat myself up (with the WORST of self-talk) over what had happened, I just stopped and said the word “grace.”  G-R-A-C-E.  Courteous goodwill.  Divine assistance given to humans for their regeneration.  

So, right now, I offer to you what she offered to me.  Gratitude and grace.  Drop the level of expectation right now.  Let go of what was. Be thankful for what is, even if it’s just the air you breathe in this very moment.  Allow yourself peace of mind.  Give yourself grace for where you are right now.  Because you’re right where you’re supposed to be.  We all are. 

xoxo 

TikTok, An Access Letter & Our Invisible Enemy

It took a TikTok video to finally send me into tears.  TikTok.  The app I've grown to both love and hate.

Since March 11, when the pandemic showed it's ugly face in my community, it's been a non-stop rush to calmly inform, uncover and report facts to thousands of people who rely on me everyday.  Not fear-based, incorrect, shrill information.  Just the plain 'ole truth.  These days it takes some real thoughtfulness and digging to actually find it.  Needless to say, there really hasn't been a moment for me to stop to process what this all means.

Until I saw the 25 second TikTok..

I was home with my children.  Thankfully, they've been decently proactive about getting their schoolwork done.  It's going pretty well!  It took some adjusting in the first couple of days, but we're are trying for somewhat of a routine at this point.  Honestly, it's utter chaos! And that's okay.  But we are doing our best..  aren't we all?

Anyway, we were all home a couple nights ago, and I'd been rushing to update the growing number of people infected in our community with this invisible enemy.  My daughter came up to me, and excitedly said, "Mom! Look at the TikTok I made."

Thinking it would be one of these weird, viral dances their generation posts, I sluggishly looked away from my phone - to her phone- except this time, I was stunned.

Her post read, "My last year at Forest Park (elementary school), and I might not get to finish it 😢😢 I love you so much FP! Thank you for my great years here.."  The song lyrics "You Were Good To Me," accompanied photos of my sweetest girl with her best friends from the first day of school, until now.

Now.

What is "now" anyway?  This new reality, this new way of living, this new thing called "social-distancing."  This disruption and utter removal of all things we thought made life fun, worth living.  No March Madness.  Just a new madness.  Friends of ours now unemployed.  Friends with family in nursing facilities infected with thing we cannot see, hear, or touch - keeping us all from touching each other.  Her first day of school -living our old normal - up until now.

Her beautiful post showed me that the most basic, taken-for-granted things - as simple as the school bell every morning, daily friendships on the playground, a last school year at a beloved elementary - those things are gone for her.

The next day at the television station, I was given my "access letter" from the federal government in the event restrictions are placed or a lock down happens. This letter is to be kept in my car, I was told. It gives me (and every journalist) special permission to be out in the community if we are all quarantined.  It states I am "providing emergency communications and.... support to critical communications infrastructure facilities in response to: COVID-19 Declaration of National Emergency."

The TikTok + this letter stopped me long enough to grieve for a moment - to grieve the life I was living before March 11.

I still can't get my head around it all.  My heart is with every patient infected and their families.  It is with health care workers, risking everything they have to provide care. One thing I do know, is while we are apart, we actually need each other more than ever before.  No matter where we've been or how much we may disagree, now is the time for unity in our fight against an enemy that doesn't care who's side we're on.

I believe there is a light in the distance.  And it's going to shine brighter every day through this darkness.  But that light will need us to show how kind and caring we can really be right now.  It will need to see values that sweep past our differences, aiming to serve one another.  It will require vigilance over stupidity.  Persistence and patience through pain.  This virus really might be what unifies us.

I do believe one day soon, those TikTok dances I both love and hate will again be all over my daughter's feed and I won't need a letter to walk -or drive- the streets of the community I love.

Why I'm Paying Attention to Covid19

I'm a broadcast journalist by trade.  I've been a reporter now for 27 years.  Through the years, I've covered tragedy, natural disaster, death. I don't typically panic, nor am I a fearful person.  But I am deeply concerned about the coronavirus and Covid19.  Here's why.

A few weeks ago, I interviewed a state infectious disease expert, who told me that coronavirus is highly contagious, spread by droplets, and it was only a matter of time before it arrived in Arkansas. She was right. As of today, there are 6 patients with presumptively positive test results.  One of them is a child.  There are also countless people who've been in contact with these 6 people.  All of them are now in self-quarantine. There will be more...

We have no defense against coronavirus as a society.  There is no vaccine.  We have no immunity because it's "novel." And you can spread it even when you have no symptoms.  That makes the coronavirus much more dangerous than the flu.  Hardly anyone with the flu is asymptomatic.  They are plainly sick.  But you can spread the coronavirus and never come down with the illness. Coronavirus is most lethal to those in their 70s, 80s, and 90s, along with people who have chronic disease or compromised immunity.

I'm less worried about me, but I'm worried I could carry the virus unknowingly and infect someone who is infirm.

I've heard a number of people say, "this is blown out of proportion," or "the flu kills more people." First, the cancellations and "social distancing" are actions we should all welcome.  These measures are being taken not because Covid19 already happened here, but instead because health experts are working to change the outcome of this pandemic.  Their wish is to reduce the impact in our state.  Arkansas' Health Secretary Dr. Nathaniel Smith said, "we want to interrupt transmission before it occurs." It is a fact that containment stops the spread of virus.  Second, coronavirus vs. influenza is not a fair comparison (see paragraph 3 above).  We are no where near seeing what coronavirus' impact will be in Arkansas or America. We don't know how many will end up infected or how many will die.  Also, experts say we are at least two of years from a truly effective vaccine. 

So, I'm troubled by Covid19's arrival in Arkansas.  By no means am I panicked.  Nor do I suggest you panic.  But vigilance is required. Wash your hands frequently.  Greet each other with a smile instead of a hug or hand shake.  Stay home. Be positive.  And please be well, my friends.  We desperately need each other, we need unity, to make it through this.

In Mourning

Millions of people never even met Kobe Bryant. Yet the entire nation is in mourning. Why is it that we grieve the death of someone we never knew? 

Absolutely, it is one of those moments in life.  You'll never forget where you were when you heard the news that Kobe Bryant died in a helicopter crash. 

Maybe you cried. I did. 

Maybe it kept you awake last night...

..the death of a man who for all practical purposes was a stranger to you.

 But here's the thing, though. Kobe wasn’t a stranger. He was in our homes, on our screens, and he was doing BIG things.  Things we could all get behind.  Things that made us feel we were part of something more. 

I watched Kobe Bryant play at the Staples Center back in 2003. He and Shaquille O’Neal were the Greats. The Giants. (Little known fact: I attended LSU for one year in 1989-1990. I used to see Shaq around campus. I wasn't a huge basketball fan back then, and I really didn’t realize who or what I was witnessing at that time. But... there was just something about him that was almost unreal). It was the same when I saw Kobe play. They were superstars.

Maybe you’ve seen him play too. Maybe not. Doesn’t really matter, because -regardless- his death seems to have packed a real punch.  Why is that?

Is it because Kobe was so larger-than-life, that we just assumed he was truly unstoppable, even in death?  Maybe we hold some collective belief -some hope in this existence- that someone so Great really will live-on forever.  But death is always the great equalizer. The one thing we can count on. Rich, poor. Well known or not. It’s coming for us all...

Maybe it’s that it wasn’t just him. It was his daughter Gianna, too. Maybe it’s those images of him coaching her, hugging her, kissing her head her forehead with such pride. Maybe it's the way he poured himself into her and focused on her potential as a player. Maybe it’s the parent in us who grieves, who thinks about GiGi's mother having lost both her husband and a daughter in one instant. 

Or maybe it’s just that we all do what Kobe Bryant did that morning. What John and Keri Altobelli did.  What Sarah Chester did.  What Christina Mauser did.  We all leave the house. The people we love leave the house. We live.  We work.  We breathe.  And we’re all expected to return home safely that night.  But Kobe didn’t return. GiGi didn’t.  John, Keri, Sarah, Christina, Alyssa, Payton, and Ara Zobayan (the pilot) didn't return home. Maybe that’s why we cry.  Because it could've just as easily been one of us yesterday...

Maybe it’s that he simply inspired us. Think about that. Let that soak in for a moment. If a person you don’t even know inspired you, think what you can do for another human being?

Kobe said it himself:  "The most important thing is to try and inspire people so that they can be great at whatever they want to do." 

Be that.

Take this tragedy, and inspire someone, somewhere, somehow today.  

And squeeze the people you love just a little harder.  Don't miss the chance to tell them you love them.  

You never know when your time -or theirs- will come. 

  

A Letter to My Son on His 13th Birthday

In a few days, you'll officially be a teenager, and there are a few things you should know…

First, you are my greatest blessing.  You were the little life that first made me a mom!  I will never forget the day I found out about you.  Your father and I lived in our lovely, quaint Queen Anne home in Seattle.  I was in the tiny downstairs bathroom when I saw the two pink lines begin to form on the pregnancy test. I sat in wonder, bursting with tears.  When your dad and I went for an ultrasound to make sure you were a healthy baby, your father spotted it first, even before the technician.  You were a boy, he said!  Neither of us had ever been as excited about anything in our whole lives.

I craved Nacho Cheese Doritos and Lay’s Potato Chips for 9 months.  Don’t you notice, if I ever even buy a bag nowadays, they’re gone within a day?  I blame you…

There was a possibility you’d be a Christmas baby, but you came early, on the 21^st, the Winter Solstice.  The Solstice marks the start of winter, and after the 21^st, the days start getting longer.  We would learn later, you ALWAYS love cold weather.

You were a night owl, from the time we brought you home from the hospital.  You refused to sleep unless you were held.  To this day, who is the last one in bed at night? 😊

We’ve had the privilege of watching you grow into a young man who is witty, sensitive, wicked-smart, friendly, selfless, helpful, and calm.  Your athletic ability is good, and you have the potential to be great, with hard work and perseverance.  One of your coaches told me one time that “it just comes easy for him.”  And another teacher told me to “protect his brain, he’s a smart one.”

I’ve watched you assist others who struggle, without being asked.  I’ve seen you remain quiet when you could’ve easily snapped back.  I’ve witnessed you L O V E big, especially when the person on the receiving end may not seem deserving. 

Here’s my advice: 

ALWAYS remain true to yourself.  There’s something my grandfather used to tell me:  “This above all; to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.”  In other words, if you know who YOU are, you won’t be false -or lie- to anyone else around you.  Just be you.  

WORK HARD.  Expect NOTHING in return for it.  You are not entitled to anything.  The world owes you nothing.  You are only in control of your attitude and the behavior and effort you show yourself and others.  When you do put in extra, you will be rewarded.  BUT, remain humble.

THE WORLD WILL BREAK YOUR HEART.  Sometimes, sweetie, you won’t get what -or who- you want.  But God always gives you what you need.  Show gratitude.  It’s the only appropriate response.

ALWAYS SHOW RESPECT and KNOW YOUR PLACE.  Know when it’s appropriate to be funny.  Know when it’s not.  Respect your parents, grandparents, your friends’ parents, your teachers, coaches, and peers.  LISTEN, and don’t always feel the urge to talk and explain.  Have compassion for people you encounter.

UNPLUG.  Read books.  You’ve always loved to read.  Sit in silence and BE BORED.  There’s plenty of time for phones and computers, but I want you to remember what it’s like to be alone, with just you. 

NEVER FORGET WHERE HOME IS.  I know you want to travel far and wide.  But always remember where you came from.  Always know that home is wherever your family is.  I will be there for you wherever this life takes you.  Here to celebrate, here to offer a shoulder to lean on when life gets hard, here to listen to you, here to support you, and forever -until my very last breath- here to love you. Don't ever forget who you represent.

Take these words and weave them into the life you are just beginning to create.  As you start these teenage years, you will learn big things and have amazing experiences.  You will also make mistakes and have regrets.  What I always want you to remember is this – you walk around this world with a piece of my heart, and that means I am ALWAYS with you - to support and love you all along the way. 

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, my sweet, precious first-born boy ~

Momma

NOT TODAY: Why I Sent My Children To School

The threat was vague and, according to police, it was not credible. Nonetheless, panic ensued. Arkansas parents and children freaked out.  Social media took rumors and made them fact with ZERO validity.  And once again, we were all left to decipher fact from fiction with little information. 

It all started on a video game chat.  An anonymous person threatened to carry out a mass shooting, first, at an unspecified school in Kentucky on August 28 and then again at an unspecified school in Arkansas on August 29.

I am a journalist by trade, naturally curious yet always a skeptic. The skeptic in me starting asking questions. This must be a hoax, right? Who is saying this? Why is my email blowing up with releases from the Little Rock School District and Arkansas State Police? All they said was they’re aware of the threat and tried to reassure that student safety is of utmost importance.

That left me empty. What am I supposed to do? Send my kids to school?  Keep them home?  Linger on campus throughout the day?

In years past, as a news reporter, we would’ve never considered covering a threat. But this time, one Arkansas police chief told me there have been enough mass shooting in America that investigators are able to study them. And in every case, he said, the shooter said something or did something prior to the violence, but the people who heard or saw it, never came forward with the perceived "threat."  That’s the culture they now want to change, and it's part of the reason we knew about this one. 

I get it.

But is raises a BIG moral and ethical dilemma for me as a mom. Now that we know about these threats (again, in the past, we wouldn't have reported them - because that would've just resulted in fear, panic, attention on the person making the threat; hence, irresponsible reporting), how do you balance the safety of your children versus living a normal everyday life?

I don't have the answers.  But I suppose this is our new normal.

It sickens me that our children were crying at drop off this morning. It was both jarring and comforting that police showed up to the very place we’ve traditionally accepted as safe. It’s absurd, frankly.  My “young brain” screams, I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?  My “college brain” wants to debate gun control and the so-called “education bunker” that we at least seem to be creating. And my “mom brain” ONLY wants protect. So, keep my 5th and 7th graders home, right?

Nope. Not today.

Not today will fear win out.

Not today will a coward take away my children's right to learn.

Not today will we stay home and let our educators take the hit alone.

Instead today, we go to school. We talk to our children, not in a panic, but explaining that, sadly, this is part of the world in which we live. We explain -sanely- that not everyone is sane, and we give examples of what that means.  We guide them and love them and hug them a little bit tighter for a little bit longer. 

Today, I told my children not to walk the halls afraid, but to walk in confidence and with courage.  Be smart, not afraid. 

Because today, the bully does not win.

My brave little darlings...

...and that's a wrap!

Me, with just a few more hours until I CAN EAT! 😀

Y'all, it's over. 

Was it worth it?  I guess time will tell.  Looking back on this week following a fasting mimicking diet, I can say that I slept better, felt better as the week went on, lost approximately 8 pounds (as of this morning), and I'm trusting that an "internal clean-up" happened inside my body.

Would I do it again?  Maybe.  This weekend, I'll ease back into food.  I'm a fan of intermittent fasting, as well, so I will probably continue with that. From what I've read, many experts agree that the autophagy process initiates in humans after 18-20 hours of fasting, with maximum benefits once the 48-72 hour mark has been reached (and beyond). 

My goal was to finish the entire 5 days.  I also wanted to see how it felt to fast for this long, to activate the longer term autophagy, or "cleaning house" of old tissue and cells.  I can only trust that it happened.  My other goal was a "reset." To start again on a healthier path.  I achieved those all.

I am extremely grateful for all your words of encouragement and support.  It truly helped me.  I especially loved reading all of your experiences with fasting.  It made me feel less alone! 

Thanks for following along - and keep sharing with me!

 xoxo