Forever. Amen.

Another Christmas has ended and I am thankful for many blessings. I had family, and love, and more memorable moments than I could ever count. But there is always one moment for me that I anticipate each year, and that stands out more than any other each Christmas. That moment is when my mom softly squeezes my hand as we finish praying the "Our Father" during Christmas Mass. Holding hands, as the congregation prays... "For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen", my mom always gently holds my hand just a bit tighter over the words "Forever. Amen."

Growing up, attending Mass every Sunday was not so much required as it was just a normal part of our living. As much as eating, and sleeping, and breathing - we went to church on Sundays. As I look back over the many hours that I've spent in a pew sitting between my parents, it is their hands that I remember most clearly. My mom's hands holding the missalette and guiding me with a pointed finger to our current place or the current hymn, when I had lost my place. My mom's hands folded in prayer as we kneeled side by side. My dad's hands - often good distraction for a child during Mass. Whether he was cleaning his fingernails with his long pocket knife or playfully "trapping" my hand to the pew as we stood in a silent hand-wrestling competition, he was always present and always open to the humor of a moment.

I pay a lot of attention to hands. For years, I've taken pictures of people I love - and I always like to pay special attention to focusing solely on their hands. Our hands tell our stories and they are where our character is revealed. When I think of any person that I know, that I love, one of the first images that I call to mind is always that of their hands. Though drawn to these images, I was never really able to articulate what caught my interest until sometime this last year when my Dad sent me an email about an old woman who  relates the story of her hands and I realized, her thoughts were exactly my own. Our hands have touched, have experienced every thought, emotion, and action throughout our lives. They are marked with our stories. They are as imprinted and scarred as our hearts are with all the memories of our lives.

I look forward each year to attending Christmas Mass with my mom - though it is late at night, often times brutally cold outside, and always after a full day of holiday celebration. I look forward to it each year for that one moment. When our hands are connected and she gently squeezes mine - telling me with her hands in a way that is stronger than any words, that she loves me. I have many photographs of the hands of those in my life, but in my minds eye, the image of hands (and of love) that is most prevalent is that of my hand in my mom's hand...and all the love that is there. Forever. Amen.

My Hands...

Mom's Hands...

Dad's Hands...

Following is an edited excerpt from the email that my dad sent me with the old woman's story of her hands...

"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. My hands have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when, as a toddler, I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They have wiped away tears, clenched in anger, and trembled with grief. They have held my children and grandchildren. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly, it will be these hands that God will reach out to when he leads me home and there I will use these hands to touch the face of God.'

So John and I got kicked out of Bethlehem. True story.

So John and I got kicked out of Bethlehem on Friday night. I am not making this up. Of course, it wasn't the real Bethlehem - but instead, was a Living Nativity in Longville, MN. The idea is that you drive past a series of vignettes where actors are recreating the story of Christ's birth. It sounded interesting to me so I talked John into driving through on our way out to dinner that evening. 

I thought it was strange that the first vignette we saw was the stable scene and I thought it even more unusual that the "Baby Jesus" was laying in the manger while Joseph leaned on a near-by wall talking to one of the wise men, and Mary stood in the opposite corner drinking a coffee. John asked what I thought so far and I said "I think it would be more believable if Mary wasn't drinking a Starbucks". 

The second vignette was the Inn that turned them away - with a sign on top that read "NO RMIN" (honestly, you can't make this stuff up.) The innkeeper seemed to scowl at us as we continued on our way.

At the third vignette, the shepherds stood in the nearby field with their sheep. We slowed down as one of the shepherds approached and signaled to roll down the window. He very kindly said "I'm sorry but Bethlehem is a one-way street and you are going the wrong way. Would you please back out the way you came in?"

"Oh man," I said to John, "we just got kicked out of Bethlehem!"

Well, by now, my interest was certainly piqued so I convinced John to drive through once again - the right way this time. Yes, it made much more sense this time. There was Luke writing the gospel, and then Mary and Joseph journeying on their donkey. We then again, came upon the shepherds in the field and as we rounded the corner, a light came up on the Angel proclaiming the birth of Jesus. There was a man dressed as the angel strapped to a tree no less than 40 feet above the ground. Fantastic!

We drove past the innkeeper again and then were back to stable. Now everything was as it should be - Joseph stood by protectively as Mary held the baby in her arms. 

We had been thrown out of Bethlehem, but thankfully we found our way through eventually.

On a much more serious note, as we left, the image of Mary looking down at her child was an image that I could not shake from my mind. On a day when so many mothers had tragically lost their children. I think I needed the Living Nativity on Friday. I needed to be reminded about what this season is really about. And, more importantly, I needed to remember that sometimes we need to put down our coffee. Sometimes we have to be fully present in the moment. And, always, we need to hold closely those we love.

Don't Honk. I'm Pedaling As Fast As I Can.

The 1960’s era cherry-red Plymouth (or Dodge or Chevy, I don’t know for certain) was only remarkable for a few reasons that I can recall. First of all, it was owned by my Grandma Hart, and second, because it was always one of the first things we saw parked in her tiny garage when we came to visit her in Pine River. And finally, because the rear bumper was decorated with a bumper sticker that always made me smile, “Don’t honk. I’m pedaling as fast as I can.”

My Grandma had a terrific sense of humor – she laughed at the world, and was also never afraid to laugh at herself. She loved to tell stories and she surrounded herself with things that would make people smile – cartoons all over her refrigerator, quirky knick-knacks and such. She was an artist – painting, sewing, and crocheting were just a few of her many talents. My Grandma was also a lifelong learner – she never stopped having an interest in a wide variety of topics. And she fed her hunger for knowledge with constant books by her side. While Grandma could be completely fantastic through the eyes of a little girl due to her love of dolls, comfort foods, and laughter, she was in fact a very no-nonsense woman with a strong dose of common sense. Grandma was a hero to me and the traits that I so admired in her are things that I try everyday to model in my own life. She taught me so many lessons about being a strong woman and about being a good grandmother. I remember one of the very last times that I visited her in the hospital. A nurse came to check on her while she was sleeping and I was sitting by her bedside. The nurse asked if I was her granddaughter and I nodded. Then, she asked, "how many grandchildren does your grandma have?". The question struck me as I thought for just a moment and then replied “My grandma has many, many grandchildren. But she always made me feel like I was the only one.”  The nurse said “Ah, that sounds like a very good grandma.” Yes. She was. And she continues to teach me lessons even now.

I thought of Grandma one day at work this week, as I was rushing to figure out which priority was truly most important and working to get all the priorities accomplished, scrambling as fast as I can to get it all done. While also thinking about all the holiday tasks that have to be completed at this time of year: gift buying, wrapping, sending cards, entertaining, events, etc.  As everything rolled through my head, I suddenly clearly saw Grandma’s car in her garage and that bumper sticker saying “Don’t honk. I’m pedaling as fast I can”, and I smiled just like I used to do everytime I saw it 30 years ago. I know that if she were here, Grandma would remind me that of course some things NEED to be done, but some of the stuff is just…stuff. It isn't really the priority. She would remind me that this time of year should be about honoring what is really important – remembering all the people who have impacted my life, and loving all the people who are part of my soul. She would tell me to focus on what is important and maybe not to “pedal as fast as I can” but instead, to “pedal only as fast I need to”. There is a difference.

So, thanks Grandma, once again, even after you are no longer here with me, for continuing to teach me lessons. I will keep pedaling through this holiday season, but I plan to pace myself – accomplishing what has to be done while focusing on what is important.  Don’t Honk…I’m Enjoying the Moment.

PS: Because many of my readers are family, I'm sharing the following story with you as a post script. Years ago, I asked Grandma to write me a story about what Christmas was like when she was a little girl and this is what she shared…

"Each year about 3-4 weeks before Christmas, Ma would board a train for Chicago. There, she and Pa would buy our Christmas presents and each year some new tree trimmings. About 2-3 days before Christmas, my brother Leo would get the Christmas tree and set it up in the living room. Then a goose was killed and dressed. Ma usually made our Christmas dresses for the school program and of course knitted stockings, always black. We generally had new shoes ordered from Sears. On the day before Christmas, chores were done early. After supper, the dishes were done and the old tin tub brought in and everyone had a bath, then we hung our stockings and we kids were sent to bed. The older girls scrubbed the kitchen floor with lye soap and a scrub brush, then the tree was trimmed and presents were arranged. We were wakened to come see what Santa brought. I can still see the tree, the top almost touching the ceiling, all the candles lit, and all the gifts around it. One trimming I remember most was a fragile little red bird with a feather tail and if you blew in the beak, it whistled a bird call. One year, my sisters Lillie, Rosalind and I got a fur neck piece to fit over our coats and a muff to match. I remember it most because we were allowed to wear them to school and one evening, we were trudging home through the snow and a neighbor driving a team and wagon with a load of fresh sawed lumber, stopped to give us a ride. When I was boosted up, I leaned on the lumber and got my muff all full of resin from the lumber and got soundly scolded when I got home. Usually in our stockings by the chimney, we had a small bag of candy, an apple and an orange but one year my brother Leo filled our stockings with apple and potato peelings. He got scolded for that! My sister, Bessie, would come with her husband and children for dinner. Then we got to play with our toys while the older ones visited. I always remembered the house where I was born as a big house. Years later, as an adult when I saw it again, I was amazed how small it was and wondered how we all fitted into it!"

Trust Me: This is NOT your average movie review...

So, John and I decided to go see "Skyfall' tonight. We were running a few minutes late and expected to miss the previews, but were surprised to come in and the movie was already in full action. Bond was shooting, running, and evading death in (what we thought) was a very exciting opening sequence.

However, about 35 minutes in, suddenly the action stopped and the theme music started to play. I thought to myself...in this exact sequence...
"Geez....that was the longest opening Bond movie sequence ever."   Then... when the closing credits started to play, I thought:
"Geez....that was the shortest Bond movie ever."  Then...not until my third "Geez"....
"Geez...we came into the wrong theater."

Yes, we had intended to start with the 6:10 but had joined a movie that probably started somewhere around 4:30.

So, of course, we did what any rational thinking couple would do, we got up and headed to the theater next door (which was the original 6:10 showing we intended to see) and caught the full middle section of the movie.

When we got to the part where we had come in to the FIRST theater, we got up and went to the next theater for the 7:45 showing and finally...enjoyed the real opening sequence!

So we watched the end, the middle and then the beginning. As if a Bond movie isn't confusing enough, we had to see it out of sequence. Of course, after realizing our error, we were laughing so hard at our own stupidity that we had no other choice but to carry it through in order to see the full movie.

We needed a laugh...and fate brought it to us.

Sometimes, that's how it works. Moments come to us out of sequence and if we just let it happen, we are able to pause, take a step back, and enjoy the show. Thank you, James Bond, for bringing us some laughs tonight.

PS - The movie is awesome - you'll love the opening sequence...that comes at the end....

This Is NOT A Political Post...well...not really...

A scene from "You've Got Mail"...
KATHLEEN: I have something to tell you. I didn't vote.
FRANK: What?
KATHLEEN: In the last mayoral election, when Rudy Giuliani was running against Ruth Messinger, I went to get a manicure and forgot to vote.
FRANK: Since when do you get manicures?
KATHLEEN: Oh, I suppose you could never be with a woman who gets manicures.
FRANK: Forget it. It's okay. I forgive you.
KATHLEEN: You forgive me.

Do you remember this scene from the movie? I do. I remember the look on Kathleen's (Meg Ryan's) face when Frank told her that he "forgave her" for not voting. Clearly, in his mind, this was an act that required forgiveness. Clearly, in her mind, she couldn't quite equate the importance of voting to what it meant about Frank's perception of her as a person. I love this scene for two reasons: first,  I have been Kathleen; and second, because I think it is very telling about where and how a couples's relationship crosses political lines.

Let me be clear. I am not a political person. In fact, for most of my life...46 years..I have prided myself on being completely "a-political". Not aligning with a certain political party...felt safe to me and I've always liked safe. Add to that, the fact that when the kids were young, I felt like I never really had time to be political. There were many years that I felt that would just be a luxury...I was worrying about day-to-day issues...kids homework, dance classes, laundry, dishes, work, family, etc. I didn't have time to worry...or even think...about the bigger picture. Ok - I see now that might have been an excuse but at the time, I was simply too busy. However, voting has always been very important to my husband, John, and through most of our marriage...politics has been somewhat of a taboo subject. Because, for many years, I didn't even care about my right to vote. And for the other years, because I have reserved the right to maintain complete confidentiality about who I vote for.

It seems to me that this is one area above all others in life, where a person can truly maintain complete secrecy...confidentiality. And even though I occasionally share somewhat personal stories through my blog (as I guess, I'm doing right now), you might be surprised to know that I am actually a person who values personal confidentiality to the highest regard. This has occasionally been an issue with people in my life who want to discuss their personal political choices and don't understand my reluctance to share my own. I think they might view my silence as lack of commitment, or lack of personal character to stand behind my own beliefs. But in fact, it is really something else for me. It is just my personal right to keep my choices private.

That stance might be fine among co-workers, friends, or even family...but what happens when your political views (or your willingness to even discuss your political views) differs from your partner? 

We're back to the scene between Kathleen and Frank.  In the movie "You've Got Mail', this particular scene is a defining moment in Kathleen and Frank's relationship. She seems to realize that they are not on the same page...not necessarily politically...but on another level - understanding and accepting one another for who they are outside of their politics.

My hope is that, unlike Kathleen and Frank, you have a partner who understands that you are two separate people, with two separate minds, and two separate visions for managing your political viewpoints. I hope that you both support each individuals' right to make their own decision, as well as each individual's right to privacy about their choices. 

I'm not quite "so busy" these days and I have carefully watched the campaigning and election process. I'm not proud to admit to you that it has taken me this long to become "political", but I will be honest and tell you that is the case. However,  I was very proud to be able to vote for my choices today and did so without any hesitation about what I decided.

I maintain my right to right to privacy about my political views - even among those who are closest to me. However, I also support your right to share your views if that is your choice. For me, that is what democracy is all about...the freedom to stand for what you believe. 

Running Away From Home...

I’m absolutely furious as I throw everything into my suitcase. Tears flood my eyes making the task even more difficult. I can’t believe they would treat me this way, can’t believe they would do this to me. It was so undeserved! But it would end right here, right now. I feel slightly victorious as I imagine how bad they are going to feel when I’m gone, how much they will miss me…and how mad Mom and Dad will be at them.

I’m 7 years old (and perhaps just slightly over-dramatic). My older brothers and sisters are teenagers and they have been gleefully teasing me….for what I can’t even recall. With the benefit of hindsight, I know it was probably something silly (which was likely deserved since I was a bit of a geek) – they were never cruel or hurtful to me in any way. I just wanted their respect so badly that any level of teasing felt like betrayal. Anyway, at the time, I was really mad. I do remember storming to my room and filling my floral suitcase with all the essentials: a pillow, 10 pairs of underwear, and a candy bar. I remember sitting down at my white plastic cosmetic vanity which doubled as a desk, staring soulfully into the small mirror, and then putting pen to paper for a letter to them filled with all the threats and hatred I could muster. I remember trying to quietly sneak, with suitcase in hand, past the living room where they sat laughing at me, towards the door to my ultimate freedom.  Once outside, I took a deep breath and felt powerful as my lungs filled with fresh air…and with the open road before me, I set out – I was running away from home and they would be so sorry. I had traveled quite a distance, at least three driveways away from home, when one of my sisters came running after me and convinced (or threatened) me to come home. 

I was reminded of this day last week while doing some shopping in Northfield. There, in a small boutique, I saw the floral suitcase of my youth, marked “vintage 1970’s”. Without suspecting or having a chance to prepare, I was instantly transported back to that day when I was 7 – just by seeing a suitcase similar to one that I held that day. It was as if time and distance never separated me from that moment and I was full of the memory. I’m guessing this has probably happened to you too. You are going about your day when a song comes on the radio, or you smell a familiar fragrance, or you see something that you had long ago forgotten, but now suddenly remember so clearly. It’s as though you’ve been given the opportunity to travel back in time. And the chance to take a longer look around, and live in that moment for just a bit. As I get older, there seem to be more of these kinds of memories. And as I continue to age, I know at some point, those memories will become fuzzy and more difficult to recall. So, for now, I just take pause and live in those vintage 1970’s moments when they arrive.

What happened to my tormentors? Did my expertly written note to them inspire them to see my side of things and relent in their teasing? Nope…not a bit…because that is what brothers and sisters do. And of course, I also was guilty of teasing my little brother with little mercy. However, in spite of that (or maybe even because of it), they are all my best friends. We have laughed together about this day and a thousand other moments, a million times since I was 7 years old. And there is one thing I know with absolute certainty in this world - there is nothing they could do that would ever make me run away from them, and nothing I could do that would make them not come to bring me home.

I Got Lost...

I did something really stupid this past weekend. I got lost. In the woods. By myself. For hours. I’ve been kicking myself about it ever since because it was a foolish thing to do and because I panicked when I should have kept a clear head.

We were up north and John had gone dirt biking with a friend. I told him that I was going to take a drive and look at the Fall colors. I had barely gotten out of town when I saw a sign for a scenic park with hiking trails and thought that would be an easier, safer way to look at the colors rather than constantly pulling to the side of the road. I parked the truck…and perhaps should have been concerned that I was the only vehicle there. I glanced briefly at the trail map that was posted and…perhaps should have paid closer attention. I stepped over the vehicle barricade and entered the forest.

It was beautiful and peaceful and truly spectacular…for about the first 1.5 hours. The trail seemed to just kind of keep going and though my gut told me to turn around,  my head told me that I had to be nearing the end of the trail “just around the next corner”. Unfortunately, the simple loop suddenly changed and it seemed to split every couple hundred yards. One minute, I could swear I heard cars on the main road and must be close to the parking area, and the next minute it was again complete silence. I never passed another person anywhere on the trail. I never heard another person. I was completely alone and realized, that nobody had any idea where I had gone. Along the way, I had been taking pictures and collecting leaves, but at a certain point, that was no longer important and I dropped the leaves and stopped taking  photos. I was starting to wonder how lost I had become? Was I going in circles? How would I find my way out?

I walked faster and I breathed harder – both from the walk and from the rising panic. When I spotted a clearing up ahead, I was so thrilled but my excitement was soon diminished when I reached the clearing and found myself not at the parking area where I anticipated, but instead on an unmarked (and unpopulated) gravel road. After initially standing in the middle of the road and screaming a few choice words in frustration, I decided I had no choice but to keep walking…so I did. I walked…and walked…and walked. And never saw a sign. Never saw a house. Never saw a person.

By this point, I will tell you that I was truly in a full-on panic attack and I couldn’t seem to think clearly anymore. I had my cell phone with me and left an obscure, very frightening sounding message, for John. But it never occurred to me to actually use the compass/GPS on my phone to tell me where I was. After a period of time, I heard a car and as I turned around, I saw a truck approaching. I felt such tremendous relief that someone might be able to point me in the right direction, that I wasn’t even cautious about approaching a truck with a stranger on a deserted road. I was lucky. He was very kind. I told him I had gotten turned around and where I was trying to find my way back to. I asked if he could point me in the right direction. He said “of course ,but where you are trying to go is several miles back" and he offered me a ride. I’ve told my daughters a million times to never get in a car with a stranger and I think if my instincts had told me not to, I probably would have declined. Or maybe, my sense of relief would have over-ruled my instincts. In any case, I did get in the truck. And he brought me safely back to the parking lot. Again, I was very lucky and he was very kind.

Once back to my own vehicle, I tried to wipe away the tears (yes, I was full-on crying at this point) and tried to stop my hands from shaking. It might sound silly to you and looking back on it, I can laugh at my own foolishness. But in the moment, panic took over and I couldn’t seem to make myself think clearly. In retrospect, my mind is filled with “shouldn’t have’s” – I shouldn’t have gone out hiking by myself, I shouldn’t have gone somewhere that nobody knew where I was going, I shouldn’t have ignored my first instinct to just turn around, I shouldn’t have let panic overtake my better senses, I shouldn’t have selfishly forgotten to let John know that I was Ok, and maybe, I shouldn’t have gotten into a vehicle with a stranger. 

But when you are lost, you can’t see clearly. That’s the whole definition of being lost, right? Not knowing where you are and not knowing how to get where you want to be. It is terrifying and small obstacles suddenly seem so large. We do things that we wouldn’t normally do. And that sense of being displaced can lead to great panic which doesn’t allow you to breathe, or slow down, or gather your bearings. It was a gorgeous Fall day and I was never in any real danger; but the panic wouldn’t allow me to see that. I know that rationally now and I know that if I could have just calmed down, I would have made myself think clearly and found my own way out. Then it would have just been a nice (albeit long) walk in the woods, instead of cause for such fear. However, even telling the story now when I am safe at my computer and know exactly where I am and where I’m going, I can feel that panic rising as I remember my walk. Though I can’t justifiably describe it to anyone else, for me, it was real.

I’ve been lost before…in a million different ways - both physically and emotionally. I’ve taken wrong turns, I’ve made foolish choices, I’ve ignored road signs and maps, and I’ve lost my way. I’ve been lucky though to find myself back on the right path – through a clear thinking head, or through the help of someone around me. I’ve been lost before and I eventually find my way home. But for those minutes, or hours, or days in between, it is frightening to be alone and confused. I found my way home and learned a few lessons from the experience. I hope that wherever you are today, you are finding your way to a safe place and if you are lost, try to take a deep breath and keep your eyes open for someone who might come along to guide you.

Make The Most Of Every Play...

It’s one of the first truly chilly Fall mornings in Minnesota but the players are up early to gather on the field for football practice and a game. As they run through drills practicing their throws, runs, and blocking, they listen carefully to their coaches. The players have much to learn but they are focused and with the support of their team, their coaches, and their fans, some will become lovers of the game forever. There are no big salaries, no team owners with agendas, no refs on strike – it’s not about any of those things. It’s a game… and for these players, who are only four- years old, it is about being fully committed to a game that they are just learning to love.

I had the opportunity last weekend to go watch my Great-Nephew play one of his first games of football. Will is your typical four-year old boy who is full of energy and is so excited about everything he is learning in life. When he is told to run, he gives it all he has and doesn’t slow until they tell him to “stop!” When he is told to pull the other player’s flag from his belt, his eyes focus on that flag with complete concentration and nothing will deter him from his goal. He runs, he falls, he tackles (sometimes it just can’t be helped), he cheers for his teammates, and he dances when he knows he’s done a good job.

As the game is played, from the sidelines to the field, every emotion is played out. The fans on the sidelines cheer for the players, some might be nervous for their own players, and all feel the agony of a player’s hurt knee…or hurt feelings.  On the field, confusion and frustration are evident as players realize they are running the wrong way or pulling the flag from their own team member – but that is how they learn. There is joy when they feel like they are doing it all right – one little boy who after every single play, looks to his parents on the sidelines and, with a huge grin on his little face, screams “I think we are winning!” There is no scoring in this game. That isn’t really the reason for playing. They are there to have a good time together. They are there to learn how to use their bodies for the sport.  And they are there to learn the basics of good sportsmanship. From the pre-game huddle to the end-of-game lineup, they are learning what being on a team is about, about it being OK to make mistakes, about encouraging each other to do their best, and about celebrating their accomplishments after working hard.

As the years go by, these young football players will learn the rules of the game. Scoring will become very important and there will occasionally be penalties for making mistakes. But it is the lessons learned on the field at four-years old that will make them into truly great players…and great young men.

These are the very lessons and the very core principles that we should all value – whether in football, or at work, or in our personal relationships. Although there are likely many times when we all feel very much alone, life isn’t an individual sport. We need those around us to always be helping us learn, accepting our faults, and sharing our joys. Be that person for someone today. Is someone you work with struggling to learn a new concept or skill? Maybe you can take a few minutes and show them the way. Is someone you love having a bad time because they feel like they have failed in some way? Let them know failing is human and they are loved no matter what. It has to begin with you. We have to be committed to making the most of every play…because we only get so much time on the field.

Make your moments matter today…

The four-year olds - making every moment count!

PSA: Head Stuck In A Railing? You Are Not Alone!

If you are a parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle, older sibling, or friend to anyone with a small head, please take a moment for this “Public Safety Announcement” respectfully submitted to you by me. You may not believe this but… It is not only very possible, but also highly likely, that at some point, you may have to jump in to assist when someone manages to get their head stuck in a railing. I know what you’re thinking “yeah, right, I don’t really think that’s going to happen.”  Ha!  The words of the innocent, vulnerable and unsuspecting.

This past weekend, John and I enjoyed a little visit over to Jen and Joe’s cabin in the north woods. We had a great afternoon with them and the rest of their houseguests. But, of course, the highlight was being able to spend time with the grandkids. I pride myself on being a very watchful “Ya Ya” and would swear that no harm would ever come to the kids on my watch so I’m not particularly proud to relate what happened next.

I stood with my 2-year old granddaughter, on the deck overlooking the yard many feet below as we surveyed the grass for a ball that she rolled off the deck. Of course, I’m not two-feet tall so I’m able to look over the deck rail. However, Sammy was also trying to spot the ball and, as I stood there and watched, she stuck her head in between the cedar rails. Now remember, I think of myself as being fairly protective so I did hold the back of her shirt and even cautioned her “don’t let your head get stuck”. As the words were coming out of my mouth, I had a flashback to a very similar incident about 20 years ago, when I let my daughter, Mollie, get her head caught in the railing at Turtles restaurant. I guess since then I had erased the memory from my mind because it really didn’t occur to me until it was too late and Sammy was stuck. Oh no!

Immediately, my mind filled with images of her spending the next several hours stuck between two wooden posts as the adults frantically attempt to free her. She realized she was stuck…and started to scream. I realized she was stuck…and also screamed…for John (because he can fix anything.)

However, after we both screamed, I was able to regain my composure long enough to hold back her ears and gently reposition her head just enough that she could pull back through. She was crying and I felt terrible. But, thankfully, no lasting damage was done.

However, it kept coming back to me throughout the weekend – is this normal, does it happen to lots of people, or is there something about me that makes small children want to push their head through railings?

So I did what any reasonable, logical, adult woman would do.  I "googled" it.

And, would you believe that there are more than 2,000,000 results for “head stuck in railings”? Including a very horrifying video of a small boy who gets his head caught in a stone railing and had to be freed with HYDRAULIC SPREADING PLIERS. (Yikes! That sounds like the stuff of much future psychological therapy.) In comparison, my incident (OK…incidents) seemed rather small. I’m not only very grateful to have been so lucky but, in all honesty, am also a bit vindicated that I’m not alone. There is even a facebook page dedicated to the topic (which, I just had to “like” in an act of solidarity with others who have had the same experience.)

Anyway, I promised a “Public Service Announcement” so this is it. My intense Google research indicates that the head is the largest part of the body so if it can fit through a space, the rest of the body should be able to follow. (I actually dispute this research for anyone over the age of 3 since I can prove that my head is definitely NOT the largest part of my body…but consider it to be true for children in any case). Therefore, if a child gets caught, you can try to work the rest of the body through the rail (rather than pulling the head out). Now, in my situation, since we were about 20 feet off the ground - this probably wouldn’t have been the best option. So, if that is ever your situation as well, try to hold the ears to the head and very gently reposition the angle so that the child can be freed…and your own self-image as protective and reliable adult can be partially restored!

So…all’s well that ends well. My grand-daughter was just fine and after crying for a few minutes, ran off to play again. I eventually recovered as well but will always be certain to give railings a suspicious eye anytime a child is near.

I’m not a perfect grand-parent, or parent, or friend, or sister, or person who has friends with small heads. But with google, and my new “facebook friends who get their heads stuck” by my side, I will always do my best to keep watch - and if you ever find yourself stuck in a railing, you know who to call.

5 Great Reasons Why Empty Nesting Is Awesome!...I Tell Myself...

My daughter, Mollie, headed back to college yesterday and today I am celebrating my first day (once again) as an “Empty Nester”. I remember well three years ago when she left for her Freshman year, there were friends and family who I think feared for my well-being in dealing with her absence. I was proud to prove them wrong by quickly adjusting to my new life. It wasn’t that I didn’t miss Mollie…I missed her terribly. But I had the security of knowing that she was in a place that she loved, with people that were good to her, that she was doing what she wanted to do to create her own life. And if I could just make it through the school year, she would be home for the summer. I was proud of her…and I was proud of me. Today, as I welcome another school year, I started to think about all the benefits of being an Empty Nester and came up with “5 Great Reasons Why Empty Nesting Is Awesome”…

1.        Less laundry and fewer dishes to wash. Your workload changes dramatically when your child heads off to college. Suddenly, you are doing laundry and dishes for one less person meaning I will likely go from laundry duty at least twice each week to only one time a week at most. Since John and I rarely eat large meals when she is away, our dishes will amount to wine glasses and the occasional plate. Less workload means more time for me.

2.       More space in the house without all the extra college stuff. Each year when she comes home, we need to store all the necessary elements of daily survival that she requires the other 9 months of the year. This not only means additional clothes, but bedding, towels, toiletry products, TV’s, workout stuff, books, books, and more books, winter boots, winter jackets, tv stands, chairs, futons, tables…you get the picture. It is a lot of stuff and I have now reclaimed my home and my exercise room! No more excuses!

3.       I can reclaim the TV remote! Throughout the summer, I seem to find myself watching things that I would not normally watch – Criminal Minds, Carl Sagan-type Cosmos documentaries, and endless Bridezilla marathons. Now I can control the TV remote and can refocus on the shows that I like to watch. (Can't wait for the premier of "Revenge"!)

4.       My time is once again my own. With nobody else's agenda to consider (except John’s of course), I get to determine when and where I go shopping, or take a walk, or do my nails, or read a book, or anything else I want to do. My time is my own and I get to choose how to fill it.

5.       Freedom to turn up the music really loud, drink wine, and walk around wearing…anything or nothing. Everyone remembers that “my parents are out of town for the weekend”. It is remarkably similar to the joy found in empty nesting!

Yep – 5 Great Reasons Why Empty Nesting Is Awesome….at least, that’s what I tell myself. But here’s the thing. I don’t mind doing her laundry and fewer dishes really  just means fewer meals together. Having her stuff around reminds me of the person she is and I sort of miss tripping over her shoes sometimes. I can run the remote but watching TV is always more fun when she is around – we talk about what we are watching and we have lots of laughs. Yes, my time is my own…but what’s so bad about planning your day around someone else’s? I liked shopping with her, and taking walks, and talking about the books we were reading.  And Yes – I have the freedom to turn up the music really loud and walk around wearing whatever I do or don’t want to….but honestly, do I ever really do that?

Three years ago when she left for the first time, I managed pretty easily. But for some reason, I’m finding it a bit more difficult this year. I think it’s because this is her Senior year. In the past, I knew she would be at school for 9 months but then she would come home for awhile. This year, I don’t really know what the future will hold. I hope that she will be coming home again, but her life is her own and she will determine where it leads her. I don’t have the absolute certainty of more summers ahead.

But, for now, I focus on these 5 Great Reasons and I’ll keep focusing on them until I have myself convinced. I’ll enjoy a different way of living and look forward to the moments when she does come home for a visit. In the meantime, I’ll spend the time catching up on what I want to do. And, don’t worry, if I decide to pursue “Reason #5”, I’ll keep the blinds closed!

I Want More Of The "Now"...

On my way in to work, this morning, I noticed some very sad and forlorn-looking flowers.  I imagined that they are suddently realizing that summer is ending much too quickly and anticipating that soon the warm days of sunshine will be only a memory. I’m not sure that I’ve ever so fully related to how a flower feels but this morning, I realized that I’ve been having the same sense of summer’s departure and for that, I find myself just a little bit sad.

It seems to be the same way every year. Summer stretches before me like a lazy cat and I find myself daydreaming of all the wonderful ways that I will fill the days.  I anticipate BBQ’s, wine on the patio, bike rides, trips up north, time with my family, a road trip or two, floating in a lake, opening the windows to smell the fresh cut grass, parades, festivals, and all the other joys that long summer days hold.  Over the years, I’ve even gotten better at making sure that some (if not most) of these daydreams actually become reality. I make time to enjoy these little moments so as not to lose a moment that summer has to offer.

But these moments pass quickly and the days disappear, every year a bit faster.  I find myself listening to radio ads for the State Fair and though I eagerly anticipate a visit there to enjoy some deep fried pickles and a cold glass of beer, I also know that it signals the close of yet another summer.

Though I feel like I’ve appreciated and enjoyed all that summer has given me this year, I can’t help but feel selfish. I want to stamp my feet and pout that “it just isn’t enough”. I want more.  I don’t want to let go of the longer days filled with so many of the things that I love. And, even though I know on a rational level, that Fall and Winter will also bring their own kind of wonderful moments, I still find myself wanting more of the “now”.

Over the past three weeks, though I couldn’t attend them all because of my new job, there have been funerals - a former co-worker who died quite young, the mother of one of my oldest friends, and the father of my sister-in-law.  I know that my sister-in-law would say that in spite of her grief, there are things she is grateful for  - of course, to have had her Dad for many years, but also to have had an opportunity to tell him how much she loved him, to tell him what he meant to her, and to tell him a final good-bye. But we have all lost people that we love and I know that each of these people, those who passed and those who are left behind, would also say they didn't want to let go. They wanted more... more of the “now”. Whatever their beliefs for what is next, they would say that the “now” is never enough.

Unfortunately, Summer turns to Fall and Fall becomes Winter. Days go on. Our lives continue to change. We can’t hold onto the “now” forever.  There is no remedy other than to soothe the sadness as I hope I have done this summer by enjoying the moments that are given to me. Living in them fully. Telling the people I love….that I love them.  And making peace with the passing of summer days.

I hope that you are enjoying the moments of summer and looking with anticipation to all that comes next.  And, maybe I’ll see you in a couple weeks at the Fair…you can find me enjoying the moment with a beer in my hand!

Walk In Like You Own The Place....

Every time I look at this photo, I really have to laugh. This is my first day of fifth grade and I am pictured here with my friend, Katie, standing on the front step of  my parent's house - a "first day of school" tradition. We are a study in contrasts and yet we were the best of friends. 


Me: My perfectly smoothed and barretted hair, the rust colored wire framed glasses, the coordinating rust colored jumpsuit handmade with love by my mom, white patent leather shoes, a backpack over my shoulders filled with coordinating school supplies, and an extremely large lunchbox filled with a lunch....also homemade with love by my mom. 


My friend Katie: Short, natural curly hair which was a hint to her future passion for beauty trends, a funky t-shirt, corduroy pants, earth shoes, and all her school supplies stuffed into a black Hefty garbage bag. 


She is the epitome of cool and I am the epitome of... Geek...but we were friends...and we were nervous about our first day, but also so excited about the first day of school and all the opportunities in the year ahead of us.


I've had many first days....school, first days of being a wife, first days of being a mother, and, like today, first days of a new job. Yet no matter how many times you face a first day and no matter how excited you might be about what it represents, you might also feel a bit nervous or a bit apprehensive about this "first".  Last night, as I was preparing myself for my first day at a new job, I received an email from my dad and it was just what I needed to face the day. 


Dad has given me so much advice over the years and he has always been consistent in his themes - checking your car oil frequently in order to protect your engine was always a favorite message. Don't take any wooden nickles. Always remember to "hang in there".  And another, which he reminded me of last night, was relating to my nervous feelings about this new endeavor. He told me "Just smile and walk in like you own the place."  Volumes of self help and professional/personal development books have been written about what Dad summed up in just these few words. Basically, if you can at least portray an image of confidence, you may believe it yourself and as a result, others might believe it allowing you time to earn the right to hold such confidence. It was exactly what I needed to hear to give me the confidence as I approached my first day.


So, how was my first day of work at my new job?? Fabulous! The people were warm and welcoming, the office environment is casual and quiet, the work will be challenging and full of opportunity. I am thrilled about this first day and looking forward to the second day, the third day, etc. 


So are you faced with any "firsts" coming up that are making you nervous? The best advice I can share with you is just "Smile and walk in like you own the place".


ps: The following picture is me today on my first day of work. Some things haven't changed - I'm still color coordinated, wearing patent leather shoes, and carrying a bag with a few coordinating office supplies. But a few things have changed. I've celebrated and struggled through many first days. I've added a few (well-earned) wrinkles around my eyes. And my glasses are now plastic framed "cheaters". But essentially, I'm still the girl going off to fifth grade with lots of nerves but much more excitement about what lies ahead.

Looking Back and Looking Forward

Very soon I will be saying good-bye to a job and a place where I've spent the majority of my waking hours for the last 7.5 years. As my days now seem to be filled with saying good-bye, I've had a chance to think back about the last years and to consider some of what they have been to me. These haven't been easy years for me, and for many others, both personally and professionally. 

In 2006, I lost my nephew very unexpectedly. It left a scar on my heart that in some ways, I hope will never heal. I wear it proudly as it represents the love and respect that I had for a great young man, and is a reminder to me of his tremendous life. Shortly after, we also lost my brother-in-law and father-in-law within just weeks of each other. Again, they were good men who had already contributed so much, and we all felt cheated that we didn't have more time with them. Those were very difficult times and I was so thankful to be surrounded by family and friends who "had my back", who tried to understand, and who let me grieve as I needed to.

In 2008, we started to experience the downward spiral of the economy. For John and I, we were caught in a "trifecta of potential career disaster" with our livelihoods depending on the housing industry, the financial industry, and the meetings/events industry. Everyone around us was similarly impacted by the economy and though nobody is out of the woods yet (will we ever be?), I am so proud of the fact that we were able to hold on the best we could. There were some pretty scary years and I'm thankful that we were both able to maintain our careers allowing us now the opportunity to build for the future.

For myself professionally, my day-to-day work was filled with constant change and tremendous uncertainty. I was in a position where I needed to continually adapt, support and manage through change. There were some times that were very stressful but I was always thankful to have an amazing group of peers going through the same uncertainty with me who were willing to have honest and open conversations, and most importantly, always remembered how important it was to laugh occasionally in the face of crisis.

Difficult times may have marked some of these years; however, by no means are they all that I will remember. I choose to look back on these years and also remember some of the most amazing moments. 
*  Watching my daughter, Mollie, graduate from high school and go on to create her own (amazing) life in college. She will be graduating next Spring and I am so proud of what she has accomplished and so eager to watch her continue to flourish.
*  Seeing my daughter, Jennifer, graduate from college and begin building her own life with her husband. She has grown from a beautiful little girl into a beautiful woman and I'm honored each day to be able to be part of her life.
* Celebrating the births of my grandchildren. They bring me a joy that I can't even describe. When they are around, it is all about them in the best way possible - not because they demand it (well, maybe just a bit since they are only 2 years old and 6 months) - but more so, because when they around, it just seems like nothing else matters. I am thrilled to be able to focus on them and I don't want to miss a second.
* We've celebrated so many important family milestones: marriages, anniversaries, birthdays, the list goes on and on- supplying us with laughter and so many good memories.

Looking back, I realize that hard times and good times have sometimes come hand-in-hand.  Looking forward, I know that will continue to be. 

But I hope that the things that have carried me through these years (family, friends, peers) will continue to stand by my side.  That is my hope for you too. Whether you are right now in the midst of a good day or a bad day, a good year or a bad year, I want you to know that you are not alone, and that if you ever need someone who might understand....I am here.

Is This Reality?

Amber from “Teen Moms” gains celebrity for fighting with her boyfriend and waging war against him using her own little girl.  The ladies (trust me, I’m using that term very loosely) of “Housewives of New York City” hold celebrity status for spreading vicious rumors about each other, whining non-stop, sabotaging one another’s businesses, and even occasionally threatening their friends with bodily harm. The Kardashians portray a world in which the only thing that matters is image – even at the cost of true character.  Snooki and JWoww have lives focused solely on their current boyfriend or hook-up. Maybe you enjoy watching these reality shows (they are sometimes good for a laugh)... or maybe you don’t. I’m not judging these people or those who follow their lives. I’ve been known to get drawn into a marathon of “Say Yes To The Dress” and have laughed hysterically at the ridiculous, childish, downright mean, and sometimes legitimately “cray cray” antics of these women. In many cases, the worse character traits they represent, the more fun they are to watch (and the more famous they become). But whether you watch them or not, it is difficult to avoid their disturbing portrayal of today’s woman.

It all makes me wonder…in whose reality do these women truly exist?

The women of reality TV are nothing like the real women that I have known. The women I know are intelligent, strong, confident, independent, funny, and compassionate.  They are women who are focused on improving their minds through education or building their own businesses and careers. They are women who honor the responsibility of parenting and who also respect the wisdom of older generations. They are women who can create things of beauty, who bring passion to the world, and who share tremendous amounts of humor – sometimes even in the face of great pain. They support each other and encourage one another to be better. They show up when needed. These are the women that I’ve known. These are the women of my reality.

When I was growing up, TV brought me role models of what a woman can and could be. From Marlo Thomas on “That Girl” to Mary Tyler Moore – these women were smart, funny, caring, and making their lives matter. However, I think it is difficult today for young girls to find such role models on TV. And in fact, it is practically impossible for young girls today to completely avoid the outrageous stories about reality celebrity’s misadventures…and their resulting "idolized" status. It is so important for women of all ages to prove to the youngest generations what it is to be a real woman. I encourage you to take a moment today to help a young girl see what a real woman is.

It’s OK for Amber and LuAnne to live on our tv’s…as long as their behaviors don’t live in our homes.  It’s OK for us to laugh about Snooki and Kim... as long as we pay tribute to the true “reality” of women. 

We are not what the media and reality TV shows would like us to believe. We are better than that.

“Here's to Good Women…
May we be them...

May we know them…
May we raise them.”

Secure Your Own Oxygen Mask Before Helping Others...

There is much to be learned in travel. Experiencing new cultures, seeing new places, and meeting new people expands your world and your mind. However, there are also lessons to be learned in the most mundane and routine of places and activities; specifically at the airport and while in flight. From the time you enter the airport until you are safely returned to the ground once again, various signs and announcements remind us not only of some basic rules of travel but also some more important life lessons. 


1. "There will be a fee for excess baggage."  We all carry baggage from our past - good and bad. But if you allow yourself to carry too much with you, you will likely have to pay a price whether it be a financial cost or the cost of your health or mental well-being. Don't carry with you what you no longer need. Keep the good stuff and leave the bad stuff behind. It will lighten your load, allow you to move forward much easier, and eliminate the need for "excess fees". 


2. "Please maintain control of your children at all times." Admittedly, not easily done but your life's journey and that of your children will be much eased when parents stay involved, and lead the way until their children are ready to navigate their own journey. 


3. "Do not accept packages from unknown persons." Enough said. 


But perhaps the most meaningful reminder is given to us in the safety address of every flight attendant prior to take-off..."Secure your own oxygen mask before helping others."  For many of us, this can be very difficult to do. We believe that only through complete self-sacrifice can we truly help the people we love. However, in fact, the opposite is true. And it isn't arrogant or selfish to abide by this principle. It is required for survival. You must allow yourself to be healthy and cared for, in order to provide love and care for another in your life. So when the oxygen masks drop, allow yourself a moment to breathe and to take care of yourself, so you can then be there for the others who need your care. 


I guess life's lessons are all around us all the time. The trick is being open to hearing them and to making them matter in our own lives. So wherever your travels take you today, remember to be kind to yourself and to be open to the lessons around you. 


I wish you a safe journey.

Thinking About Hair...

I’ve been thinking a lot about hair lately. I’ve had hair down past the middle of my back and hair that was so short, that it was spiked on top. I’ve spent hours obsessing about what should be done with my hair and even more hours actually doing something with it. In fact, I’ve done the math and would estimate that I have likely spent close to one year of my lifetime to-date dealing with my hair. I’ve washed it, dried it, cut it, combed it, brushed it, teased it, dyed it, bleached it, highlighted it, curled it, straightened it, permed it, gelled it, moussed it, sprayed it, styled it. I know that hair may not seem like a very important issue to some of you, but others might understand and I wondered to myself recently “what is so important about hair?”

My daughter has been growing her hair for the last year in anticipation of donating it for cancer patients. Recently, she returned home from college, made the appointment and eagerly went to have her long hair cut into a trendy, shorter hairstyle. Her stylist sectioned off her hair and after checking with Mollie one last time before the cut, she chopped away more than 10 inches. There was no going back. Not that Mollie would have. She had made her decision and was looking forward to her new look, and too, she knew that she was doing something that would benefit another person. She had made her choice and she was excited to make the change.

There’s a difference though between cutting your hair by choice, and having it taken from you in any other way. To lose your hair to age, genetics, or illness is another thing entirely and might not be met with such anticipation or pride. I come from a long line of bald men whose genetics determined long before the first hair had fallen, that they would join the ranks of their ancestors. Knowing what their future holds, they have each held positive outlooks on their impending baldness. In fact one of my brothers attests “the best among us don’t have any hair!” 

Though they might not complain, their loss was beyond their control much as it is for anyone losing their hair to illness. I think it is that loss of control that would be the most difficult to deal with. We want to believe that we can control our bodies, and that we should have the final say in what happens to our bodies. But again, aging, genetics and illness can derail that belief reminding us that sometimes even those things that we think define us, can be out of our hands.

I’ve known two women in recent months who have reclaimed that power and brought it back to their control. Both are dealing with very different types of cancers but facing the same side effect to treatment, loss of their hair. And, yet both of these women, did not wait for the illness to steal their hair, but instead bravely took the first step and cut their own hair. They gathered friends and family who would understand for support. They purchased wigs or head scarves. And they courageously (and with great humor) took back control. I believe it is this same bravery and sense of power, that will allow them both to fight their illness and, more importantly, to heal.

But, I come back to my original question, “what is so important about hair”? Is it about vanity, control, sense of self? The answer is “it doesn’t need to have a reason – it just is.” When I was in college, one of my roommates was a beautician - as well as a gifted writer. She once wrote an essay about why her work was so important and the insight she provided was very valuable. She knew that when she went to work each day she had the opportunity….actually the responsibility….to help people when they are vulnerable. She wrote about a young teenage boy whose dad accompanied him to the salon and demanded his long hair be cut short…and the look of defeat in the young man’s eyes as his hair was taken from him.  She knew that, for whatever reasons, his hair was important to him. And she had the ability to make him feel “beautiful” as he sat in her chair – no matter the reason for being there.  She knew that it doesn’t matter why, but sometimes, our hair is important. And her gift was in allowing that to be so, without questioning.

So perhaps your hair is important to you or perhaps you couldn’t care less. Either way, we all have things that represent our sense of self, our sense of control, and by which we define ourselves. You don’t need to justify what it is for you. Just honor it. And, when it seems as though that “thing” might be stolen away, surround yourself with others who will understand and will help you through the moment. And find a way to reclaim the power. 

Take A Moment To See What Is Behind You...

Several years ago, I visited Grand Marais with my parents, sisters, and some of our children. For those of you who have never been to this beautiful Minnesota treasure, I only have five words for you…”Go as soon as possible”.  This tiny harbor village sitting on Lake Superior offers a most rugged beauty, that somehow manages to balance a Minnesota-type “outdoorsy-ness” with an eclectic and quirky vibe of an artist’s community. You can shop at the Ben Franklin (where they have everything from ant killer to Minnetonka Moccasins), you can enjoy dinner at the award-winning “Angry Trout”, you can sit in a colorful Adirondack to watch the lake, or you can stroll along the rocks of Artists Point on the lake.

On this particular family visit, we spent quite a long time walking on Artists Point, and of course, I had my camera at my side to capture each step along the way. As the day wore on and dusk approached, my family made their way back to our cabins for dinner (and likely some wine). However, I remained behind with the intent of trying to capture the beauty of the lighthouse as evening approached. There is an eerie feeling to standing on this narrow rock wall among the mighty Lake Superior and I hoped to get an image that would preserve this mood. I set up my tripod and took several shots as the sun set and the mosquitoes attacked. I was all alone, feeling very much at peace, and absolutely in the moment.

When I could no longer stand the bugs and felt I had a shot that I liked, I packed up all my equipment and started to make my way back along the wall. I was lost in thought and was carefully trying to watch my footing when something made me decide to turn around to look back at the lighthouse. It happened that at that very moment, an antique sailing ship was just coming into the harbor and passing next to the lighthouse. It was a "ghost ship" gliding quietly through the blue fog along the still lake. It was the eerie moment that I couldn’t even have known to hope for. Unfortunately, with my equipment packed and on my back, there was no time to successfully capture the image. I grabbed a quick shot just to prove to myself that it happened but I had missed the chance for a truly remarkable photo. I kicked myself about this all the way back to the cabin and then realized there was no sense in kicking myself anymore…but rather to take a lesson from the experience.

Sometimes you have to turn around to see what you’ve been looking for. We become so focused on moving forward, pushing ourselves through our days with planned agendas, commitments, and to-do lists. But I think it is important to occasionally stop the activity, turn around and look at what is behind you. Not with the intent of kicking yourself over past mistakes, but for the enjoyment of seeing something that you might have missed the first time around. With a different perspective, we can often times see things that weren’t evident to us or see things in a new way. And with that updated image in our mind, we can resume moving forward knowing that we have the full picture.

This is the photo I got when I turned around - you can just barely see the "ghost ship" to the left of the lighthouse.