Irreverent Eloquence

        When I was younger, I was a writer. Well, in reality, I was an emotional rollercoaster of a teenager who thought she had a lot to say to the world. And I was bound and determined to share it, all those words splashed on paper that would mean something...some drama, some relevant substance to challenge the mind. I had a goal of being published by the ripe old age of 26. Then life came along. High school was over and college too, I married and moved, started a career and a family...and all that passion for writing faded. Or perhaps got pushed to the background to the business and busy-ness of life.        If you're reading this you can tell though, that I'm back to writing. A semblance of that emotional teenager has reared its ugly head (no pimples this time!) and I'm indulging her for a while. I've dusted off a few of the old journals, opened a notebook or two, dated from over a decade ago- which feels like a century now. My mainstay back ...

An Open Letter to My Son (Eulogy from his memorial service 2/15/2014) Oh Griffin...how to put on a page a lifetime of words to say to you? All the important life lessons you will never hear? “Are you bleeding? No? Then you’re fine!”, “Don’t lick your sister; you are not a puppy!” The thousands of Uh-Uhs and No-Nos and the millions of “I love you’s?”        I wanted to write my dreams for you, our hopes for your future, never to be realized...but it is heartbreaking to think of all those things long gone.Instead, I should tell you what I remember and loved of our time together, hoping you loved it too!        I guess you could say that I knew you when you were a twinkle in your daddy’s eye. We wondered if it was you when we were expecting all your sisters...but you waited! More than 6 years it took to see your beautiful face, and I’ll tell you, it was quite a few twinkles in your daddy’s eye too! :)        But when we found...

What is my Blogger Voice you ask?       That is a great question. I didn't really know it existed until recently myself. Until I was sitting in mixed company, blending two worlds and telling my life-changing story. My "Blogger Voice" came to the surface and I was called out for it.        You see, I gambled large on life and lost. And in the tumult of that loss, I have been worried about losing my voice as well. That passion and driving force that is my voice, that always spills out of me, sharing (and over- sharing) like verbal diarrhea sometimes, in its proliferative quantity.        In processing our loss I began to wrap my mind around the details and formulate the story of the night that changed my life and possibly my voice. My mixed company sat near, rapt and listening: my husband quiet in the corner armchair and two of my dearest coworkers and friends perched across the room. I found myself in an odd place on my couch, not...