Last week I loaded three kids on the Amtrak and trekked north to Seattle in pursuit of magic. Magic, in the form of Harry Potter that is. The Pacific Science Center is hosting a Harry Potter exhibit through February 13, which in my opinion is well worth the trip if you can swing it.
I promise I will not monopolize this post with any sort of Harry Potter review. Seriously, what’s left to be said?
What our little day excursion did get me thinking about though was magic. More specifically how the pursuit of magic seems to be eroding in our culture. One of my friends was recently lamenting about the amount of homework her two and half year old son brings home from preschool. My friend works full time and has a newborn, so confessed she usually does her preschooler’s homework late in the evening after the kids have gone to bed. In our household, the erosion of magic, comes in the form of standardize testing. My first grader trots home with a practice math test in his backpack every day. Fortunately for him, the tests are a breeze, but I know that’s not the case for many of his classmates, and more importantly what other innovative projects do teachers have to give up in order to prepare today’s students for the litany of standardize tests before them?
Add to this the assortment of technological choices our kiddos have at their fingertips after-school like: TV, video games, cell phones, and social media. Not to mention the unyielding trend of organized after-school activities. I remember hopping on my bike and tooling around the neighborhood after school, or playing Little House on the Prairie with the neighbor kids in my backyard. Now, the expectation is carting our kids from soccer to piano, and dance to art class.
I suppose that’s why spending a day immersed in magic resonated with me. Aside from the whimsical nature of the exhibit itself, think potting Mandrakes and playing a round of Quidditch, all three kids were sucked out of their test-taking and technology worlds. My tweener niece and nephew didn’t focus on looking cool or texting friends. Soon to be seven, Luke didn’t beg to play on my iPhone or plug into a movie on the train ride home. Instead, they chomped on chocolate frogs, pretended to stupefy each other, and rambled on about how amazing it would be if magic really existed. And, for that moment, it did.
It’s been just a little over a month since the release of Underneath the Ash. The experience has been a mix of emotions and I suspect, as with so many things in life, I won’t fully be able to comprehend my tangled thoughts until I have some distance. So, for the moment I’d simply like to say thanks…
First and foremost, thanks to all of you who’ve taken the time to read the book. Launching in the height of the holidays didn’t exactly lend itself to light reading. As most of you know I’m a mystery junkie (in fact I’m fast at work on my second book, a mystery at the moment) which seems like the ideal holiday read. I was touched by how quickly many of you read the book, despite my warnings and the madness of December. Not to worry, if you haven’t read it yet there’s plenty of time. In fact, I think it’s a perfect post-holiday read.
Secondly, thanks to those of you who’ve emailed, written, facebooked, tweeted, and called me with your feedback and response to the story. This by far has been the highlight of the entire process. It’s so fascinating to learn what each person takes away and brings to the book based on their own personal journey. I feel like this alone is the best gift of all and has allowed for such interesting conversations and connections with friends and strangers alike.
And, finally thanks to those of you who’ve reviewed the book and sent it on to friends, colleagues, and neighbors. If you haven’t had a chance to review the book, please do so on Amazon. I promise all reviews are welcome. Clearly, if you’ve read the book you understand that honesty is a critical value to me (sometimes at my own detriment) so whether you have glowing or constructive feedback I’d love for you to share it.
It’s onward to the next project for me. I’m looking forward to writing something entirely different and hopefully fun. Next time, I can almost guarantee a light holiday read!
It all comes down to today. One game. One chance at a national title. If you had asked me during my tenure at the University of Oregon when we slogged through wet, win-less seasons, if this day would ever come, I likely would have answered, “doubtful.” Sure maybe that made a doubter. I prefer the word “realist” though because in those days we didn’t dream of national titles. We dreamt of a winning a game.
And, yet somehow the football team, University, fans, and state as a whole have arrived on this date: January 10, 2011 as our Ducks get set to take the field in front of a frenzied national audience.
Win or lose tonight, it’s a great day to be a Duck. And, apparently I’m in good company here in my neck of the woods. Click here to read my latest Vancouver Voice column about fellow Ducks “On the Wrong Side of the River.”
I can’t wait to see how it all plays out, but regardless, this one game will forever shape the future of Oregon football. Go Ducks!
It’s impossible to greet the end of one year and the start of another without a time of quiet reflection. Mine comes tonight with a glass of wine, warm fire, the soft glow of Christmas lights, and the sound of Luke and his best buddy making use of all the loot that Santa left.
2010 brought its fair share of joys and sorrows in our household. When I glance back it’s not the highs or lows I remember, but rather the assortment of common, casual, and endearingly comfortable days in between. Even more so, I’ll remember this as the decade that I came of age. I lost a parent, gained a child, and learned how I define myself in the world.
I think it will be interesting to see how history reflects on this chunk of time. But, I’ll leave the postulating and comparative lists on advancements in technology and celebrity gossip to the year-end pundits. Instead I’ll turn inward with my thoughts this winter’s evening and leave you with someone else’s words:
“New Year’s Eve is like every other night; there is no pause in the march of the universe, no breathless moment of silence among created things that the passage of another twelve months may be noted; and yet no man has quite the same thoughts this evening that come with the coming of darkness on other nights.” ~ Hamilton Wright Mabie
Wishing you health and happiness in 2011.
Most of our important family discussions occur in the car while driving home from school. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve been blindsided by questions from the backseat, and nearly blindsided by cars as I swerve and try to pull my thoughts together before answering. In a future post, I’ll recap some of the highlights, but for the moment here’s what I heard from the backseat last week: “Hey mom, a bunch of kids at school say Santa’s not real, that it’s just the parents. Is that true?”
Insert screeching car sounds here! I wanted to shout, ”WHAT? Who told you that?” But as I glanced in the rear-view mirror I noticed his bottom lip was quivering. So, I shakily steered the car towards home and tried to pull something reasonable together. In a panic to help him hold on to his belief I threw out, “Well, you can believe anything you like honey, but I certainly wouldn’t want to risk not believing and having Santa skip our house.” Ouch! Not my best parenting moment.
Fortunately, as fate would have it, waiting in my Inbox was an email from the PNP (Portable North Pole) reminding me that Santa is back and better than ever this year. The site allows you to upload photos and details that only the Big Man would know. Then, Santa gives kids a sneak-peak into his workshop, ice-caves where his elves are busy handcrafting magnificent sculptures, and introduces his fleet of reindeer. All this is neatly delivered via email directly from Mr. Claus.
For the second year in a row, the PNP saved Christmas in the Seeley house. The technology is seamless. Even as an adult, I was completely captivated. Santa magically knew all about our trip to Rome, and Luke’s first lost tooth. He pinpointed our house on his radar screen and recommended that Luke help out more during the holidays. This has prompted a mad dash to do the dishes after dinner each night, but more importantly it’s restored the belief that he wasn’t ready to give up. I know that in the years to come, Luke’s belief in Santa and all things magical will be relegated to a childhood memory. But, I also know that for now he still wants to believe and thanks to the PNP he does!
When I first started writing about my experience becoming a mother while losing my mother to young onset Alzheimer’s, I never intended to write a book. But, here we are today with the release of Underneath the Ash.
The process of writing was cathartic, painful, and transforming. I’m so thankful to my incredible family who willingly allowed me to share our worst and best moments in print. I hope that in sharing our story, we’ll help smooth the path for those who come behind us.
My deepest thanks also go out to my network of friends and fellow writers, who provided insight, painstakingly edited the manuscript, and cheered me on in the process! I’m forever grateful for your feedback, listening ears, and coffee runs.
Alzheimer’s may have stolen pieces of my mother, but writing this book has made her whole again, something I never would have imagined four years ago.
Click here to buy your copy of Underneath the Ash today!
I seem to be alone in my quest these days to hold on to the holiday. The holiday of Thanksgiving that is.
What’s happened to Thanksgiving? Sure, it’s not a sexy holiday. It doesn’t have a Santa Claus or Easter Bunny who secretly deliver gifts in the wee hours of the night. Thanksgiving can’t boast fireworks, inventive costumes, or chocolate truffles and heart-shaped candies. But, what it lacks in sparkle it makes up for in steadfast tradition.
No other holiday can compare with the tastes of Thanksgiving, of dewy turkey, sage and sausage stuffing, and fresh vanilla whipped cream swirled over pumpkin pie. Nor do other holidays provide an opportunity to meditate on gratitude. Thanksgiving is a crackling fire, muddy boots lining the front porch, the scent of Parker House Rolls rising in the oven, and a moment of pause as fall’s evening light fades and winter closes in.
Why then the abandonment of Thanksgiving? The instant jack-o-lanterns were hoisted into recycling bins and skeletons packed away for another season, Christmas creped in.
It didn’t use to be this way. There was a time when the entire month of November with its kaleidoscope of falling leaves and brisk mornings was devoted to Thanksgiving. Christmas has no place in the fall. I want an eggnog latte when it’s twenty degrees outside and the trees are barren, not on a blustery afternoon when the east wind is whipping leaves in the air like confetti. Twinkle lights, evergreen swags, and Christmas music playing 24/7 on the radio are all good and well…in December! Retailers and coffee shops be damned. This week I’m celebrating Thanksgiving. And, for that I’m thankful.
November is National Alzheimer’s Awareness Month and National Family Caregivers Month. In partnership with The Oregonian, we (as in the Oregon Chapter) produced a special section that appears in today’s paper. Working on the piece was equally exciting and challenging. In fact, there were a few times last month when I thought we might never make it to print! But, I’m thrilled with the end result and believe it will make an impact and help connect families to the Chapter’s programs and services.
In writing the stories that appear in the feature, I interviewed professionals, caregivers, and some incredible people living with Alzheimer’s. I was humbled by the experience, and struck by how dramatically things have changed since my mom’s death. When my mom was in the early stages of the disease we never uttered the word Alzheimer’s in front her. We spoke in hushed tones, and told strangers she had “mild cognitive impairment.” We struggled with how to help her interact at the grocery store or when ordering coffee, and tried to shelter her as much as possible.
This is not the case for the families I interviewed. They’ve embraced the disease in ways I never could, and in doing so are paving a new path for those who come behind them. Rather than shrinking away, they’re standing tall and saying, “Yep, I’ve got Alzheimer’s and I’m still here. Talk to me!” I know that a decade or so from now, we’ll look back at this time and recognize this is the moment that Alzheimer’s became a cause. I’m forever grateful that I was able to witness it.
To read the section in its entirety click here.
Last week’s front page of the Oregonian featured a recent study published by the American Academy of Neurology that correlates walking six to nine miles a week with lower rates of dementia (click here to read the article in its entirety). One the pros and cons of my job is that I get to see a number of these studies before they hit the media. And, unfortunately that means seeing how many promising ideas and theories fail in clinical trials. Recent studies that have generated initial media buzz, but ultimately failed include Vitamin E and fish oil.
While it’s disheartening to watch how many studies fail, it’s equally exciting to track the plethora of new theories that are being tested. And, more than ever it’s critical that the Federal Government invests in Alzheimer’s research now. For every $2.50 that the government spends on health care costs for those living with Alzheimer’s, it spends one cent on research. It’s going to take a paradigm shift to turn those numbers around. The Alzheimer’s Association is leading the fight in an effort to make Alzheimer’s research a national priority. Click here to learn how you can be a part of that.
On to better news…along with walking, red wine and vitamin D are currently on the watch list as potentially offering preventative benefits against Alzheimer’s. Not surprising, given that the Alzheimer’s Association has been recommending following a heart healthy diet for the past decade. We’ll have to wait and see where research lands on this theory, but in the meantime it certainly can’t hurt to adhere to the heart health guidelines, plus a glass of pinot noir with my daily walk sure sounds nice.
The space between Luke’s teeth is wider these days, thanks in part to a slice of Canadian bacon and pineapple pizza and some vigorous wiggling. For weeks he complained that every other first grader had lost a tooth. He was convinced that he was the only one in his class with a full set of baby teeth and beginning to ask if maybe something had gone terribly wrong and his grown-up teeth weren’t going to come in after all. I encouraged him to be patient, explained that loosing teeth takes time, and promised that one day soon he’d have a gap in his smile too.
And then, just like that, it happened. One day his tooth was rock solid, the next it held a slight hint of a wiggle, and hours later Luke bounded into the living room holding his tooth and grinning ear to ear.
Today the space between seems much wider. The tiny gap is a reminder of how quickly my child is transforming, and the ongoing realization that there’s nothing I can do to stop it. As much as I’d like to freeze this moment or wish him back to younger days where he slept on my chest for hours, his evolution through childhood marches on. I think my only option is to embrace the space, and hope that with each little wiggle I can learn to let go.
Last week I loaded three kids on the Amtrak and trekked north to Seattle in pursuit of magic. Magic, in the form of Harry Potter that is. The Pacific Science Center is hosting a Harry Potter exhibit through February 13, which in my opinion is well worth the trip if you can swing it.
