T.A.C.O. or Thayer Annual Camp-out has been in action since 1994. My husband’s parents—Jim and Jan–started the tradition as a way to bring the family together. It was their attempt, I think, to bond their family by recreating everyone’s absolute, fondest memories of growing up—camping trips. Their foresight was keen, but even they could not possibly imagine what a great gift they were giving us.
What does a hood do? It protects, right? At a moment’s notice, a hood keeps us dry and warm and out of the wind. So, too, does the love of a good mother. Her hood of love is ready at a moment’s notice. When we are distressed, a soothing word from her can dry our tears. When we are cold with hunger, mother’s warm meal instantly alleviates our pangs. When we are being tossed about by the rough winds of life, her embrace shelters us and helps us feel safe.
N ot in my wildest dreams
O r my most fervent prayers did I think I would
V enture into the published world as a novelist,
E ven though I have had a
L ove for the written word since I was young.
“Read assiduously and learn as much as you can.” – St. Jerome
Sporadic blogging, I think, describes the life of any woman. We have to be prepared to start and stop activities, chores, errands, answering emails, and completing projects at the drop of a hat. Why? Because our relationships mean so much to us. We desire that our most-loved people feel connected. Women have historically been the connectors. It is woven into our feminine nature and genius.
John and I were safely tucked away in Tucson when the pandemic hit. With a month left on our winter rental lease, we decided to stick it out where we were. Besides, our newly-retired dear friends had just arrived from Michigan. News of the pandemic, along with the stock market crash, provided us with an opportunity to bond in a deeper way. We talked about our shared faith and took comfort in the absolute trust of our decades-long friendship. We started the pandemic together and watched our accounts tank together and knew together that our faith and families were all that really mattered. Pandemic Partnership.
Today is my (may she rest in peace) godmother’s birthday. My mother’s oldest sister, affectionately known as Auntie Boo-Boo, was a stout, age-spotted, witty, and occasional potty-mouth whom I loved with all my heart. She’s gone now, but her tips on how to live a proper life are forever etched into my memory. She doled advice like Niagara Falls doles out water.