Today I thought I’d share one of my “Tiny Stories” about one of the four-year-olds I teach. It was one of those days when the student — becomes the teacher. 

As I dismissed my students from Spanish class, I had each child say “Gracias, Señora” before they lined up – an “exit ticket” type dismissal for four-year-olds. Florence, who had mentally and physically checked out of the lesson sometime during our song about an owl that shush’s everyone so they can sleep at night, had had enough of the nocturnal bird and buried her head in her lap, peeking over her tiny hand. 

Thinking perhaps she missed the “exit” words during her siesta, I gently reminded her, “You just need to say, “Gracias, Señora” and then go line up. And just like that, she flopped to the floor like a limp inflatable balloon guy at a car dealership. She peered up with a seemingly forced face of exhaustion, and said, “I am WAY too tired to do that…AND! (she paused dramatically as we locked eyes), “My ears are magic and I turned them off… so I don’t know what you said.” 

As a big David Blain and card trick fan, I loved magic – so I dug deeper.

“Magic ears?” I queried. “Yes, magic ears.” She repeated glancing up at my run-of-the-mill ears with a touch of disgust. “They don’t work at school” she added. Always thinking I could crack the kid code and figure out what makes them tick, I tried it all, “What would your mom want you to do? Should we call and ask?” to which she replied, “Yes, let’s call her. I’d like to go home and play with my little sister” Strike One. 

Then I jumped into my four-year-old self and told her my ears were magic too and they can only hear the word, “Gracias”. As she stoically sat criss-cross-applesauce looking at me she started mouthing the words, “I don’t know what to say” and then slowly and barely audible as if testing out my own magic ears, she whispered, “Gracias”. We quickly stood up and walked back to class. 

On our walk down the hall, I said, “Florence, as you left the room, your remote control for your magic ears fell out of your pocket, but I’ll look for it for you.” She glanced up and said matter of factly, “No, my fairy holds the remote for my magic ears and she has it!” 

And just like that Florence made me a believer in magic ears. It just goes to show, no matter the age, we are all going to choose to listen…or not. 

What I learned:

We all do it. During a conversation, we half listen, thinking more about what sage wisdom we can inject into the discussion, or we glance down at our phones because clearly the weather app or tik tok can’t be left alone for a minute.

I heard a story the other day about a wife who for the first time in several years of marriage listened, really listened to her husband tell the story of when they met. She said she typically interrupted him with her rendition of their first meet-up, but when she heard his version of the story, it helped her realize special moments she missed or had forgotten. Moreover, from that moment on, she made a vow to herself to listen to others. Truly listen.

So maybe Florence wasn’t into listening on that rainy Wednesday, but she was into creating and imagining and messing with her teacher and for that, I say…thanks for “not listening” Florence, you taught me a lot.

Thanks for joining me!

Lucretia

My son’s first summer baseball game was last week. In a big boisterous voice edged with kindness, the umpire yelled at the start of the game “Good Afternoon boys. Enjoy your summer on the baseball field!” Perfect message. It was a warm, windy, beautiful day. In fact, I may or may not have dozed off for a minute as I pictured the lazy days of summer approaching. But just how lazy should summer be?

This brings me to my campaign to bring back D.E.A.R (Drop Everything And Read) time —- with a twist!

History

In the 70’s I loved SSR Sustained Silent Reading time when I was in grade school. It was a chance for me to take a break from classwork, and escape into the world where young Encyclopedia Brown unraveled complex mysteries in his garage… you know one of those stories where kids are more observant and adept at problem-solving than the adults surrounding them? 

But honestly, in today’s world, it’s hard to picture any of us doing anything sustained or silent without a device in our hands. Maybe you can relate.

On sustained…Currently, classrooms use the term “D.E.A.R Time”. A specific portion of time during the school day when kids sit quietly and read. Most programs include the teacher also participating in the scenario…a nod to modeling good behavior.

On silence…I remember when the kids were younger, if I heard absolute silence, I knew something was awry. Walls were covered in Sharpie; young, wispy hair was being cut; or sugar was discovered. Now the silence in our home means a screen is being coddled and cared for as much as dolls used to be nurtured and matchbox cars coveted and lined up for races. Yes, devices are the new play dough, so colorful and interactive needing only simple swipes and pokes.

Summer Time Device Diversion…

Years ago I would have had lists of chores posted on the fridge by the last day of school. I would then deliver my annual speech to a very inattentive audience expressing how important it was to contribute to the upkeep of our home during the summer months, to read, read, read, and play, play, play. Outside! Mind you, none of the chores were earth-shattering. No chickens to feed or gardens to tend. The jobs were entry-level: clean bathrooms, change sheets, walk dogs, and make dinner once a week. I wanted them to be busy, to appreciate the work that goes into making a house a home, to learn to prepare a meal, and maybe do a load of laundry. I even designed reward coupons for completing their jobs, and created “Chore Bingo” with prizes, and advertised screen time incentives like “5 minutes of extra IPad time”. One year I even purchased the “Summer Workbooks” sold at Barnes and Noble only to sell them the next year at a yard sale with a sign shamelessly reading “Never Used!”

We decided 8th grade was the time for phone disbursement in our home — I know very Ma and Pa Ingalls – trust me the kids appealed our decision and it was overruled. Before single-ownership phones existed in our home, our kids were somewhat driven to finish their chores. Yet as their ages waxed, their motivation waned. It was time for them to work.

This summer I am grateful our kids have jobs, however, I am constantly worried about the social media intake they will turn to during their downtime. And they are not alone. As soon as there is a lull — a moment to sit on a comfy chair or lean on a fence while watching a ball game or even stand in line at Kroger, we pull out our phones and begin the scroll. I’m guilty.

Even as passengers in cars. Personally, I was raised to be an annoying yet helpful backseat driver and foolishly, I thought I raised a few myself- but when I drive, I’m on my own, with no extra people to yell “It’s clear to the left, Look at those cows! Police car ahead!”

That brings me back to the new and improved D.E.A.R time:

In an effort to curtail the use of devices in our home, we (when I say we, it means anyone who brought our kids into the world) decided to have a new DEAR time. As you’ll notice, we have cleverly replaced the E for “everything” with “electronics”. Here are some of our new ideas for DROP ELECTRONICS AND…

1. Drop Electronics and Read: go old school sit and read – sustained and silent.
2. Drop Electronics and Reboot: find an exercise for the family you can all do together. Make it under 5-10 minutes to keep everyone interested.
3. Drop Electronics and Run: whether it’s 10 minutes or more, just run. Exercise will make your day happier and if you pass something on your run you may have a good story to share.
4. Drop Electronics and Rest: take a power nap-ample sleep is as crucial to good health as exercise and good nutrition.
5. Drop Electronics and Recycle: clear out your closet and other extra “stuff” you have that can be donated to those in need – it’s cathartic.
6. Drop Electronics and Reorganize: “For every minute spent in organizing, an hour is earned.”― Benjamin Franklin
7. Drop Electronics and Reacquaint: Get together with friends – go out for coffee or a walk. We all need connections – take the time to call someone and make plans.
8. Drop Electronics and Resist the temptation to turn to your device for constant output.

What I learned:

I can preach about screen time all I want to my kids, but they are older – adults really. Heck, they didn’t watch TV until they were nine – I remember Cora coming home from kindergarten one day talking about a “Little Mermaid” they saw in a movie on the TV hanging from the ceiling in their classroom. Another time she came home crying about a pig commercial shown during the Superbowl. “Everyone was talking about it at school! Everyone knew about the pig but me!” Holy therapy! Sign us up. I tell these stories to the students I teach today and they are amazed and utterly appalled.

But as parents, we make decisions and regret about 75% of them but forge ahead weather be damned. I continue to preach to my children, a lot. The majority of what I impart soars off into the atmosphere much like a balloon that a child has let slip out of his hand floating off into the great beyond. Nonetheless, I proclaim my word, not Thy word, but whatever the topic of the day is, from kindness to nutrition to using devices. Mostly, I pray they are happy whether they are scrolling, socializing, or just surviving in this world of ours.

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia Cahill

I’ve heard kids spell love——-T–I–M–E.

Every day in backyards, schools, and playgrounds the words “Look!” “Watch this!” bounce through the air carrying the excitement kids get when they MUST have a witness to watch them succeed — just one set of eyes to see them weave through the monkey bars, jump off the swing, do their first back walk over, hurtle over anything or make the shot.

In fifth grade, I was unstoppable on the monkey bars. My signature move was the “cherry drop”. It was risky and exhilarating, and I did it nearly a zillion times. Here’s how it works. Pull yourself up to the bar. Sit and balance on the top, point your hands straight out in front of you, fall backward quickly, hook your knees to the bar, flip your body over, and land in front of the bar in the soft, warm New Mexico dirt (at my elementary school anyway). That’s a cherry drop. 

Fast forward to today and simply stepping off a curb feels like Everest with my old ankles, so the thought of purposely falling backward while on a small metal bar and landing in the dirt is completely terrifying. Although – when you’re a kid, the feeling of landing such a feat – sticks with you forever. 

But what left an imprint on my 10-year-old heart more than anything else, was having someone there to watch me land – or not land – the flip. Someone who listened when I said, “Look!!” …someone who swiveled around caught my eye and took TIME to be there…someone who was awed that I even tried.

Isn’t that how childhood and — well — life works? Someone stops, wedges out of a moment of their day, and listens to you, believes you can, or helps you get back up and try again. 

Maybe it’s a parent, who shows up locked and loaded with love, support, optimism, and tons of faith that we can do IT. 

Whatever IT is…

They believe we can…then we believe and suddenly – little tiny seeds like on a dandelion float through the air planting confidence, a connection, and a conversation for later. I recently read there is an increase in the number of children needing speech therapy due to the lack of interaction between the child and the parent. Imagine that, this one free commodity we have called time slips away and our focus bends toward money, status, and stuff rather than being truly and sincerely present for our kids and families.

What I learned:

I can still remember when the kids would play out back all day and if my attention was scarce, inevitably I would turn my head and see my son’s eyes peering at me through the window…waiting. If I missed the shot, the goal, the jump, or the flip, there was always an instant replay, either spoken or delivered in slow motion. Thankfully, like in most sports today, the replay counts for inattentive parents.

I know how easy it is to get steamrolled by the day-to-day craziness of life – but there is nothing as priceless as simply watching your child play or better yet, tossing the football or slamming the Hungry Hungry Hippo yourself. Our kids are older, but there are still insane bike jumps to watch, swim times to marvel at, amazing trick shots to video, and brave back flips I’m summoned to watch.

It might be a three-point shot or a monkey bar miracle but some kid somewhere is pining for their moment to be seen.

So right now. Just stop. Stop swiping and texting, streaming or tweeting, cooking or cleaning. Just stop and watch him take the shot. Watch the look on his face when he does it. Watch him keep trying when he doesn’t. Watch now because too soon he’ll stop asking.

My apologies for the late post on this tax day.

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia

#5 Motherhood — the moments, the madness, the profound joy, the heart-breaking sorrows

Last week, my son’s baseball team won in extra innings. We had a runner on third base, and one of our players hit a ball to right field. As the ball rose and fell, the right fielder missed the ball, and our runner scored. As happiness ensues for one team, the other packs up. I was elated for our team, but my mind shifted to the kid who missed the ball and…his mom.

After the game, my son said, “You felt bad for that mom didn’t you?” “Fine. Yes, I did…it’s empathy” (Naming it something made me feel better). I know how it plays out – son misses ball – team loses game – blame is assigned, emotions run wild and the ride home is painful!

But whose emotions are in the balance? The player, the coach, the parent? Or “D – ALL OF THE ABOVE”.

HERE’S ANOTHER EXAMPLE –

Friday night we went out to a local pizza place, sat in our regular booth, chatted, and stared up at the outdated TVs watching any team play basketball. It’s March Madness. With so many teams playing, stakes and drama are high – it’s truly a basketball binge-watching dream for fans.

I watched the teenage workers pace back and forth delivering pizzas to booths, clearing tables, and refilling their own clear cups with colorful flavors at the soda fountain machine. I saw one new employee stop and stare at one of the screens, riveted. I looked up. Wrestling? What? I hadn’t seen wrestling since high school…and on a March Madness night? Turns out it wasn’t just any match, it was the Division 1 Wrestling championships, and Iowa’s three-time national champion, Spencer Lee, was in the depths of competing for a chance at a possible fourth straight title. In the end, however, Lee lost in the semi-finals to Matt Ramos from Purdue, cementing one of the most historical upsets in D1 wrestling.

Why did it matter to me? Spencer’s mom…

As notable as the loss, Spencer Lee’s mom was shown reacting to her son’s defeat, and it was remarkable. As soon as the winner’s arm (which was NOT attached to her son) was lifted by the referee, Lee’s mom tore her glasses off of her face and smashed them up in her hands, not one, not two, but three times, hurling them to the floor.

This might be my favorite video of all time!

The mom of @TheIowaHawkeyes wresting legend Spencer Lee's reaction after his loss in the semi-finals. pic.twitter.com/9jHalcQHjL

— WhoDey All Dey. (@travisbrock24) March 18, 2023

Now that’s mad! Mad at the ref? The opponent? Her son?

Or is it passion? Or sadness? Or frustration?

My mind reeled. Sometimes as parents we are overly invested emotionally and financially in our children’s activities, sports, and school progress. That is to say, we may fail to recall who is swinging the bat, writing the essay, swimming the mile, and solving the equation. Hint: It’s not us…something I forget quite often. Our (sometimes unreasonable) expectations of what our kids can and should do are clear in our heads – run faster, pitch harder, and study smarter. Easy for us to say.

Is it the “happiness” we want for our kids? The joy of winning the race or getting into their number one college? The accomplishment is kinda like a Prime package at our doorstep where underneath the bubble wrap sits all the justification you need for your investment of time, money, and heartache. Until the next thing and the next. Perhaps, as parents, we conflate passion and perfectionism. Let’s face it, seeking perfection is a fool’s errand. We are all messy and cluttered and muddling through the days. Maybe the lesson here is the fact that sometimes other kids are going to do a lot better than our own kids on the field or in the classroom. Sounds like real life doesn’t it?

I recently read about Esther Wojcicki, author of “How to Raise Successful People”. She is best known as the “Silicon Valley’s godmother” and mom to three very successful daughters: Susan, the former CEO of YouTube, Anne, co-founder and CEO of 23andMe, and Janet, a professor at UC San Francisco. By implementing her personal parenting philosophy, which Esther refers to as TRICK: trust, respect, independence, collaboration, and kindness, she feels she was able to raise capable, successful children. As far as being a parent, Wojcicki suggests focusing on your own behavior. She says, “Parenting gives us perhaps the most profound opportunity to grow as human beings.”

As parents, we dim our own internal light to brighten that of our children.

Carl Jung said, “People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls.” “The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely.” 

What I learned this week:

Real life is all I know. Real joy, real feelings, real pain. Sundays I sit at church and gaze at the Stations of the Cross on the walls, and I see our own journeys to Calvary. Falling some days, getting up the next. Being carried and lifted, scorned and loved. Some days we need to carry each other on the path. Mr. Rogers’ mother used to tell him in times of tragedy, Grace will always show up in the helpers. Be the helper. Be there for the mom who hurls her glasses, the kid who misses the fly ball, and your own child who needs your presence, not your commentary. Not today anyway.

“Sadly, many of the things that undermine our joy and happiness we create ourselves. Often it comes from the negative tendencies of the mind, emotional reactivity, or from our inability to appreciate and utilize the resources that exist within us. The suffering from a natural disaster we cannot control, but the suffering from our daily disasters we can. We create most of our suffering, so it should be logical that we also have the ability to create more joy. It simply depends on the attitudes, the perspectives, and the reactions we bring to situations and to our relationships with other people.” –Dalai Lama

#4

I am one of four sisters. The youngest and the furthest away from our parents. Growing up people would refer to me as “the baby” and mom would swoop in like an eagle – wings flapping and correct them in her unyielding tone, “Nooooo, she’s the youngest”. At the time, mom was busy raising four independent girls, and the term “baby” was reserved solely for those in diapers, which we were all out of by age two.

As in most families, we each had our textbook roles as siblings: the oldest – reliable and overly cautious (as kids we barely glimpsed at the Grand Canyon as she herded us like a Border Collie away from the edge), the middle sisters – a tad rebellious, with large social circles (probably helped that they had a cool 1957 Ford truck to drive), and me fun-loving and easy-going perhaps a bit lazy. Now that mom and dad are 84 and 87, respectively, (AMAZING! I KNOW!) life has changed a bit and we have adjusted our roles.

That being said, when it came to caring for them as they waltz hand in hand through their later years, I was not the daughter to step up to the helm and guide the ship. There’s something called “Seagull Syndrome” where the sibling who lives furthest away tends to visit, poop on everyone’s ideas about caretaking and fly home. I try not to do that, but rather be the “fun uncle” type daughter who says yes, to everything (“Yes, cookies for breakfast counts…yes, we can binge watch Blue Bloods until midnight”) and then I head home. 

Thankfully with three sisters, and the Catholic faith as our north star, one of my sisters retired from her job and moved back home to care for them. With a Master’s Degree in psychology, 30 years of experience managing engineers, and a heart of gold, she was clearly qualified and has made what is possibly the noblest of all jobs look easy. She’s the Helen Keller of caretaking. She knows where mom hurts and how to heal, she knows when dad needs to go for a drive or use the wood splitter, and she knows exactly when they both need a nap. Although they both say they “don’t nap”.

As a bunch (think Brady’s with attitude), we each contribute what we can. My oldest sister is always on call and will drop anything to be present. Outsourcing as needed, and sending Pedialyte, Boost, or whatever is needed via amazon. My sister closest to me in age will jump in and clean, manage all outside work, call daily, and do more between 10 pm and 2 am than most people do all day. We all have our jobs, whether it’s calling to tell them stories of our day, making sure mom takes her medicine or dad sits down to rest. But my sister, the primary caretaker has developed a skillful management of self and our parents and for that, we are all grateful. 

How does she do it?

Always reading and learning, she finds the perfect balance between caretaking and respecting our parents’ need for independence. In the book, Being Mortal, author Atul Gawande posits that whether a teen or a senior, they both value autonomy and crave the feeling of purpose and worth every day. So, when Dad, who recently stopped driving wants to drive the truck from the front yard to the back, we let him buckle up and go…better to help him remember he still can, even if just a little bit.

Equally, when mom wants to give the next-door dog, Ned leftovers through the fence (even though he’s been fed), she takes care of dear old Ned. I read a story about Bill Thomas, director of a nursing home in NY who brought in pets for the residents to nurture because he says giving people something to care for makes them more active and alert. Thus my parent’s surplus of suet, bird seed, dog bones, and corn.

Being part of the “Silent Generation” our parents are workers. Raised in the Depression Era, everything is recycled, reused, repurposed, and appreciated. Growing up wood piles were (and still are) precious commodities, prom dresses were made by mom (!) and going out to eat at “The Royal Fork” Buffet was a big deal.

Luckily Dad starts each morning by saying “Another good day, right Mom?!” Mom replies in her realistic tone placing her coffee in the microwave again, “Okay, Dad”. They do this, call each other “Mom and Dad” the titles God bestowed on them that they cherish and will use day after day until there are no more days.

During my visit this past week, I wrote down some notes. As they are specific to my parents, I believe the lessons can be applied to taking care of any senior or otherwise. I wrote this list for my sisters, so it may read like a journal, but thought it might help someone out there.

I strongly believe “everyone needs a destination” 

• Respect what I call “the triangle”: Church, the doctor’s office, and the grocery store. These are their familiar stomping grounds – weave in a few other outings (restaurant, casino, a walk) and it gives the day purpose.

Note: If you have to reschedule a doctor’s appointment, do it. Better to take them when they are prepared and feeling okay than stressed and apprehensive.

Listen to their stories – it connects them to a familiar time

• My mom’s stories about boarding school and all the nuns who served as her family when she moved away from home at 14 years old are formative years that are the spotlight of her daily memory.
• When mom talks about giving up the St. John’s College scholarship offer she received, I think about the huge sacrifice she made for her family by working and supporting them when grandpa was sick. 
• Mom will remind you of the way grandma and grandpa warmed water on the stove for their baths and how they sang songs like “When the Moon Comes Over the Mountain” in perfect harmony.
• Dad will tell you stories in Spanglish as vividly as if you were there.

Speak loudly

• Especially if you are reading a crossword clue to dad or the jumble letters, or driving and mom is in the back seat, or telling a story, or or or.

Diet and meals – let them eat cake!

• Mom will eat more and digest better if the food is cut into small pieces.
• Gatorade powder (more economical per dad) is rejuvenating. Stir thoroughly or he’ll tell you there is “perfectly good wasted sugar at the bottom of the glass” and refill it.
• Happy Hour is sacred, respect it. Open a beer for dad and poor mom’s Pedialyte. Place cheese, gluten-free crackers, and fruit on a plate and enjoy.
• The “Big” meal is at 3:00 pm.
• Dove Bars – we bought eight boxes at the commissary – it’s a highlight of the day…and a fair bribe to get mom to eat.

Outdoor Activities – Emerson said that the happiest person on earth is the one who learns from nature the lessons of worship. So walk outside a lot.

• Mom will always have things to show you around the yard, enjoy the tour. Upon my arrival, she said, “Come meet our new family members.” I went out back and was greeted by 24 cranes who began squawking at me as I approached the fence. “If we go to the poor house,” mom said, “it’s because Dad and your sister keep feeding these guys so much corn”. 
• Watching Dad move wood from the ground to the truck to the splitter and stack it is as exhausting as doing it yourself. 
• Dad will work harder than any 20-year-old you’ve ever met and wonder why “me duele de todo” (everything hurts).
• Later, talk Dad through why “todo duele” (everything hurts) and gently remind him he is 87 years old and must pace himself.

Indoor Weather – Dress for summer

• It will always be warm inside mom and dad’s house. Our brilliant sister has the thermostat programmed to plummet to 72 degrees. (Highly Recommend!) To set the thermostat, press the bottom button on the left once, then walk away nonchalantly. Mom will later turn it up to 81 degrees. Once you are drenched in sweat, repeat the process.
• The fireplace will be used if the weather is 70 degrees or below.

Indoor Activities –

• Mom thinks her hearing is excellent, but according to a hearing test, it’s not. So, before watching Jeopardy, Mom will ask you to “turn up the volume because Dad can’t hear!” 
• Mom’s filter has gone from almost there to MIA so when watching Jeopardy be ready for a roasting of Ken Jennings who “acts like he knows everything” …ummm…he did win about a million times. 
• With Dad’s macular degeneration, he is still able to enjoy and make out the scenery on Alaska shows “Good hard workers!” he says. He also loves “Nat Geo” “The History Channel” and “The Weather Channel”. The more drama the better with the weather.
• Puzzles for mom…have one set up and another on deck at all times. This is her quiet space.

The Newspaper

• Holding the newspaper in their hands brings comfort, familiarity, and joy. Even if Dad can’t see enough to read it.
• Let mom read the paper to dad in the morning while he slurps his way through the coffee and pastries or cookies. Tread lightly, this is their time.
• When Dad shakes out the newspaper he’ll say “Let’s see who’s left and let’s see who moved out of town.” Then he’ll hand me the obituary section to read aloud “slowly”.  I announce the names as if they were crossing the stage at a commencement ceremony, or rather, St. Peter’s gate.
• The crossword and Jumble are great mental gymnastic exercises and keep their minds active.

Top 10 Do’s and Don’ts

1. Don’t do laundry. That’s mom’s gig.
2. If Dad is struggling with something DO take over and help.
3. If mom is struggling with something, leave her alone. She “CAN DO IT!”
4. Don’t move the scissors, pencils, coffee, Kleenex, or blankets. Life is now done by feel and rote memory. 
5. Do agree more.
6. Do let dad cheer up mom. Dad equals levity. 
7. Do help them remember: Dad may not remember what he ate the night before – i.e.: “Oh we ate enchiladas last night? Did I enjoy them?” “Yes dad, you loved them.” “Oh good!”
8. OR “Did we watch Blue Bloods last night?” Yes, dad, you fell asleep the last five minutes. “Did I enjoy it?” Yes, Dad – you loved it.“Oh good!”
9. Do answer the phone, mean people prey on the elderly.
10. Don’t ask them, “do you remember when…” just retell the story.

What I’ve learned:

Being far away is hard. Wondering if this is the phone call is hard hard hard. Saying goodbye to them at the airport when I leave is hard…homesickness in my fifties looks a lot different than it used to and I mentally prep myself for the lifelong homesickness yet to come.

But I love that God and Grace and Mercy exist. I love that when I cry and truly let out my fear of their absence that the tears feel like a Baptism. I love that I have my sisters. I love that we are like a pit crew, repairing what is broken, filling up our parent’s tank with all the love we possibly can because we’re on the clock. I love that we take care of each other.

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia

On writing…

“You are going to feel like hell if you never write the stuff that is tugging on the sleeves in your heart–your stories, visions, memories, songs: your truth, your version of things, in your voice. That is really all you have to offer us, and it’s why you were born.”

Anne Lamott