Claim our Light

I'm ending 2022 cozied up in my warm living room with my fur niece, Sunshine, and feeling like the luckiest girl alive. I have a home, I have my family, I'm retired and loving every minute, I have friends. It feels like the world is returning to normal after two years of chaos. Life is good. So good that sometimes, if I close my eyes and ears to it all, I can imagine that this world we live in is perfect. 

Those pictures creep in, though, of children, parents, grandparents, fleeing their country as their homes and cities are shattered from missiles and bombs. The war in Ukraine rages on, and lives are forever changed. I have a personal connection to some of those affected. I had two classes of students from Ukraine in my online teaching job. Right after the war began, they stopped coming to class, and I didn't hear from them for a month. I prayed for them daily. Just when I thought I would never hear their voices, they came back. Most of them were now in other countries--Poland, The Czech Republic, Scandinavia--in exile with relatives or friends. All 20 were safe and ready to return to school. Prayers answered.

Marianne Williamson, one of my favorite inspirational writers, always has the words to put things in perspective. She said, 

If the tragedy unfolding in Ukraine proves anything, 

it’s that a light is missing in the world

 or so much darkness could not have gotten in. 

Part of that light is who we used to be. 

For the sake of literally everyone, may we claim our light again. 

I'm claiming my light in 2023! I'm shining a big spotlight on any darkness from the past year and turning it to light. 

The 4th of July fire across the street from my house that almost crossed the street? Shining a light on that. And thank you, superhero firemen, for keeping my house safe.

Sad goodbyes and teary reminders of world figures? Let your light shine on all of us. Remembering Princess Diana on the 25th anniversary of her tragic death followed so closely by Queen Elizabeth's passing was heartbreaking. I revisited all my Diana books and collectibles on August 30 and even dug out my black sheep sweatshirt from the 80s patterned after Diana's red sweater. Mom and I watched all the ceremonies for Queen Elizabeth. What a role model and leader. And may I just add, can we be done with the constant "news" about this Royal family? Buckingham Palace and all the Royals--stop being racists. And Harry, stop selling out your brother. Find your light, Royal Family.

2022 was already filled with light despite the darkness. So many of us jumped on the Wordle train this year. It has become a morning routine for my mom and me, We sit at the kitchen table, Mom with her iPad and coffee, me with my iPad and tea, and work together to solve the day's puzzle. It's always interesting to see if Mom is going to find Wordle . No Mom, you're on Facebook. Wordle is in Safari. No, that's messenger. Safari is blue. And on and on. It's hilarious. I really should record us sometime. But, wow, is she good. Often times it is Mom who gets the word, not me. 

We needed a little help from Sunshine.

My online teaching job is often the highlight of my day. I absolutely love teaching English! When I retired in 2017, I worried what I would be if not an English teacher. Here I am, almost six years later, still an English teacher. I work less than ten hours a week, all from home, with students all over the world. I have my best friend to thank for shining a light on this opportunity. Thanks, Eileen!

There is no brighter light in my life than my family. I got to see almost everyone in person this past year and definitely spent lots of time FaceTiming. Here are picture highlights:

TEA PARTIES!

VACATION!

(I hadn't been in an airport since 2019)

Fort Lauderdale 

The start of 2023 feels good. I'm claiming my light, day by day. Cheers to you and your light.

Happy New Year!

Ringing in 2023 with Sunny

Books snd Bubbles

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Redhead on a Sidewalk

I remember the shock of seeing Eileen walking down Box Butte Avenue that summer. You couldn't mistake her, but I did a double take anyway. Skin the color of piano keys. Swimmer's shoulders, strong and wide. And that flaming red hair, the giveaway of all giveaways. It was Eileen, alright, but what in the world was she doing here?

A car behind me honked impatiently as I continued driving up the Butte. That question nagged at me until I flipped a U at the next intersection. I had to get an answer. I spotted that hair, still floating down the sidewalk. I pulled into a parking spot, rolled the window down, and yelled, "Hey! Eileen." With those words, a friendship was born, still vibrantly alive 38 years later.

Eileen and I first met when we were thrown together in an undergraduate class, History of Theatre, a required class I put off until my senior year. I dreaded the long hours of research requiring me to spend countless silent hours in a stuffy library rather than boisterous nights under the dance floor lights of my favorite hangout. Eileen, on the other hand, welcomed this class like a mom welcoming her first born home for fall break. When I walked into class the first day, there she was, front row center, notebook open, red hair and smile illuminating the podium like stage lights. Throughout those sixteen weeks, as I struggled to stay awake during the lectures and toiled to complete the extensive research projects, Eileen waltzed through the course, smiling brilliantly as Professor Wheeler frequently read aloud her exemplary work. She never once walked in late or missed a class. We didn't interact much during History of World Theatre, and when the semester ended, our paths veered in different directions. Until the sidewalk sighting.

Eileen was in town because she got her first teaching job in a rural school outside Alliance and was looking for a place to live. I lived in Alliance, too, commuting to college sixty miles away as I finished my last year. A week later, I heard the banging of doors above my apartment. It had been empty for a few months, and I groaned thinking I would again hear every heavy footstep clomping around upstairs, every squeaky door opening and closing, from new neighbors. I glanced curiously out the window and saw a flash of red hair. Surely not. And the glimmer of porcelain skin. It couldn’t be. As a big box was lifted from a trunk, I saw the flash of that now-familiar smile. It was Eileen, soon to be my new neighbor.

Throughout the next year, Eileen and I were almost inseparable. I introduced her to the local hotspots. There’s nothing hotter on a Friday night in the metropolis of Alliance, Nebraska, than cruising the Butte. The bumper-to-bumper line of cars thumping up and down the cobblestone main street, horns honking, hands waving, friends uniting, was all we needed for entertainment. We cruised that Butte religiously, wine coolers hidden in Dairy Queen cups, KFC biscuits and honey for sustenance. If there were dash cams in 1985, their outtakes would show a life-long friendship unfolding on those cruises. Hidden inside the chatter and laughter, we shared our stories. Eileen told me she came from a close family with happy parents, five brothers, and one sister. I revealed that my parents were happily married for thirty years, that my dad died unexpectedly three years earlier, and that I had two brothers and three sisters. Eileen told me that even though she would be teaching elementary school, she longed to be an actress, and her hair was not red, it was titian. I countered with I couldn’t wait to graduate and teach high school, but I really wanted to be an actress on a soap opera, and my light blonde hair was not bleached, it was sparkled with highlights. As we revealed our secrets that year, we became bosom friends, kindred spirits, Anne Shirley and Diana Barry.

Thirty-eight years later, Eileen and I remain best friends. Except for a five-year period where I stayed in Nebraska and Eileen moved to Colorado, we have lived within five miles of each other. The solid foundation of our friendship is grounded in our similarities, but our differences add character. Just a peek inside Eileen’s closet feels like looking out on a Nebraska cornfield in the fall. Rows of sensible sweaters knitted in yarn strands of green and gold, crisp slacks in various shades of brown and tan, flat shoes, and her beloved walking shoes. On the shelves lie faded jeans, t-shirts, and her weekend sweats. My closet is a kaleidoscope. Bright red, pink, patterns and textures with dramatic black mixed throughout occupy every available space. Long skirts, mini dresses, wide-legged pants, leggings, skinny jeans, ankle boots, cowboy boots, knee-high boots all wait for their next occasion. 

We don't try to change each other--we're besties despite these differences, and I wouldn't have it any other way.  Eileen would not be Eileen without her beliefs. It takes more than a few differences to dissolve a friendship. Eileen and I embrace our differences as tightly as we hug our similarities. Throughout these thirty-eight years, our lives have gone through changes, from heartbreaks and celebrations, marriages and children, sickness and health, yet our friendship has been easy. Eileen remains a constant in my life, a Northern Star, a kindred spirit, my bosom friend, my BFF.

Happy, happy birthday, Bestie. 

Love you forever.

A Star is Born

 High School musicals sure have come a long way since my directing days in Nebraska at St. Agnes Academy or St. Paul Public High School. Case in point--Lakewood High School's recent production of Anastasia.  Oh my, the staging, the set, and THE TALENT. This isn't a review of this production, but I can't go on without mentioning the vocal and acting talent of Kate Yorga (Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna), Morgan Fritzler (Anya/Anastasia), Noah Schuster (Demitri), and Ethan Hoover (Vlad).The immense amount of talent in these four young adults is mind boggling, and a whole world of possibilities awaits them.

I'm here to rave about a budding new talent, Madison Lee Schultz. Madi, one of our Royal Babies (see here) (and here)  and my first-ever great niece, stole the show as young Anastasia and melted our hearts with her innocent portrayal of Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia. Could a first acting role be more perfect for a Royal Baby??

Madi auditioned for this part last fall. I saw a video of her audition, and there was no doubt in my mind that she would become  a member of the cast. This little girl can project. She sang "Do You Want to Build a Snowman," all alone, on a huge stage, with no microphone. Her voice filled the auditorium. She got the part, alright, and we couldn't wait for her big debut.

Sitting in the gorgeous Lakewood High School theatre several months later, my heart raced. The director in me knew that the scene behind the stage was anything but calm. Actors, directors, tech crew, and musicians were surely zooming around getting last minute costumes, props, and lights ready to go. I sensed that backstage energy and my own nerves reacted. At about that time, Madi's mom Ana approached my seat. "Nervous wreck" was written all over her face. Just like the gymnast's mom or the quarterback's mom or the prima ballerina's mom, Ana rehearsed in spirit with Madi. She knew every line, every note, and every move of Madi's character, and she channeled her energy to her daughter backstage. Before Ana headed back to her seat, she asked if I had read Madi's bio in the program. I had not, but after we hugged and I wished her good luck, I turned to the beautiful, professional program.

And saw this--

If I thought I wasn't going to cry, that was put to rest right there. Our sweet Madi is always looking out for everyone, 

Madi was one of the first actors to take the stage. Appearing in the prologue as young Anastasia in a flashback scene, she confidently and convincingly played her part. Enough so that tears flowed, not just my own, but a quick glance down my row revealed several audience members dabbing at their eyes. She danced elegantly with Tsar Nicholas (her dad) and sang sweetly, "Once upon a December," with the Dowager (her Nana). Her heartbreaking cry "Nana!" ended her first scene as the Dowager left town for Paris, but not before leaving little Anastasia a special music box to remember her.

Photos with blue background courtesy of Lakewood High yearbook staff.

If Madi's acting ability was ever in question, that was quickly put to rest. She appeared near the end of the first act as a completely different character. She played the part of a young refugee fleeing Russia with her family. Her moving performance--sad, scared, confused--ended Act One. Images of Ukrainian children and their families filled my mind and heart. It was impossible not to get emotional seeing this reminder of history repeating itself. Intermission provided a much-needed pause after this heart-wrenching scene. 

Madi made playing the part of Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia seem like a piece of cake, but it couldn't have been. She's an 8 year old whose real life is filled to the brim with school and family and friends and activities. She attended rehearsals after school and some evenings and weekends but still kept up with it all. She had never acted before, yet she owned the stage in all her appearances. 

It's almost like this Royal Baby was born for this part 😀  👑

A few fans of Madison Lee