I haven’t written much lately. The summer of 2016 has been filled with activities and projects that have dominated my time and consumed my creative energy. It’s all good … just busy.

Much of what I write reflects observations I make and my feelings and thoughts about them. And though I haven’t taken time to commit pencil to paper (or fingers to keyboard), my voyeuristic nature hasn’t been idle. So yesterday, I sat outside on my deck catching rays — pencil and paper in hand — and wrote.

I’ve been to the beach.

Yes, I’ve recently returned from our annual up north trip, spending seven glorious days in Elk Rapids where my morning coffee view included a beautiful beach and the crystal blue water of Lake Michigan. I spent each day of my vacation on that beach, watched every sunset and dug my toes into the soft warm sand every chance I could.

It was a good vacation. I know it was a good vacation because when I got home it took a couple days to scrub the sand out from my toes and skin.

Each morning, I was the first one up, settling onto an Adirondack chair on the side porch of our Victorian rental to drink my coffee and do some observing — or as my Aunt PJ would say ” do some noticin’.”

I “noticed” many families with young kids on the beach, on the playground or in the grassy picnic area nearby. As I have a teenage son and preteen daughter, I am well aware of the fleeting nature of those years with young children clamoring for my attention and calling out “play with me mama.” Though it may seem they will never end and you will never find a moment’s peace — especially when you just sat on your lounge chair and you hear that call to play on the sand, climb on the jungle gym or splash with them in the lake, they really aren’t limitless. One day, they will stop asking. One day before you know it, they will prefer their “thing” to time with mom or dad.

So, as I sat on the porch in the mornings and then later on the beach with my book, I heard those same youthful requests. But, instead of parents racing to the waves for a splash or digging in the sand to create an epic sand castle, I noticed a lot more parents scrolling near their kids than strolling with them.

Now, when my kids were younger, cell phones were for talking on and were typically relegated to the side table on the hotel room or — in early years — a bag in the car. Texting and surfing the web with Google or Apps was unheard of. But, even then, distractions and denials were available. I mean, it was my vacation too … I needed some down time. But I picked my moments for peace and chose to say yes to sand pizzas, making trees for castles and splashing in the waves too.

As I watched, there was a disturbing number of grown ups paying more attention to their screens then what they were strolling by. Too many dads on calls. Too many moms checking Facebook. Too many adults walking their pets while scrolling Twitter.

Guess it’s a sign of the times. But it made me wonder … What are our priorities nowadays? For me, I’d rather experience the moment than “Check In” or Tweet about it. As Aerosmith put it: I don’t wanna miss a thing.

When the day comes that your playful son who used to be an early riser and watch the sun rise by your side prefers to sleep in, hang out on his hammock or go off on a bike ride by himself and your social daughter opts to draw, play Minecraft or FaceTime her friends in her vacation home bedroom, will you experience a Harry Chapin moment with Cat’s In The Cradle running through your mind? Or, will you build those sandcastles and bury your son in the sand during the moments available to you?

As I strolled the beach with my daughter and tried to hit the ball during a game of beach volleyball with my son and his friend, I was grateful for the moments we shared over the years with the sand between our toes. I am grateful they still like to come to the beach and that every summer my son and I have our photo taken at one of the sunsets. I’m grateful he looks forward to this week and plans for that photo with me. I’m grateful my daughter always joins me for that final morning walk on the beach. Oh, my moments with them are different than the days when they were “small.” But we still enjoy our time. I planted the seed that “Connecting” is important. And I continue to make the most of every moment that comes along with them.

I prefer Strolling to Scrolling. With my head bowed too long over my phone, I just might miss something. The best moments can be fleeting. One day, the sand toys won’t make that annual trip to the beach. Make sure they’ve been well used before that happens.

— Jenni 

I read in my son’s high school news publication that stress and anxiety are a reality that today’s students have to face.

Admittedly, it’s been a “few years” since I was in high school. But I remember that time in my life fairly well. I remember feeling “stressed out” on occasion when Judy Lebryk slammed us with a paper, or when my chem experiment had 98% error Again, or when I’d prep for Mr Ellis’ Algebra tests (math was hard!). I remember my brother’s Commodore 64 crashing at Midnight while he was finishing a paper and the drama that followed. And I recall a LOT of homework and hours spent studying — as well as some frustration over grades and general High School angst. But … I don’t remember “Anxiety.”

Furthermore, I don’t recall discussing “Anxiety” with my friends. Heck, if I’m honest, I don’t think I heard the word “Anxiety” until about 10 years ago when I ran smack dab into it. And, I definitely wasn’t in high school at that time.

So, it more than concerns me to learn that according to the American Psychological Association, 48.7% of college students around the country seeks counseling from anxiety-related mental health concerns. In fact, the American Institute of Stress (heck, I didn’t even know there was such a thing) reports that 3 out of 4 doctor visits are stress related.

This article informed me that high school counselors have noted an escalation in stress and anxiety in recent years. And that got me wondering … why IS that? Why is Anxiety running rampant in our high school students … and in our world?

I have my theories, most of them related to the intensifying pace we accept as “normal” and the constant technological and informational bombardment we experience.

We go go go. I go pretty fast myself, from my day job to schlepping a kid somewhere to making dinner to a meeting for my second job to grabbing time with a friend. I juggle house work with work work and emails and messages and keeping track of my kids’ schedules and projects. At times my heart races. And I don’t have to worry about my “future” or which college will let me in. Today’s teens manage a lot more than I ever did.

I’ll date myself when I say I remember the 1 a.m. playing of the Star Spangled Banner and the “white noise” that followed. At that time, TV and all electronic stimuli turned Off. Something that few can say happens anymore. We are perpetually bombarded with light and sound from our cell phones. We spend our days not writing paper memos but starring at a flashing cursor and furiously typing.

I organize events in my “day job.” And I organize my kids events … and my personal activities in my “off hours.” I run between my Chamber job and my Water Works job as well as yoga classes and rehearsal schedules. I have a Google Calendar on-line so I can keep up with not only what I have planned but my son’s film projects and social outings, my husband’s social, Scout and theatre commitments, as well as my daughter’s ballet classes, student council and girl scout meetings and choir practices. Plus, I have a paper calendar to back it up, just in case.

This past weekend, I ran a big event. It’s honestly not a stressful experience — I’m very organized.  Just have lists of things to do to make it happen and run it the day of, a few fires to put out when things don’t go as planned and long, long hours. (Did I say LONG hours?) Anyway, I have to remind myself to do the “normal things” like eat 3 meals and drink water. I’ve paid the price when I didn’t take care of myself. And even when I do, I find that PTED sets in and sends me straight into the darkness.

PTED … Post Traumatic Event Disorder syndrome … is what happens after the stress of an event. I struggle with sleep and find more than a bit of Anxiety surging through my skin.  The only thing I can do is keep perspective …breathe deep, drink milk, eat Peach yogurt and bananas and — when I’m too keyed up to sleep — either read a book or watch TV til fatigue takes over and I come out of the darkness. Two days post event, I’m fine. Like nothing happened. Explaining that I’m in the throws of PTED is hard for those unafflicted.

So … Anxiety. Where is it coming from? Why are our teens so affected by it? How do we stop it? Perhaps it can’t be stopped. So … how do we Manage it?

For me … I do yoga. A lot of yoga. And Barre3. I walk and take deep breaths — and I don’t scroll Twitter, Text Messages or Facebook during that time. I drink less caffeine. I diffuse and use Young Living essential oils that support natural relief. I have a playlist to wind down with. I generally put my phone away when I get home and I spend very little time on my computer after work hours. Instead I hang out and read or binge watch episodes of Charmed or Ghost Whisperer with my daughter as we snuggle on the couch. Or I play with my cat. Some days, I meet a friend for a drink or just to hang out. Other days, I color. Or, I write … using paper and a pencil.

I unplug. And it helps. Most of the time. Sometimes the only solution is to lay low until I can come out of the darkness. Hide from the noise or demands of others. Other times it helps to talk to someone — a friend or even a therapist — about the surge of emotion and the anxiety it whips into a frenzy.  To feel the touch of a hand or the warmth of someone holding onto you until you can stop vibrating.

Sometimes there are prescriptions or medications necessary — and as Kristen Bell recently stated — there should be no stigma associated with self-care. Anxiety and the panic or depression it elicits can be paralyzing and it’s difficult to cope alone.

Our world Buzzes. And Anxiety is the pollution from that Buzzing. Breathe deep and know that you aren’t alone.

— Jenni

The Detroit Zoo is not far from the street where I live. I’ve visited there regularly for years — have been a member for years. As they were growing up, my kids and I spent a lot of time there. My son had his first PB&J in his stroller while we watched the construction of the Polar Bear exhibit. Though at the time, I’m pretty sure he was more excited about the trucks than the animals.

As they grew older, I packed lunches and took them in a wagon. We’d arrive at the zoo when it opened and take the train to the back. Pretty much the first thing my son asked was when and where we were going to eat lunch. Lunch at the zoo always happened early in the trip. We’d then make our way from the back to the front, stopping at different exhibits along the way.

The Zoo has changed a lot over the years. The Elephants are gone. We have a Kangaroo exhibit and a chance to feed the giraffes. There are a lot of new food areas and the play area — where my kids and I spent a ton of time — is dramatically different and smaller. My kids have grown and so we spend less time there. But recently they added a beautiful new Penguinarium. So today, I decided to go to the zoo.

I arrived with thousands. I’ve never seen so many people at the gate. The road into the entrance was backed up onto the freeway. At 10:10am — 10 minutes after the official opening — I found one of the few remaining parking spaces near the top of the parking deck. I parked and headed in — without the cooler, wagon or stroller I’d taken for so many years. It was just me. And as I successfully crowd-walked my way to the entrance and into the Zoo, I happily gazed around to take it all in.

It was a beautiful day and there were so many families. So many school groups. So many kids. I couldn’t help but smile. I remembered those days … those end of the year school trips with kids full of boundless energy. And, as I donned my headphones, selected a playlist and began my walk toward the back, I felt joyful. I was at the zoo.

There isn’t one time I go to the zoo, though, where a memory of a play I was part of in college doesn’t come to my mind. It was called Zoo Story — a one act drama written by Edward Albee. My friend Donna directed it. My friends Matt and Gary played the two male characters. And my job as “Prop Master” was to make a sack of blood that Matt would wear until the final moments when he would bleed out on stage.

The play debuted in 1960 and explored themes of isolation, loneliness, miscommunication, social disparity and dehumanization in a commercial world. And days after the two tragedies in Orlando, these themes and that story rattle about in my mind and remind me that those themes still exist and that they have terrible consequences. See Albee worked his ideas out in the Theatre of the Absurd where goofy people act nuts and do really crazy things. But the Theatre of the Absurb is … life. It’s all around us. It’s prevalently displayed in the hate, in the intolerance and in the technologically-centered, disconnected society we have become.

In the play, there’s the self-satisfied, bourgeois Peter, who is just sitting on a bench minding his own business, and then there is Jerry the outsider — the outcast who disrupts his life and sets all the crazy in motion. It’s so normal as it begins that I see glimmers of it in modern life.

“I took the subway down to the Village so I could walk all the way up Fifth Avenue to the zoo. It’s one of those things a person has to do; sometimes a person has to go a very long distance out of his way to come back a short distance correctly.” – Jerry

Okay … so back to the Zoo today. I stood a while and watched the Tiger. He was napping at first … seems a lot of the animals there are when I visit. But as I stood there, he awoke and gave himself a bath much the same way as my cat does … she is just smaller with fewer teeth.

But as I watched, kids shouted at the tiger, trying to draw its attention. To get it to entertain them or smile for the camera or other such weirdness. The kids yelled at these innocent animals who are trapped in a compound, commanding them to entertain them. And I thought about how crazy it is to cage wild beasts for the entertainment of the human population… the bourgeoisee … and well, it got me thinking about Albee and Zoo Story and how the very different characters in that play came together to remind us how separated and crazy we all are. That we are people who need people … and who desperately reach out to find acceptance and understanding. And we are aggressive and unkind to anything or anyone different who isn’t doing what we think they should be doing.

And I thought about my friends Donna and Matt, who I don’t see very often, but who played a really significant role in my life for many years — who gave me the gifts of acceptance and understanding during the tumultuous “college years” as well as more than a few years after graduation — and who still hold a special place in my heart today.

And I thought about how sad it is that there is so much hate that people like Jerry in the play have to reach out to find someone to talk to … to connect to. That they have to justify themselves or yell at others or or pull a knife or shoot people to get attention. And I thought about all the hate that prompts actions of distruction.  I thought about Jerry and Peter fighting for a bench … and the blood … and Jerry’s final word.

“Oh, Peter, I was so afraid I’d drive you away. [He laughs as best he can.] You don’t know how afraid I was you’d go away and leave me. And now I’ll tell you what happened at the zoo. I think … I think this is what happened at the zoo … I think. I think that while I was at the zoo I decided that I would walk north … northerly, rather … until I found you … or somebody … and I decided that I would talk to you … I would tell you things … and things that I would tell you would … Well, here we are. You see ? Here we are. But … I don’t know … could I have planned all this? No … no, I couldn’t have. But I think I did…. You won’t be coming back here any more, Peter; you’ve been dispossessed. You’ve lost your bench, but you’ve defended your honour.” – Jerry

See … I’ve been to the zoo. And despite all the joy I feel walking about in the lovely summer weather gazing at beautiful animals and energetic children — as well as recalling the many happy moments I’ve shared there with my kids on the train, in the play area and among the animals, the Zoo also makes me a feel a little uncomfortable. My enjoyment of creatures confined to cages unsettles me. And the sometimes aggressive nature of the kids — and the parents as well — as they shout at the animals and each other upsets me.

And I think of Orlando. And wonder if the disconnect and the hatred and the visciousness began with someone feeling isolated like the characters Albee wrote. If it began with yelling at people or things that don’t do what someone decides they should be doing. I see resemblances to a play and a world where characters lives were shattered with bloodshed and how it all began with inability to communicate.

I see brokenness in people, relationships, and our world. I read it in Zoo Story … I see it at the Zoo.

Like the character of Jerry in the play, I’ve gone a long distance to come back to my point. See, Zoo Story the play brought me in contact with people that positively impacted my life … Matt and Donna specifically … and crafted lifelong memories of laughter and more and fused me to something bigger with lasting power. So we CAN choose to connect and find commonalities. To put down our cell phones to gaze into the face of someone we care for. To make time to understand instead of separate from someone different.

To stop yelling at the animals and just enjoy time in the sunshine at the zoo …

— Jenni

I bought a new rug yesterday at Home Depot. The one near the back door of “my” sunroom was fraying and regularly stressing my vacuum.

I had been walking through Home Depot, pretty satisfied that I could remember where to find duct tape and zip ties (for Royal Oak in Bloom set up, seriously!) On the way out, I came across this small bin with stripped mats. One caught my eye … it had this Frozen Blue aka turquoise color along with tweed variations of grey. It struck me And it was on clearance. So I grabbed it.

A new mat had been on my Home Improving List for a while  I put off buying one because either the price wasn’t right or the mat didn’t “grab me.”

So excited, I cut off the tag in the car before I walked in the door and an unfurled it proudly to take its new place.

Problem: It was WAY too long. It wasn’t door size at all. Damn! I guess I didn’t look at sizing before I selected it.

So now what to do …

See, I liked it immediately when I saw it. You might say I was drawn to it. And the fact of the matter is … I like it still. So it doesn’t fit perfectly. So it’s technically the wrong size for the space. It looks great to me. My cat even likes it. She rolled all over it and sat on it as soon as I set it out. She stretches out and sleeps on it.

So, I chose to make it work. To keep it exactly where it is. It may not technically be “right” for the space. But it’s the right rug for me.

Life is like that. There isn’t one cookie cutter answer that’s “correct” for all. Each one of us is an individual with unique needs, goals, desires, talents and personalities. We need different things to be all we are meant to be … We only restrict and limit ourselves by accepting or allowing a “one size fits all” perspective to dominate our ability to live honestly, authentically and joyfully.

So there it is. People are different. What they need and what works best for them is … well … up to them. And if they want to use a rug that’s a little too big but they like it, well I say live and let live. As Prince would say, we are “gathered together to get thru this thing called life” … how we do it, well, that’s a personal choice. It’s okay to Go Crazy and buy a rug just because you like the way it looks and find the way that works for you to keep it in your life.

As for Ellie and me, we like the rug. So it’s staying …

— Jenni

Being a Salmon is frickin’ exhausting.

I mean, think about it … You’re this shiny silver fish with a mission and a calling. You’re destined to swim upstream, against the current, to find your truth. You don’t just troll about in a lake, happily oblivious unless some hook descends into your midst to disrupt life as you know it. No, when you are born you leave your birthplace and travel to the big salty sea. And then, in the prime of life when most fish are settling in and enjoying algae and plant cocktails, you intentionally take on the most difficult trip of all, swimming upstream through danger and against the tide.

It’s the most authentic journey of any creature alive. And salmon never question the danger or difficulty. They know what they have to do for themselves and the good of their species. And they just do it.

Salmon are fascinating creatures. They are born in fresh water. But their natural inclination guides them to migrate, leaving their birthplace to “grow up” in the ocean. They mature there for 2-4 years. Then, after living the good life, their instinct calls them home to the exact stream where they were born. And they remember how to get there!

They then undertake a challenging trip upstream to return to the rivers of their birth, dodging predators, leaping up waterfalls, and fighting the current every inch of the way. It’s an exhaustive trip and about 50% of salmon die within a few weeks after the trek.

Salmon are passionate creatures. They have the courage to swim upstream and their inner compass directs them and keeps them strong despite difficulties along the journey.

I imagine their trip, water constantly battering at them and trying to force them backwards … to give up … to stick to the status quo. And, I find myself relating to these crazy fish and their instinct to fight their way to where they want to be. They are brave, strong and focused and they refuse to give up when things get tough. They fight rushing waves to get the place their very essence tells them they need to be.  And they never question this calling.

The journey of a Salmon is a true and compelling reflection of the path of living an authentic life. They don’t give up when challenges arise. They just keep swimming until they reach the place they know in their heart they need to be.

Do you ever feel like a Salmon? Like you’re swimming upstream, fighting the rush of a raging stream and dodging predators? You willingly take this journey while doing all you can to avoid bald eagles with sharp beaks trying to separate you from your fellow salmon and sport fisherman seeking to snare you in their nets. Well … you get the idea. But … all the while, there are these Trout swimming along beside you… oblivious and content with the status quo, drinking the KoolAid, going with the flow and seeing no reason to change.

The way I see it, I’m a Salmon. My passionate nature takes me upstream sometimes, fighting bears and obstacles, and I get frustrated by those passive, complacent Trout. Passion has a price though. It separates you. Fighting to get where you feel you need to be isn’t easy. Dorothy’s Yellow Brick Road looked pretty but it was filled with challenges along the way. Consider some of the most famous Salmon in history … Martin Luther King and John F. Kennedy, George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and Nelson Mandela, Sally Ride and Amelia Earhart, Anne Frank and Rosa Parks … and the list goes on.

I’ve come to terms with the knowledge that I’m a Salmon. my instinctual nature calls me make my world the best it can be and sometimes that means I have to swim upstream to be the authentic person I am … to be true to my calling.  I’m not easy going. And I don’t sit idly by, swimming with the Trout, when I see something that needs attention. I speak up. I fight for things, causes people (etc) I believe in, even when that means I’m truly swimming upstream.

It’s hard at times. It’s tiring to fight for your truth and what you believe to be best for yourself, those you care for and those you simply encounter in the Trout Stream. Not everyone wants to be a Salmon. Some are happy swimming along undercover. But I put myself out there and don’t tend to go quietly.

Oh, there are times I find myself floating along and hoping some bear or bald eagle doesn’t notice that I’m weak and slightly broken after that last waterfall I leapt or rock bed I fought. I wish — at times — I was better at merrily, merrily going with the flow.

But, it’s just against my nature …

— Jenni

.