Entering 2025 to build, explore and converse

 Officially walking back into the routine of leisure time activities and professional work for the year 2025...

Excited about:

Building a micro-curriculum, aligned with understanding the use of and the legal environment of AI in Advertising. I've spent the winter break diving into the subject of AI ~ so much content to digest! And disclaimer, I'm an advocate for the use of it.

Exploring/Discovering good food, by getting back to my love of scratch cooking on the weekends. + Take more cooking classes.

Conversing more, my professional life engages a great deal of time in public discourse on a wide variety of subjects with a host of different people...I need to do more of it with everyday people about everyday existence.

These are not resolutions simply aspirations to walk into a year filled with newness.

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Art Exhibit Milliken Art Gallery

Some of you know me for public relations and communications, others for teaching in higher education, others for media law, but there is also a creative side that accompanies my daily living. 

The Aquabet pen and ink series was my first endeavor in 2010, then Word Strings: Pearls of Wisdom for Everyone book of prose in 2017, followed by the 2108-2019 improv community performance work, The Power of Words Tour.

My creative projects keep me grounded and I have never been one to push my work out for attention. But I'm quite proud that a couple of pieces from my pen and ink series "Aquabet" will be featured with other faculty work at the Milliken Art Gallery at Converse College

Exhibit: August 24 - September 21
Opening Reception September 7, 2023 6:30p

(Thank you Spartanburg Community College for nominating my work to be showcased).

During this season of gratitude...

During this season of gratitude, I encourage each of us to remember the community that we are...fellow humans.

As we focus on the end of the year and all of the additional responsibilities that come along with the holiday season, let's place a high priority on our own self-care and that of others in our community.

Take breaks, connect with friends, breathe, plan ahead, continue healthy habits, reach out to someone, share a cup of coffee, or even a simple smile. It’s the small things that sometimes have the greatest impact.

With gratitude daily for those in this life, near or far, past or present, here but gone, and those yet to cross the path.

Shoreline of change

Escaping into solitude with shorelines of sand, pluff mud and reeds...

There are many reasons to visit, live, or linger in the Lowcountry region of South Carolina. What I value most is her sultry way of letting me just be...to wonder and wander without limitation.

Port Royal, SC is a small village of almost nothing, but everything at the same time. We've seen a great deal of change in the economy of this small town through the financial market crash to being hit last year with a tropical storm and a hurricane. The village is about to undergo some big change this fall as a port redevelopment project gets underway.

I will mourn the loss of the "sleepy" nature of my village along the coast. The port project will bring commerce and activity as well as a great deal of visual/physical change to the village center. At the same time, I welcome what such a development will offer the community, her people, the market of opportunity, and perhaps maybe even my own endeavors.

Heading into fall I know change is afoot.
My remarks to town council related to the port property during the open public comment period in August 2017:

I served on the redevelopment commission for the Town of Port Royal for eight years and am quite familiar wth the port property, past and present. 

Historically, careful consideration was given to conducting charrettes to “take in” public opinion when the sale of this port was placed on our table to develop.

What seems evident to me in these public forums is that the citizens of Port Royal reflect back to that thoughtful process with great pride.  [As do I] It is a benchmark for many and a healthy one to leverage in the discourse or discussions related to the port.

However, even then we did not all agree about the future of the port nor will we all agree today in what is to come. It’s healthy discourse to disagree with so many diverse interests in one small town like ours, ONE THAT IS COOL.

In making decisions connected to this port as our designated body of decision makers, our council members have to make choices that serve those who will come along long after they and many of us are gone.

Please keep in mind that access is not only a public right of way but also in the opportunity to participate in the commerce and activity of this port. The jobs and commercial activity of what is to grow and thrive inside this port and in close proximity will have positive economic impact on our ability to enjoy both the land and sea of our community, ONE THAT IS COASTAL.

In terms of any land swap...

• don’t give away what improves our quality of life and existing views;
• do enhance what we see.

In terms of the existing dry stack...

• don’t overlook what could be done today to create immediate opportunity for economic gain;
• do weigh the future over the past.

The role of our members of council certainly includes sustaining long term growth and viability for our town, its residents and business owners. As such our assets should be configured so that they shine bright in this FAR FROM ORDINARY town.

Thank you.

A Universal pause

Gratitude. A guy runs a red light collides with my car at a busy intersection at 4 o'clockish.

A decent human. One with a heart. Apologizes profusely and asks if I'm ok as he acknowledges his error and the damage to my car (completely taken out of commission). He asks, "Do you have someone you can call?" I respond (no) but I honestly meant to say yes, but I was so caught up in my head asking the Universe why she delivered this pause, at this time, am I not suppose to be traveling today? (NO was clearly her answer).

I was immediately feeling the bruises to my chest and legs from the blown air bags and a bit in shock, but whole, able to get out of my car and walk away (as were the dogs). So I said it (no) out loud to the conversation I was having with the universe in my head, but immediately recognized the poor man hanging on this answer ladled across his guilt. "Everything happens for a reason and clearly we were meant to pause," I say. He was taken aback by this response and said "Wow you have a great outlook." I look down at my two dogs, who seem to be asking me "is this some entertainment stop I've cooked up for them while taking a drive in the car?" I simply smile "I'm standing upright, everything's ok."

Between the very nice citizens on the scene (a beautiful woman named Mary Beth who stayed with me until the police arrived) and police officers who saw to my safety and the heavy traffic with efficiency and humanity, the ride in the tow truck cab with Aaron who just happened to love dogs and made sure Bob waited with his courtesy van to get me home, I'm overflowing with gratitude and taking the edict of the Universe to stay put to heart. Seat belts and airbags are all they are cracked up to be, while I'm bruised, the outcome may have been very different had I not had both in play.

Lowcountry reflection on Hurricane Matthew

Oct 6: A safe distance from harm's way with a looming hurricane gives rise to a great many thoughts about living. I have prayed a great deal for the safe keeping of the South Carolina Lowcountry this last 24 hours, most especially for its people who are weathering out or working through the storm, its natural landscape and most certainly its humble wildlife. My home will either be there battered, under water or with some luck still standing when I return next week. The realities of living in a hurricane zone are always there but the truth is, after one gets cozy in the lifestyle and good weather the lingering reality of severe weather gets pushed back to a vague recognition of "it could happen but hasn't for a great many years." I adopted #SouthCarolina as my state 13 years ago and while I may not be a native daughter I most certainly call my little Charleston salt box and small plot of pond life along her coast "home."

Oct 8: Recovery. We can do this!

Oct 9: It has been said many times over last 72 hours so worth acknowledging that the social platform of @Facebook played a crucial role in keeping #Lowcountry residents connected, near and far, during #HurricaneMatthew. From media coverage to local citizen reporters to the delivery of simple photographs and messages of hope. These made a difference in the experience. I am tainted by my affection for new media and its relevance in contemporary discourse, but honestly I'd give Mark Zuckerberg a big hug and invite him to sit on my porch to shoot the breeze and talk about pond life right now if presented the opportunity. And we'd be remiss if we didn't also acknowledge Sprint, Verizon and AT&T for giving us the bandwidth to find huge value in cellular communications during a natural disaster. Thank you.

Oct 9: What many outside our area won't connect to the natural disaster otherwise known as #HurricaneMatthew is the fact that jobs are lost as a direct result of the devastation. The longer recovery takes, the economy of the entire community suffers and the individuals connected to the hospitality industry (hotels, resorts, pubs, restaurants, grocery stores, musicians/entertainers, golf courses, tennis courts, marinas, etc) will be hardest hit. We need to make sure we support these folks while they are in transition.

Oct 10: Yep I made it through another year to tell many more tall tales, hug every single one of you at least once virtually (and a few of you in person) and sit on my side porch countless times with a great deal to be thankful for in this life. I am subdued in my celebration this year amid the news of hardship that so many of you are facing in post storm recovery. Your early morning messages and texts are so very heart warming and definitely generated big smiles. I urge you to join me in celebrating by making a donation to your local American Red Cross or Salvation Army and/or volunteer your time to aid someone in need. Do this and I'll celebrate the year ahead knowing we all paid it forward.

Oct 11: We are all grateful for any and all efforts to secure our homes in Beaufort County and to sustain our well-being before, during and after Hurricane Matthew's impact along the South Carolina coast. We'd be remiss if we did not acknowledge there was an intention to do right by the citizens of this county. However, the lesson in post-storm reflection is truly for better and clearer communications between municipalities, county government, local law enforcement, emergency response teams, our governor and state officials. Senator Davis' positive glean on what transpired and his own role in relaying information is commendable. Representative Erickson's authentic response to the lack of a solid crisis communication plan at all levels should get the applause. Let's appreciate the valuable lesson captured in this experience and convey that we expect more if ever faced with this type of natural disaster again.

Oct 13: Finally made it back. A plethora of deer along the roadways, smell of pluff mud is stronger than usual, and tree debris piled up high on curbs. A few obvious structural issues at the house that even the night sky can't mask and it all may certainly look different by the light of day, but for now I'm going to count myself luckier than most and thank the universe for small blessings.

Oct 13: Biggest concern I've heard thus far from the small business owners in the area is loss of revenue, if they did not have 'interruption insurance' what can they do to recoup that loss?

Oct 13: The human stories are worth telling. The gentleman that came to fix my door jam today returned to the Lowcountry yesterday just as I did, only he found his home looted, I did not. What makes his story worth telling isn't the fact that he got robbed. It's that he did not let that define his experience of evacuation and returning home.  He took his tool belt and talent to HIlton Head island this morning and before going home this evening to his own family made a stop at my house at 6p to fix my door. And tomorrow morning he will go back to HIlton Head Island and again stop to see me before going home to tackle my water soaked attic. To witness such resiliency and determination is to know that we are not alone and that each of us matter. More importantly, there are the kindest souls out there willing to bring what they can to any situation.Here's to Aaron for making a difference in my own experience of recovery. Thank you.

Oct 15: Recovery. We got this.  

Worker problem on Hilton Head Island and the Lowcountry region via The Island Packet

I would like to publicly applaud The Island Packet for its advocacy on behalf of the hospitality industry on Hilton Head Island and the surrounding region. The newspaper's journalistic efforts (in publishing a series of articles) to address systematic problems in sustaining a quality workforce long term makes plain that change is needed to sustain such a critical industry to the economic stability of the area.

Far too long has economic development in the region been skewed towards dead end investment. Tourism and hospitality are viable avenues to create stability in the long term, while other industries have a tendency to lag. 

The strength of the region's efforts in this regard is very much determinate on building resources...human performance, infrastructure, capital projects, education (at all levels: high school, certificate programs, technical college and 4yr). The voices of those working to fulfill every imaginable service have consistently remained absent and should be considered necessary. Bolstering the industry with resources won't remain viable without active representation or advocacy from the workforce itself. That is, the voices of those that serve on the front line sitting at the table to lend experience when visioning the island's future.

As such, I will continue to lend my praise to the newspaper's editorial board and its reporters for standing with the people and not the system in this series.

Changing tides amid primary endorsements

The changing tide is something coastal dwellers are keen to recognize. It tells us where the moon rests in her phases. It determines our course of direction during hurricane season. It stands as a constant reminder that the ebb and flow of our lives is quite natural, and to be expected. And while coastal communities exist at every corner of the world in different time zones, we have, for centuries experienced the same phenomena of the incoming and outgoing flush of renewal. It happens effortlessly.

Then there is the bewildering changing tide of the political arena. While I am quite comfortable engaging in the electoral process and have had the opportunity to appreciate how it plays out in local, regional and national arenas, I am in this current election cycle, disheartened by the evolving divisiveness of our nation's people. What happened to embracing our narrative as an eclectic assortment of individual hopes and dreams? At the end of the day what makes this country rich is our differences and our ability to govern this nation recognizing the value and necessity of our diverse makeup.

The primary season of election cycles is intended to vet out the options, make plain the candidates' views on governance, and create solidarity around key issues. However, in the 2016 rendition of the voting process there seems a direct intent to demonize a citizen choice to engage time and effort with any specific candidate. I was raised to and continue to believe that to endorse a candidate that clearly emulates the values and platform held by an individual simply denotes a willingness to place confidence in the process. Understandably a process and a legislative agenda that many will agree is fraught with problems, but it is owned by us, every citizen of these United States.

In the months approaching Election 2016 I have come to realize how naive the assumption is that society holds "respect" in high regard. As a nation, the United States is beset by war, poverty, hunger and a constantly shifting economy. Clearly, our people want and need change. Change that is long overdue. But is casting our neighbors and other citizens aside for choosing to believe differently worth it? The generations to follow will recognize the disproportionate nature of "acceptance" in these proceedings and become disillusioned with the process, perhaps even giving up on it all together.

What we experience in nature happens effortlessly. What we envision for our country takes work, understanding and a willingness to agree in our disagreement. To do otherwise will divide us. Our nation of differences must stand beside each other to ever truly become great again.

It's not fatal if we shepherd change.

A seven-year old has a natural curiosity to understand the world around them. Everything is new and most anything invariably involves asking why it is so. That was most certainly true in 1970 in Huntington, West Virginia. 

I recall that evening in October when my father came home from the Marshall University campus after students protesting recent drug raids were tear-gassed. As an Episcopal minister it would not have been unusual for my father, also an adjunct teaching social work at the university, to believe his campus presence a necessary protocol as a member of the faith community. He certainly would have been easy to identify with his white clerical collar. Whether he chose, was asked or just happened to be on campus that evening one thing remains vivid in my memory and that was the sense of relief my mother expressed when he returned home. (Tragically this unfortunate event was followed by the plane crash on November 14, 1970 that claimed the lives of thirty-seven members of the Marshall football team, its coach, its doctors, athletic director and 25 team boosters. To say that Huntington as a community introduced me to the art of resilience is an understatement. It remains a special place.)

Flash forward to Ithaca, New York in October of 2015 when a campus wide assembly was

called by the Ithaca College administration to address racism and cultural bias. I remember catching the clerical collar out of the corner of my eye and denoting the gentleman’s location in the lobby as I, along with other alumni, members of the staff, faculty and student population proceeded into the College’s Athletics & Events Center. Truthfully, this assembly was crafted as poorly as prior attempts for fostering genuine dialogue. A heavy uniform presence, staff instructed to marshall attendees to fill seats on the floor, a panel of speakers comprised of white-haired caucasian men...all the trappings and appearances of inflexibility. However, what made this particular evening different was a student protest by POC at IC who took to the stage to verbally deliver a bevy of information recounting the campus experience for students of color. When the students concluded their remarks they asked the audience to join them in walking out on a panel prepped to talk at them rather than include them. By my estimate 75% of the audience elected to leave the assembly and I was part of that procession.

At the onset I intended to listen fairly to the discussion, taking in all that was to be said, but one look at the panel suggested my good intention would be lost on yet another misguided, maligned attempt to control the conversation. I grabbed a quick video clip of the procession out of the building, walked up a short flight of stairs on a mission to locate the man in the clerical collar. When I found him I hugged him, whispering quietly to him “Father, I think we’ve been here before.” I gingerly gripped his arm in recognition and walked away. In that moment, hugging a man of the cloth, it was as if I had the chance, some fifty years later, to understand fully my father’s commitment to his faith and to the students at Marshall University that fall evening in 1970.

While one can deliver instruction on recognizing discrimination and embracing an ever-expanding definition of diversity it is wholly another challenge to grasp the impact of bias academically, economically, and culturally. Change takes time. That is especially true when it seems to be languishing in the bureaucracy of decision-making and disingenuous dialogue on a college campus. Thus, sometimes negotiating a new way forward necessitates action. 

As similar calls to action are made at several institutions of higher education I imagine those with the greatest to lose are those seeking to avoid or negate the conversation about doing things differently.

Frankly, presidents, Board of Trustees, administrative heads, alumni, faculty, staff and students at any of these institutions will find they are compromised by inaction perhaps even culpable. It's only fatal if we don't take action to shepherd change. 

Random act of pet kindness

A true cat tale follows...While our home boasts about its dog life most days we also have a resident feline named Chickabee (BeBe for short). Said cat has decided that indoor life is just too boring a way to spend a day in the life of a feline. As such, she has been quite successful in escaping out the front door as the dogs enter and exit for daily walks. 

Recently, as I'm corralling my feline after yet again another escape [this tale picks up at the point when I was 30 minutes into cat prompts, cuss words and dropping treat trails] a generous young man walks over to me (holding a feather) and says he saw me walking around the neighborhood and asked if he could help me. I, in utter cat frustration, reply "Well, if you think you are a cat whisperer by all means jump in." Without flinching this young man responds "Mam' I AM a student at the Vet College." 

So somewhere over there at the Big Red they teach the first rule of thumb with a confident, sassy, utterly frustrated pet owner: shut them down by framing a reference around who you are. WORKS. I immediately recoiled at my reaction to his offer of assistance... here's this guy with a feather in his hand and I'm throwing out some ridiculously clouded emotional response (what a poor excuse for a human I was in this instance). I paused long enough to quit chiding myself for seeming so ungrateful and thanked him for being so kind and said, out loud, that I indeed needed his help. 

Now here's the back story. This guy had just pulled up into the parking lot so while he's helping me his very large dog named Drake is sitting patiently in his master's truck watching the two of us pull our stealthiest cat retrieval moves. For about 20 minutes the dog waited and watched and this Cornell Vet student managed a frantic human. It's safe to say, as for Chickabee, having two humans in the game of catch me if you can just made it more fun. And it ended quite undramatically when she decided it was time to go home and walked unsolicited right up to the front door to be let in. It would have made a perfect periscope moment for viral feed this cat parade.

I keep saying to myself and to anyone I tell this story to...if this is how this kind human starts his career in veterinary medicine he will go far. Moral of the story? There is indeed hope when things seem impossible and if there's a vet student at hand most assuredly makes that true.

Finding place in a shifting world

Seeking solitude or simply stepping back from the hectic pace of one's life isn't uncommon. In fact, I suspect quite common as the world shifts and our lives seek greater balance in what some interpret as turbulent times.


As some of you know from previous posts I spent the better part of a decade in the Ithaca, New York area before heading south. An era before recessional trends and gray hair. In this rally into my golden age I find I am a constant interloper of the Finger Lakes. I give myself permission constantly to hold this region tight while also keeping my feet firmly planted in the sands along the coast of South Carolina. As if placing myself in the lush natural surroundings means I'm cheating on the wide swing tides of the Lowcountry.


It's the places I find myself occupying during these retreats that make it sweet...

The City of Ithaca has successfully completed a reinterpretation (repair) of its Commons where a young mayor (Svante Myrick) brings his youthful enthusiasm to the concrete and civic endeavors found in his backyard. From Hip Hop concerts to public coffee talks with the local police chief to cutting the ribbon on another new entrepreneur's business. What one individual does makes others take notice. Check out the mayor's parking space at City Hall, here.

An uncommon space and constantly evolving is Mimi's Attic. One need not be in the market for their wares, simply checking out the staff's talent to recreate living spaces on the shop floor every day is entertainment enough on any given day. In my mind, no one in the interiors market has anything on the sharp marketing and design skills of this team.

Then there is the Meeting House at Boiceville Cottages, a common lodge where members of the community can gather either serendipitously or in planned celebration. I've met some remarkable people simply by spending a few hours a week in this community space. Some weeks it's a graduate student writing a dissertation, others a book club discussing their latest read, or a yoga class bringing everyone to center and sometimes it's simply young people parking their bicycles on the curb to grab a quick cartoon.

Spending time with James Rada in the Roy H. Park School of Communications at Ithaca College in planning to bring students to South Carolina in the days leading up to the primary in February 2016 gives me the chance to engage in my home state even when away. James accompanied students to Washington DC in 2013 as they covered the 50th Anniversary of the March on Washington for NBC and PBS Newshour. In March 2015, he joined Ithaca College students as they travelled to Alabama to cover the 50th Anniversary of Selma for NBC News. They will come to South Carolina in 2016 to shed light on the new and old south during a key democratic process. I'm proud of my alma mater for interpreting the experiential nature of its curriculum as key to its students success and lucky enough to have the time to share in the journey.

Discovering my place in this world simply by being where I am.

How to vacation charitably

Once upon a time taking a "vacation" meant complete abandonment from life's routine.  No schedule,  no agenda and certainly no expectations or planning. The act of going on vacation meant a time to rest and relax by putting away the world that engulfed my existence in any other given moment.

There were the teenage years of inviting friends to accompany our family on the annual summer excursion to Surfside Beach. Those years were memory makers.  However, as family members passed away the location grew to become a stark reminder of absence. Family vacations then became a means to keep grief at bay. There were destination shifts to Ocracoke, North Carolina, Destin, Florida and Tybee Island, Georgia. Each location with undeniably beautiful attributes never really kept those feelings of loss from surfacing, they simply didn't reinforce it.  Looking back, my relocation to South Carolina in later life was driven by a desire to reside in the landscape where those warm family memories were made.

The young adult years entailed being invited to join others in their adventures near and far.  This period spans both coasts of the United States. Road trips with sorority sisters, conferences for professional development, packing and moving to accept a new job, and attending weddings (there were a lot of these). These years are memorable. However, notably missing in these jaunts are many of the in-between states that we either flew over or slept through.

Decades after graduating from college vacation travel became fodder for exploration both of self and places outside the United States. Cruises, canal tours, sandy beaches, mountain top retreats and a myriad of food and music festivals.  These years created a presence of just being. Several earlier blog posts allude to destination travel and while it's habit to denote these experiences via FaceBook, Instagram and Twitter there's a notable shift in my thoughts on how vacation time should be spent in present day tense.

I'm definitely late to the notion of vacation as a philanthropic opportunity. Congregations of people and civic groups have dedicated themselves to mission work, student exchanges, and immersion programs for far longer than I've been alive.  A recent visit to Eleuthera, Bahamas was a catalyst in viewing time away in a different light.  I met a librarian at a bar. Truly, a serendipitous  meeting, while picking up a pizza at the Rainbow Inn in Rainbow Bay.  Turns out the individual, Susy Siel, is the executive director of Freedom to Read, Inc and she endeavors to build settlement libraries in Eleuthera every summer.  Outside summer months, she's a media specialist at a high school in Wisconsin. It was not so much meeting her, but the post conversation exploration of the organization's website and FaceBook page that it dawned on me, someone who believes that reading is fundamental and who has even tutored reading in her local community, that here's an individual that gets it right. Susy through community development and a league of committed volunteers is making an investment in young people, creating a legacy that reaps benefits beyond the books that stock the libraries shelves.

While it's still important to escape the daily routine either in union or isolation there's a host of opportunities to do good work, make a difference and give back.  Perhaps embracing this concept gives rise to the desire to step back from life and incorporate charitable endeavors into a ritual once reserved for self indulgence.  I don't doubt that there was purpose in the universe placing Susy and I in the same location for that brief period of time.  It was my aha moment.

A fisherman's daughter

Every vivid memory of my dad involves fishing. He absolutely LOVED to fish. If he had down time that's what he did, fish. If you wanted time with him then you were relegated to know how to bait a hook. Even in his last months of life, going to the pier to watch others fishing or simply to gaze out across the water and eating fried flounder where tops on his list. I caught myself on the boardwalk lingering this Father's Day morning to watch the early morning fish charters roll out of the sound knowing I was every bit my father's daughter.

Pond Life

A body of water, whether fresh or salt infused, immediately reminds me how complex simplicity can be. Above, below and even around it natural life teams with activity. That is very much what I found here while retreating at Flat Bottom Pond in Vineyard Haven, Massachusetts. 

A wide variety of birds announce daylight's entry whilst casting their melodies across a landscape glistening fresh with dew. The course of the day continues the same until evening heralds a shift. Once night has taken over, pond frogs replace the birds and lightening bugs add a twinkle to the darkness. Each day the same, but no less brilliant than before.

Stormy skies

The landscape of the coast shifts greatly with a change in the weather. Sitting on the enclosed porch at 11th Street Dockside in Port Royal, SC we captured a glimpse of this inland storm moving off the coast.

Skate or Ray?

The Lowcountry is beaming with natural wonders and low tide provides for a glimpse at some of what we may not capture when the shoreline is flush at high tide. Walking along the boardwalk at the port of Port Royal, South Carolina we got a glimpse of what is either a skate or ray. The big debate, which is it?! One onlooker said a "Southern Ray," another indicated the fins at the end of the tail discern the difference. Seems fitting to use #WorldOceansDay to make a trip to the Port Royal Sound Foundation to get a final say on the matter of designation.

I'm a classic stumbler

I was recently asked what appeared on my "bucket list" of things to do (before I die) and the individual making this query was taken aback by my answer, so much so they repeated the question to ensure I had the opportunity to provide a more befitting reply.  Each time I responded in the same manner; however, in the second go around I pre-empted my response with the explanation that I had already been fortunate to have lived many of the experiences others typically place on lists such as this.  Also citing the recent loss of a family member and the travails that follow in sorting through what is relevant and what gets cast aside.

While I appreciate the sentiment of the question there is an entire website offering a means to fulfill one's dreams (bucketlist.org), a host of inspirational books dedicated to it and a plethora of movies depicting the quest to fulfill it,  most notably "The Bucket List" in 2007.  I approach the question of what I must do before I exit life from the standpoint of creating presence past my physical ability to be in the moment literally.  I'm bound you might say by the "eulogy virtue" as explained in a column authored by David Brooks in the New York Times "The Moral Bucket List." I am most certainly the classic stumbler...

"The stumbler doesn't build her life by being better than others, but by being better than she used to be. Unexpectedly, there are transcendent moments of deep tranquility. For most of their lives their inner and outer ambitions are strong and in balance. But eventually, at moments of rare joy, career ambitions pause, the ego rests, the stumbler looks out at a picnic or dinner or valley and is overwhelmed by a feeling of limitless gratitude, and an acceptance of the fact that life has treated  her much better than she deserves."

For the sake of not wanting to appear devoid of "list" material I can conjure at least one place I'd like to spend time in before I kick the bucket. I'd like to scan the rim of the Grand Canyon before some developer strikes a horrific blow to its landscape, all the while trusting that the possibility of destruction never comes to fruition.  Beyond that, I'll stumble my way toward an aim in creating meaningful memories indefinitely. 

We must evolve before we are defined by care levels

Found myself plucked from an eldercare experience framed around a senior in less than adequate health to hovering over an individual in a far more fragile existence this week.  At the same time learning to manage the interests of an individual while drowning in terminology found only in the life span development arena of "levels of care."

Turns out, the routine seems to indicate the experience is consistent with others navigating these same waters. While our experiences are similiar we are a mixed bag of adults attempting, for better or for worse, near or far, to manage the well-being of those closest to us who can no longer muster themselves to stay in the game of life among those who can ambulate.

A myriad of options present themselves to ensure our loved ones find comfort in an unfamiliar realm.  The "old" normal takes a back seat to a new landscape of living with limitations. Some physical, some mental and some spiritual.

While it can seem a solitary experience with a parade of therapists, care plan professionals, case workers, nurses, doctors and social workers arming you with information and the latest of suggestions, one does find oneself lumped in with a group of people with a common experience.  Presenting paper work, notorizing copies, asking questions, soliciting advice to make the best of the situation we find our loved ones in. Bound together by a simple hallway of room numbers and name plates we eventually discover which room a loved one occupies, acquire a familiar tone to inquire "how are things today?" and glean an essence of what life looked like for them before aging and deterioriation stepped in.   Each of us ever clinging to the hope we find a glimpse of the people we once knew before we were robbed of the possibility.

Some days are easy. Others difficult. Constantly carving out time from our own lives to see to it that "our people" have what they need and are aware of their progress or presence ~ whichever is greater at the time.  Putting aside our own lives, our means to earning a living, maintaining relationships and connecting with others are the plates we spin in tandem whilst we also discover the means to managing someone we love in decline.  There really is no choice other than to dive in or stay away from the process.  It really does seem to boil down to the two extremes in general observation.

While the healthcare professionals take on the greatest of burdens of those needing care they must also rally the spirits of the family members when we can't do that for ourselves.  Sometimes the phrase "we got this, you can go home now" is the sweetest of phrases.

What's evident is that there aren't enough options. The categories of classifications are aplenty, but a huge gap remains between what is available and what could be. The cut and dry formula of a senior health care system bolstered by traditional medicine seems outdated; yet, it is far more readily available. What's missing are the nontraditional practices and the acceptance across the board of those disciplines~either as a primary tool or complimentary feature to an allopathic method.  These so called alternative routes continue to break ground in positioning the human being in greater stead.    Whether taken holistically  or applied in a blending of the traditional and nontraditional methodologies it would prove a worthwhile endeavor to explore more options as the rest of us age.

Hope though not in short supply is mighty hard to identify in these waters with oars driven by health care titles, government programs and insurance companies.   It would just seem probable that we mere mortals made up of a dynamic set of particles could employ an assortment of means to improve the human condition. Currently we seem shortchanged by availability.

A better way must evolve. More importantly, we must evolve.

Four Leaf Clovers and Eldercare

Picking up the eldercare journal entries again...

Just when you think your frame of reference for a parent has slipped away and has been replaced with some stranger and utterly unlikeable the Universe has the where-with-all to deliver a sign in a language of words that speaks solely to the intended.

Yesterday, Dad verbally delivered the first stanza from a poem (my dad just doesn't quote poetry EVER). While that's significant in and of itself the underpinning nature of the poem even more poignant...I needed to hear these words.

Four Leaf Clover by Ella Rhoads Higginson (1861-1940)

I know a place where the sun is like gold,
And the cherry blooms burst with snow,
And down underneath is the loveliest nook,
Where the four-leaf clovers grow.

One leaf is for hope, and one is for faith,
And one is for love, you know,
And God put another in for luck—
If you search, you will find where they grow.

But you must have hope, and you must have faith,
You must love and be strong – and so—
If you work, if you wait, you will find the place
Where the four-leaf clovers grow.

Six degrees of separation from the Cooperative Extension System

Recalling the moment I received my award for photography from Eastman Kodak at the Cabell County 4-H Camp and Conference Center in Barboursville, West Virginia brings forth a smile in the recollection of camp fires, new friends and character building activities.   In  many ways it foretold the role Cooperative Extension would play in my life.  Throughout my life.

First the obvious. I spent my club time in Huntington, West Virginia focused on an enriching activity that my mother encouraged me to pursue because of my ability to tell a story.  For many years I read books and kept a journal, but she prodded me to visualize my thoughts "capture the moments you find so easy to craft into words on film." I took those talents a bit further later in life and combined the two activities into a passion for public speaking. What's significant about the award I received is the company, Eastman Kodak. Several years after receiving the photography award our family moved to Kingsport, Tennessee which housed Kodak's second largest facility (now Eastman Chemical, a spin off of the parent company).   Somewhat prophetic when I think about how a young girl in one state lands in another state in a town whose primary employer recognized her photography achievement. 

Now I wish I could say my understanding of the significance of the Smith-Lever Act  prompted me to engage in a 4-H program, but the truth is my parents' participation as volunteers, former 4-Hers themselves finding a way while living poor to give their daughters summer vacations and extracurricular activities made it an ideal environment.  In fact, their personal investment reaped many rewards beyond the time and talent they shared during those early years. 

Fast forward through many life passages~ I graduate from high school, go to college, graduate, secure a job in higher education, get married, get divorced, and then move to Ithaca, New York to go to graduate school. Here's where my Extension story gets interesting.  I attend Ithaca College as an adult student in the Roy H. Park School of Communications to complete a masters in Corporate Communication (also lacking the then current technical skills found in mainstream media), buy into the library privileges at Cornell University so I have the best resources available to me, fall in love with the nineteen libraries at Cornell (easy for a book worm to do) and then graduate. When it came time to locate employment where my previous experience and newly developed skills could go to work my mentor/professor Diane Gayeski  (interestingly enough now dean of the Park School) suggested I look at Cornell, the land grant University for New York state. I also consulted the reference librarians at Mann Library (which services the learning in life sciences, agriculture, human ecology and applied social sciences at Cornell) who I'd gotten to know quite well during my two years of graduate study. It was they who forwarded a notice about an opportunity with Cornell University's Cooperative Extension as the Director of Public Relations and encouraged me to apply. 

My employment at Cornell University was one of the most rewarding and rich experiences of my professional career. Not only did I get to spend time working with the University's Extension agents and academic professionals I also captured a keen understanding of each of New York state's 58 County Extension offices, their respective elected officials, the people of New York and attended most all the county fairs...as well as the annual state fair in Syracuse. It was here that I was introduced to the profession of public affairs serving in the Government Affairs division at the University and later performing a Cooperative Service Agreement (CSA) as an employee of Cornell with CSREES  in 4-H Youth Development (now USDA's National Institute of Food and Agriculture). 

It's the people connected to Cooperative Extension that make the difference. I met Cathann Kress at Cornell as the Director of 4-H Youth Development and later worked with her at USDA. She now serves as the Vice President for Extension and Outreach at Iowa State University. I worked closely with Kathryn Boor and her Food Safety Lab at Cornell. She was then a professor of food science and I enlisted her to participate in a topical seminar on BioTerrorism with the then Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton. She now serves as the Ronald P. Lynch Dean of Agriculture and Life Sciences at Cornell. For me, these Extension professionals symbolize the greatest asset of the system, its people serving the public needs through research and outreach. Living the land grant mission out loud.

All good things don't have to end, but a family death and a parent in decline necessitated my return South and departure from Cornell. What's the first thing I do when I land in Beaufort, South Carolina? I look up my local agent at Clemson Extension and ask for assistance in getting familiar with my new home town.  

Life continues to intersect with Extension. I served as a board member in its infancy for what is now the most successful farmers market in our region (Farmers Market of Bluffton). Clemson Extension was there providing expertise and assistance in placing the market on the map at its start. I get a dose of the Master Gardner program at the Port Royal Farmer's Market each week. I follow the careers of my former colleagues, applaud the accomplishments of USDA sponsored programs and marvel with pride at the success of the system in connecting its efforts to real people despite a myriad of changes to its structure, budgets and the unfolding times.

From a passion for photography to a profession and livelihood in civic and public affairs to continuing to rely on its people to give me the information I need to be successful, Cooperative Extension one hundred years later delivers the mission of its intent and continues to go on strong.

Happy 100 Years Extension!