Tag Archives: family

May24

Healthy Relationships: Real or Fiction?

Posted on 05/24/2023 by Joan T Warren

What do you think? Are healthy relationships a myth, an ideal, or achievable?

What ARE healthy relationships, anyway?

No decent novel anywhere–ever–features a protagonist with ideal relationships. Think of it. How many of us would have continued reading if Elizabeth Bennet reserved judgement and Darcy began in humility? Or if Pip and Estella spent their lives together in wedded bliss?

We all have drama. It plays with our souls, hinders us from our goals, and leaves us feeling like life is just a series of paying tolls.

(yes, silly rhyme intended)

At some point, though, we get to the point in our lives–just as in fiction–that conflict and drama forces our character to develop. We need to face our internal antagonist. Reckon with the bastard. Make the tough choice.

That point is our “Come to Jesus” point. That is when we realize our failures, internal and external, and take responsibility for them. Either we flail, wither and die, or seize the power of God to buoy us in our weakness and rise up to take the required heroic action.

Okay, you say, personal redemption. But what does that have to do with healthy relationships?

Everything, I say.

Because we simply can’t truly love until we recognize our own vulnerabilities, weaknesses and failures, take responsibility for them, and get the help we need to press forward, to develop, mature and live in humility and respect. We can’t expect healthy relationships with anyone until we develop a healthy relationship with ourselves. And a healthy relationship with ourselves is a humble one, in which the Higher Power is the One that loves, that forgives, that empowers. At least that’s the only way I’ve ever found. Maybe you have another experience?

Healthy relationships are real, but they are not always ideal. We don’t always get to see them in action, because they’re far more boring than novels and movies. They are the relationships that provide a listening ear, a loving massage for sore muscles, a meal for a hungry stomach at the end of an ordinary day, and help with the dishes. They also talk through their conflicts and commit to finding acceptable compromises and mutual support. They bear with one another, sometimes for years on end, believing and hoping and praying for what’s needed. Sometimes they never see it come to fruition, but they grow to love one another even more through it. But sometimes they part ways with irreconcilable differences and needs.

Wait, what?

Yes. Sometimes the healthiest choice for a relationship is distance. Maybe for a time, maybe for good. Because sometimes the conflict is just too difficult to resolve. Healthy relationships don’t force compatibility where there is none. They learn to accept and respect their differences, but choose to put away the practice of rubbing one another’s wounds with abrasive expectation that they meet one another’s idea of what they should be, or need them, to be.

Tell us. Does any of this resonate with you? Have you ended up choosing distance in a relationship that just didn’t work well? Have you learned to resolve conflict and mend an unhealthy relationship? Did years of separation from a loved one result in mutual growth and reconnection? Has God buoyed your flailing spirit and carried you into a healthier relationship with yourself? Share it here in the comments, please do! Or link to where you’ve blogged about such an experience so we can go read it on your spot.

If you need a little help getting started or progressing on the journey (and who doesn’t), click here for a guided journal, and let us know how it helped.

Now it’s your turn:

Dec22

“But it’s not COVID. . . “

Posted on 12/22/2021 by Joan T Warren

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This season, I’ve heard it again and again. I’ve heard myself say it. “It’s not COVID” has become the new catchphrase. It means relax. It means don’t worry. It means it’s okay if I’m here.

Or does it? Is it okay if I’m here?

One thing I wish we’d learned from the pandemic is TO AVOID SPREADING ILLNESS!!!!!

I’ve missed four holiday events and three weeks of visits with grandbabies, friends and family because someone went on with life as normal. ALL. BECAUSE. “IT” wasn’t COVID.

But maybe it WAS strep. Maybe it WAS RSV. Maybe it WAS a stomach virus. Maybe it WAS the flu. Maybe it was a nasty cold.

Whatever it was, it (along with all the rest of us who’ve been sick lately) resulted in countless hours of suffering, spread to countless people. It meant many missed days of work for many people. It meant many doctor visits, much expense in medical care and medicine. Weeks without hugs, kisses, shared meals. Okay, so maybe we didn’t die, but still, why spread it around?

Some people just don’t get it.

We know how to avoid spreading illness.

Symptoms = Stay away

Yes, your family loves you and wants to see you. But the truth is, they’d rather not get what you have.

So there it is. No sugar coated, emotionally supportive, poetry-laden, relational or spiritual message today. Just a little vent and some sage advice:

Keep that bug to yourself.

Make it your mission to stop that bug at you.

That’s all for today. Oh, and one more thing. I wish you and yours a Merry Christmas and a Healthy New Year. I really do. Achoo.

Joan

Aug2

Flippin’ Fun Over Fifty!

Posted on 08/02/2016 by Joan T Warren

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Lake Chatuge (2)

We usually visit family for vacation, either at Lake Keowee, South Carolina or to the Blue Ridge mountains near Asheville, North Carolina. This year, though, procrastination combined forces with many unsuccessful, indecisive HomeAway and VRBO searches, leaving us without a viable option near family.

Well, to be honest, there were places left to rent, but I’m pretty picky when it comes to the few days a year I get to really relax and refresh from my busy life. I want fresh, clear water to swim and boat in. I want magnificent short and long range mountain views. I want comfy furniture with room to spread out, a porch with a view and plenty of windows for sunlight to stream in. I want a place that’s clean and up-to-date, not a moldy shower, sunken-bed and cob-web corner kind of place. Like I said, picky.

We end up a short two hours from family, in Hiawassee, Georgia. Amazing place. So amazing that I hesitate to write about it–for fear the world hears and rushes in! Of course, with only 512 Wonderful WordPress Followers, I calm myself on that question. The name “Hiawassee” comes from the Cherokee word “Ayuhwasi,” (meadow) but some say it is named for a Native American princess. Hiawassee is a picturesque small town in the mountains at the southern end of Lake Chatuge. The lake is spring-fed, a reservoir with 132 miles of mountainous shoreline. Within thirty minutes of Helen,

Anna Ruby Falls

Anna Ruby Falls, Blairsville and Brasstown Bald, we have our choice of short day trips to round out our lazy days on the lake. Our place, a townhouse we rent, is steps from the lake. It has all of the amenities on my “picky-list,” plus. The owner leaves fresh flowers in every room. There is a swing on the balcony overlooking the lake and mountains. The dock offers a swimming area complete with a ladder so I might properly and safely climb into the water–and some shallow areas where my granddaughter digs her toes in to find tiny mussels.

View from Brasstown Bald, highest elevation in Georgia

As I relax, I take care to preserve the good feeling. For those of you who follow my posts, you know I’m young at heart. My body doesn’t always share that sentiment. With respect for the old gal’s body, I spend many hours just loafing in the lake on an inflatable lounge chair, enjoying the view–and my granddaughter’s antics. I remember to squeeze my glutes (as my physical therapist emphasizes) with each step of our two hikes, one up the shady trail by Anna Ruby Falls and the other on the steep pathway to the highest point in Georgia (Brasstown Bald). I am doing fine and don’t want to spoil it by overdoing things and waking up the boogie monster. But the wooden ledge on the edge of the dock, resting a few inches below the clean water, keeps calling me.

“Flip!” the ledge calls.

I look away. Such a lovely view. So relaxing. . .

“Come on, do it!”

Is it the ledge, or the child inside, or are they conspiring together?

It is the last full day on the lake. “If it hurts,” that kid inside my head reasons, “well, it’s not like you’ve ruined the whole vacation.”

“I’m scared, though. I don’t want to hurt,” the fifty-eight year-old replies.

“It’s water.”

“Hmmm, so it is.” I have no argument. I really want to do it.

So I make a big production (If I cramp up or get dizzy, someone will rescue me, right?).

“Announcing, one and all, the famous flip of the fifty-something fibro-woman!”

My granddaughter stops to look and laughs. Before long the others have come to attention too.

And I do it!

Jumping forward and tucking my head, body, legs. . . over I go. I plunge into the cool support of Lake Chatuge. Muscle memory kicks in. My arms and legs know what to do. I feel the gentle pressure of water on every inch of my body without the support of a float. I feel it help me rise to the surface. My fist goes up in the air and I shout–no, woop–with victory!

And it doesn’t hurt!

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Everyone cheers. Then they seem to want to go back to what they were doing. They obviously don’t realize the courage it took, the incredibly wonderful feeling it brings, this flop-of-a-flip-that-looked-more-like-a-somersault-than-a-dive-but-is-so-great-to-me! So I start clapping rhythmically and calling my step-daughter’s name, over and over again. My granddaughter joins in the call for “Mom-mie! Mom-mie! Mom-mie!”

She complies, leaving the comfort of her water lounger, and we all cheer, and before long we are all doing silly jumps and dives and other antics from the dock, cheering one another on.

And it doesn’t hurt!

And I don’t get dizzy or lose muscle control or cramp or drown or die!

Ha!

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Vacation is over, now, and as I write this memoir, I lay in bed nursing a strained back that I didn’t get on vacation. This one came as I reached across the bed grappling for the remote control in the dark. Who knew watching TV in bed could be so dangerous? But it will get better. I won’t give up, or give in. I will take good care of myself and get back to functioning soon.

Maybe next time I’ll be more apt to jump in the lake and less apt to reach for the remote!

This summer won’t be remembered for this present back ache. This shall be the summer of the flippin-fun-fifty-eight-year-old!

Thank you, Lord. Thank you, Hiawassee. Thank you, Lake Chatuge. Thank you, Appalachian Mountains. Thank you, family. Thank you, body, soul and spirit. Thank you, Hanz Tabora at Access Physical Therapy in Jacksonville, Florida: the best physical therapist EVER.

Flippin’ Fun to you,

©Joan T. Warren

Jan25

How About Another?

Posted on 01/25/2016 by Joan T Warren

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It’s not like I don’t have plenty to do. Actually, I live in Plenty to Do. I know everyone there.

In the center of Plenty to Do lives a tiny little voice named ‘But.’

But, and her best friends, ‘Lemme,’ ‘Justdothis,’ and ‘Onemorething’ have been nagging me quite a lot lately. In fact, they kept me up too late several times this past week, looking at photos to crop, laughing over background colors and arguing over which WordPress theme would let them get their job done best.

I finally got fed up with their noise and decided, “Why not? Might as well have another!” I went on over to help them out today. I missed lunch and some paperwork of my own, but now maybe I’ll get some sleep.

At least until it’s time to get the next post ready!

Want to see what these gals from the land of Plenty to Do came up with? It’s a brand new blog, a forum for interacting about health, functioning well, recovering from injuries and disabilities, raising children with special needs, and the like. It’s a forum for people–patients, families, therapists, teachers, anyone interested in these things. Here, I’ll be writing more about what I know: Occupational Therapy. Here, I’ll be hosting other bloggers who are therapists, health care professionals, parents of kids with special needs, adults with spouses or parents with special needs, and such! There will be interviews, re-blogs and links to great resources.

Sound good?

Then come on, join the fun!

OT Interactions

Sincerely,

Joan T Warren

Oct27

How to Write With a Whip

Posted on 10/27/2015 by Joan T Warren

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Ever get caught up in frustration that there’s just not enough time to write?

Between working full time, homemaking, investigating information we need to write, and a few other significant endeavors, like parenting, many aspiring writers feel they’ve been “tied to the whipping post!”

(Here you may imagine I inserted a video of the Allman Brothes playing the song, “Whipping Post.” Or, you can go to You Tube yourself, leaving me no copyright issues.)

Tired of feeling whipped? Let’s take that WHIP in hand, turn it around, and get cracking!

First, let’s clearly identify the factors that WHIP us, ie., detract from our writing time:

W is for working! While some writers are fully financed by someone or something, most of us have to work full-time to keep that ever-so-important roof over our heads and food in our bellies! Read the rest of this entry →

Feb25

Take Care of Your Heart

Posted on 02/25/2015 by Joan T Warren

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All this talk about compassion and heart! Now it’s time for a quick word about your physical heart.

Click to learn more

February is American Heart Month! How can we reach out to the world with compassionate hearts if our tickers aren’t working well?

Here are a few tips from Healthiest Weight Florida Initiative, to achieve and maintain a healthy heart:

Maintain a healthy weight
Quit smoking
Be active at least 30–60 minutes a day
Make an appointment for an annual check up
Monitor existing health conditions such as diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol
Practice effective stress management
Reduce salt intake (sodium)
Eat at least five to seven servings of fruits and vegetables every day

I hope you’ll join me, keep tickin’ and spread the good thoughts!

Beating Heart

©Joan T Warren

http://www.floridahealth.gov/newsroom/2015/02/020315-heart-health.html

http://www.healthiestweightflorida.com/

Feb20

Compassion: Left and Right

Posted on 02/20/2015 by Joan T Warren

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Marge lay exhausted at the end of a long day, her eyes puffy from too many tears. It has been an emotional day for her. As she lay on the sofa catching a quick break, an ear out for when her son’s trach needs suctioning, she becomes acutely aware that Read the rest of this entry →

Jan13

In a Blink

Posted on 01/13/2015 by Joan T Warren

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She came into this world

and they wrapped her in pink:

A present from God,

with a smile and a wink–

Read the rest of this entry →

Oct20

Are you akin to kindness?

Posted on 10/20/2014 by Joan T Warren

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It’s not news; as far as history traces our interactions, we humans have had troubles with one another. We get ourselves tied in knots worrying about the latest news: a new terrorist group here, a gang murder there, racist violence and religious discord– just about everywhere. So-called civilized or savage, we are humans, and we have too often let our worst sides get the best of us.

I heard once that for every negative statement we give to another, that person needs at least ten positives to recover! I don’t know how much scientific research went into that number, but I do know this:

We flourish in an atmosphere of kindness.

Kindness is more than holding your breath while you give the homeless man a quarter. It is more than holding your tongue when you want to correct your coworker’s frequent mistakes. It’s even more than a side-hug and a cheek-kiss greeting when you’d rather not be there at all.

Read the rest of this entry →

Sep20

Dark Chocolate to my Soul

Posted on 09/20/2014 by Joan T Warren

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First smile from my baby~

Fingertips at my back~

Purple hued sunsets o’er mountain or sea.

A word fitly spoken~

Laughing toddlers at play~

Secret gifts sent before there’s a plea.

Read the rest of this entry →

Sep6

But I Don’t Wanna Go On a ‘Bencher!

Posted on 09/06/2014 by Joan T Warren

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Adventure.

There’s so much in a word. What’s your take on the word adventure?

Some say it’s about taking a risk, trying something new, or exploring new territory.

Some say life’s an adventure.

Here’s a little story, based on a real episode, involving adventure:

They passed the turn toward home, and Missy, though only three, knew they had missed it. “Wher’re we goin’?”

“We’re going on an adventure!,” Nana proffered, in her most excited tone.

“But I don’t wanna go on a ‘bencher! I want my mommy!”

Nana drew in a breath and considered her response. She knew the meltdown would only last a few minutes, but it broke her heart every time. She knew, by now–by the tone of Missy’s voice, the rate of her breathing, the look on her face–whether she was ready for an explanation, or comfort, or distraction, or whether words would only make it worse. This time she chose a brief explanation, followed by a time of respite for Missy to regain her composure. When the time was right, Nana brought in the highlights of the upcoming trip.

“We’re going to Tampa, to see Cousin Stevie, play in the pool, and visit a place with lots of pretty fish to see!”

“Stevie? Yay, Stevie! I miss him so much!”

Missy cheered up. The rest of the trip she counted cows and horses on the hillside, “loved” her new bedroom, devoured popsicles at the pool and hung on Cousin Stevie all through the exciting trip through the aquarium. It ended too soon.

Along the way

One Cool Chick

Checking out the Giant Mr. Grouper with "Cousin Stevie"

Checking out Giant Mr. Grouper with “Cousin Stevie”

On the ride back home, Missy’s love for adventure blossomed.

“I like Tampa. When can we go on another ‘bencher, Nana?”

Lookin’ for Adventure!

No matter the level of risk involved, all adventures are a little scary. We can’t always have our mommies with us. Sometimes we get stuck and afraid of stepping out. Sometimes outside forces launch us on adventures we’re not so sure we want to go on. When this happens, we can take time to process it, like Missy did, and end up embracing the experience. If we look for the good, there’s always something to gain. . . eventually.

With risks weighed against benefits, we can usually make good choices about our adventures in life.

That’s my take on adventures for today. What’s yours? Have you a little story of adventure you can share? It’s your turn now!

Joan T. Warren

With appreciation for this week’s WordPress Prompt.

Aug24

Has Anybody?

Posted on 08/24/2014 by Joan T Warren

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“Has anybody told you today?”

“Well, just in case, I’m telling you again: I love you.”

It was his trademark; his brand, calling card. If you saw Mickey, you could count on hearing these words. You could count on a hug and a smile. If not from him directly, from many around you, as he facilitated groups and classes to “get up, tell someone you love them, hug a neck.”

He was the Cowboy Preacher. The Drunk Preacher, some called him. He’d chuckle. I doubt he’d ever had a drop of alcohol in his life.

He sought out drunks, with a purpose, to share God’s amazing love. Read the rest of this entry →

Jun5

I Could Have Built a. . .

Posted on 06/05/2014 by Joan T Warren

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Image Borrowed: http://hautemealz.com/2013/02/12/secret-4-happiness-is-a-warm-plate/

I could have built a …
Rainbow
Of the neatly folded laundry,
Or a tower made of
Dishes stacked in gleaming
Rows and columns.

I could have built a
Mansion,
Straightened cupboards,
Cleaned out closets–
Put toilet paper in the bathrooms,
Straighten towels and changed the lightbulbs.

I could have built a
Grand museum–
Carved a sculpture, worked the clay,
Or a masterpiece on canvas
Wielded paintbrush,
Seized the day!

I could have built a
Mighty enterprise,
Just by tackling my desk-work!
Or created global networks
On my twitter, blog or Facebook.

I could have built a
Perfect woman~
Washed my hair
And put on makeup. . .
Or at least a fitness model,
Walked the block and practiced yoga.

I could have built a
Three-course dinner,
Made the kitchen counters glow;
Or at least brewed gourmet coffee–
Drizzled caramel on the top,
Put my feet up, watched my show.

But you came in through the door, dear;
With your face so sweetly shining,
And your love so pure and true–
All I did was spend this hour
Hanging out, enjoying you.

Joan T. Warren

Many thanks to Girl in the Hat for a very creative weekly writing challenge: to write a list, then let it flow and change as it desired. This poem began as a list of things I put off to respond to blog writing challenges! It morphed nicely into something rather fun, uplifting, and, hopefully, something we can all relate to. To see other writers’ responses to her challenge, visit WordPress’ Weekly Writing Challenge.

May11

On the Move: Church for Introverts

Posted on 05/11/2014 by Joan T Warren

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Fading fast, treasured steps and memories.
Church for introverts.

For WordPress Weekly Photo challenge,On the Move

Joan T. Warren
Randy’s iphone

May11

On the Move: Kids and Water, Unstoppable

Posted on 05/11/2014 by Joan T Warren

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Two unstoppable forces that are always a part of my days: kids and water.

For WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge, On the Move

Taken with my iphone.
Joan T. Warren

May2

Posted on 05/02/2014 by Joan T Warren

Aside

Reblogging an older post, just because I still feel it. Click to read. . .

I Feel Cherokee.

I Feel Cherokee

Apr30

More Than Words

Posted on 04/30/2014 by Joan T Warren

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Pen in hand, released to the floor; chicken scratch.

“I. . . I. . . I. . ,” sputtered Vera, summoning strength from the tips of her toes and fingers, as they squeezed the foot and armrest of her wheelchair. A polite and apologetic smile took backstage. Vera forced her thoughts and intentions out of her eyes to the kind woman sitting across from her, giving her all.

“It’s okay, I know you’re in there. I know you’re having a hard time getting your words out. I’ll try to ask questions so you can nod yes or no.”

Vera settled and wiped a tear. She nodded yes.

Tessa breathed in, out, and laid her clipboard aside. This occupational therapy evaluation won’t be as easy as checking the boxes. None are. She quickly regrouped. “Is it okay with you if I ask your husband about things that are important to you so I can make our therapy sessions as meaningful as possible?”

Vera shook her head no. Then her eyes opened widely, she reached for Tessa’s hand and nodded yes. “Yah. . . no. . . . yes.” Eyebrows burrowed in at the sides and raised in the center, she looked pleadingly at Tessa, as if to say, “I can’t even control my yes and no answers!”

It was a left cerebral infarction with expressive aphasia. Tessa understood Vera’s condition from the textbook. Vera’s stroke spared her ability to understand language, but blocked her ability to speak–and to write. Now it was time to understand it from the eyes of a dear woman looking pleadingly to her for help.

Vera understood her condition from the textbook as well. Forty-five years a speech-language pathologist, now it was her time to understand it from the inside, reaching out.

Photo borrowed from gradydoctor.com

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In honor of National Occupational Therapy Month and in response to WordPress’ Weekly Writing Challenge (Flash Fiction: 300 words or less)

Joan T Warren

Mar26

We’re All Sick of “Don’t,” So. . .

Posted on 03/26/2014 by Joan T Warren

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Don’t tell me another “Don’t,” –please?

We’ve all heard “Don’t” enough. We’re numb.

We’re even numb to the “Don’t” messages that matter.

Don’t–I Feel Numb by U2

For example, almost every day we hear a commercial reminding us:

Don’t text and drive.

“It can wait,” they say.

Today I counted the number of oncoming cars whose drivers were looking down as they passed me. What would you guess? One? Two? No, in one mile, seven of ten drivers were texting instead of heeding oncoming traffic! Seven. Of ten. The mile included a school zone, a bridge and a playground entrance.

So, yes, I’d say we need those public service reminders. Let’s not be numb-skulls:

Don’t text and drive. It can wait.

Wait,

Don’t leave yet!

There is something else we technology-driven (pun intended) folk do these days with equally disastrous potential. It’s something we readily take for granted because we do it so much. It’s something we do so much because nothing bad happened the other times we did it.

Or, did it?

Little Johnny is excited to show Mommy his art project from school. He made it for her. “Just a sec, hon,” Mommy says,” as Johnny pushes his paper between her face and her phone. “Wait, I said,” as she takes it and lays it on the counter, quickly returning to her phone. Mommy doesn’t notice as John-John slumps off, shoulders curled forward, feet shuffling, lower lip pouting. “Stupid art project,” he sulks.

Betsy is thrilled to see Daddy come to her swim meet today. She’s been doing well; coach says she’s most-improved this season. Perched on the starting platform, she glances at Daddy to see his proud, encouraging look. He is looking down–his fingers steadily tapping away. Betsy misses her start. She fights down the lane, checks her time, checks her Dad. He missed it. He is still texting.

Baby Leila crawls across the floor and pulls up to stand at the coffee table. With brave anticipation, she lets go for the first time and takes a step toward Mommy. Mommy doesn’t see. She is texting Gramma, sending pictures from this morning’s breakfast, yogurt all over Leila’s head.

We need yet one more public service ad:

Don’t text and parent.

Babies don’t wait. They grow up quickly, with or without us.

Photos.com

©Joan T Warren

Many thanks to Jordan of Bushel and a Peck, for her post, which spurred this thought.

P. S. The author is also preaching to herself.

Resophonic Forever

Posted on 02/24/2014 by Joan T Warren

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I missed the chance to see him again. My Uncle Mike.

I had begun to loosely plan a family reunion that year. Seven hundred miles, other family problems, no vacation time–swoop, the hawk clasps prey in its talons.

I suppose I have no right to say how much I miss them–my aunts, uncles, cousins–when it is of my own doing. I chose to move away. Now, thirty years later, my heart doesn’t care if it has the right. I miss them!

I love my Uncle Mike. Not because we were so close; we weren’t. We weren’t close in a pal-around sort of way. I hadn’t even seen him since 1993, when he helped carry my mom’s casket. We spoke on the phone, well, maybe never. We emailed and Facebooked a little.

Our closeness was in mind and heart. A gentle soul, humble, quiet, unassuming, was he. His eyes twinkled; glorious wrinkles at the edges–evidence of many happy times. His smile turned the edges of his lips down a bit instead of up, especially when he felt a bit embarrassed by adulation. His hard drink was milk. Mike was mild-mannered and humorous, with a self-deprecating style–not bound by fear or low self-esteem, simply unfettered by pride.

Courtesy Matt McClain/Washington Post

If any man had reason to be proud, it was he. A self-taught musician, he earned the respect of musicians world-wide. He not only mastered the instruments he set his hand to, but he innovated their use and design, especially that of his beloved resophonic guitar. His Auldridge tone and style are cited as the turning point in the sound of the resophonic guitar overall. Earning numerous awards throughout his life, including a Grammy for Best Bluegrass Album (1994) and a National Heritage Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts (2012), Mike was involved in mentoring many famous artists and playing with well-knowns like Emmy Lou Harris, Linda Ronstadt and Lyle Lovett.

He was a man who honored family commitments. In his earlier years as a musician, he kept his day job. Forsaking the call of Nashville with its star-making machinery (to borrow a line from Carly Simon), he chose to stay in the Washington, D.C. area, where he created a stable home for his family. He kept it simple. He kept life balanced despite his remarkable talent, inspirational creativity and incredible productivity. His band name reflected that choice: “The Seldom Scene.” He kept his head.

When I was little, uncles Mike and Dave entertained our family with their music in the living room, in the yard, at the park. No one knew what talent he carried back then. He was just Uncle Mike. He brought home a new toy one day, a pedal steel. He let us kids see it, touch it. “The difference between men and boys,” he grinned, “is the price of their toys.” I figured he felt about the same when I saw him with that Z-28 several years later. That was about the extent of his extravagance, though. Well, he might have paid someone to iron those jeans of his, I’m not sure about that.

As I’ve read what others said about Uncle Mike, I realize I miss not only the Uncle Mike of my childhood, but also a man of great import.

Uncle Mike, you have done well. You influenced many for good. This gives me heart-strength, encouragement, direction. Your nature and your accomplishments together are a star on our family tree.

You resonate beyond your years.

Here’s to you, Uncle Mike. You are gone too soon. May we catch up soon–and sit around God’s living room, listening to your heavenly strings, sharing our stories and a glass of cold milk.

Love,

Joan