In the days before Thanksgiving, social media features “Thankful For” messages and images. As we prepare for the inundation of TV ads promoting everything from chocolate diamonds to the purchase of a new Lexus for that ‘special someone,’ Thanksgiving has always seemed the simple holiday where you gather with friends and loved ones and just spend time eating and talking. However, in the wake of the loss of a friend of mine to a horrible battle with cancer, my first thought that comes to mind is deep gratitude for my Health. And I stall there.

Things are different today, with this loss so fresh. Facebook featured photos and tributes to her yesterday which made me smile and cry at the same time. And as the Rain concludes its day of cleansing my view and the sun can be seen from my window-filled room, the moments in my life in which I give thanks play like the iTunes photo library which somehow automatically begins on my PC without any direction from me.

I find gratitude in the littlest moments that many may overlook or take for granted. Of course, I am grateful for my Family and Friends. And my Faith. These three Fs define me. They are my rock and source of strength on good days and bad. But see, that’s something that I recognize … sometimes the greatest moments came about with a mix of grey or darkness alongside.

Life is a blend of these things. It’s not all Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice. It’s complicated and messy. And the things I am most grateful for and treasure most are like a blend of sparkly white snow with dead fall leaves intermixed into their drifts.

I am grateful for my Cat … well, Paige’s cat who shares her time and love with me too. Ellie wakes me around 6:28am daily. She snuggles at my feet each night and utters her soft morning purr to tell me it’s time to rise and shine. To be honest, I’m so used to this morning ritual that I’m conditioned to wake up moments before that purr-alarm. I look forward to our morning snuggle.

I am grateful for my Theatre moments. So many come to mind … I’ve had a Bountiful stage career so far. I’m grateful for moments on the Mountain, in the Rabbit Hole, at the Piano and on the Footbridge. All night cast parties and even the rough go in the ER, which showed me how much love comes from a theatre family. I’m grateful for a voice teacher who helped me believe in myself and Charles Dickens, who didn’t finish one of his books and brought me Moonfall and a love story that shaped my life. I’m grateful for Oscar Wilde and a few brilliant farces that gave me fun costumes and introduced me to new friends with staying power. I’m grateful to cake wars and a clever director with a vision and hope for a little story. I’m doubly grateful for a Hat Shop and some Drowsy moments. And for I’m grateful for a poem written once upon a time that captured a journey. I’m grateful that there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamed up in your philosophy. And I’m grateful that Shakespeare and theatre have touched not only my own life, but my kids lives — altering them is such incredible and awesome ways.

Perhaps most importantly, I’m grateful to all the friends I met on the stage … princes and husbands, girlfriends, cousins and directors, sisters, fairy tale characters and children of my heart. People who’ve come and gone, but left footprints on my soul and those that are still around and sharing life off the stage with me.

I’m grateful for my husband’s amazing voice — which so many people have been able to enjoy — and the devotion he shares not only with his family but with the Swim Team and Boy Scouts. I’m grateful for his cooking talents, his tech support and his love, patience and encouragement. And I’m grateful his Lions have won a few games this year!

I’m grateful for the people who touch the minds and hearts of my kids … a lovely girl who shares time, a love of music and film and a talent for filmmaking with my son.  A girl who makes him happy and smile, yet keeps him thinking and on his toes. I’m grateful for a trio of girls who have known each other since kindergarten and are bonded in such a joyful, dramatic way. I’m grateful my daughter found her voice and loves using it. And, I’m grateful for the teachers who shape them and help them discover and celebrate the best of who they are, especially Mr. Conrad, Miss Jen, Miss Claire and Mr Pavlovich.

I’m grateful for good books that take me on adventures, a trip to Disney and “Paris” with a dear friend; phone calls to Chicago that ground me, heal me and make me laugh; long conversations with my sister and brother and the times we spend together; outings with my sol-sister; coffee mornings with my Mom and times on the golf course or talks over beer at Muldoons with my Daddy. I’m grateful for breakfast at Walts with my Mom and Dad and girls nights out — or in the hot tub! I’m grateful for knitting nights and times I tried to learn pool and enjoyed thoughtful conversations. I’m grateful for the friends that were — far away friends or those with whom I’ve parted ways. Like the messy leaves in the snow, they are all part of me and I’m grateful for what we shared.

I’m grateful for Manicures and Mimosas. For Yoga and my instructors, Barre3 workouts that energize me, and Starbucks coffee. I’m grateful for sharpened pencils and blank pages in my journal. Holding hands. Long walks. My essential oils. A bench by the water. For nieces who share their dreams with me. For Alice in Wonderland and my adventurous, explorative nature. For Traverse City trips and walks on the beach. For Boozy-Boozy times and Boat trips. And the photos that remind me of everything past — good, bad, happy, sad, joyful, ugly, broken, healed, big, little …

Life is made up of all this. And as I think of my friend Kelly, who is surely singing in the heavenly chorus and how much she will be missed, I celebrate one special song we sang together.

Years ago, we were in a production called “Sweet & Hot.” Kelly sang all the lovely ballads while I performed the quirky numbers, learning to scat, sing on a bar — literally, and dress up like Lydia the Tattooed Lady. But at the end, we donned these beautiful dresses and sang an Acapella version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow to close the show. It was stunning and brought the audience to their feet every night. We stood together there in a tight arc and shared our love of music. And it was glorious. That is how I will choose to remember a brave, talented, beautiful, loving mother, wife, actress, singer and friend.

She’s over the rainbow now. And we mere mortals are left to dream and explore our philosophies about Heaven and Earth. So, as I enjoy a special Maxwell House Moment with my mom in the coming weeks, I will be grateful for ALL the moments I’ve experienced with some very special people, performing and rehearsing musicals and plays, working on knitting projects and enjoying conversations.  I’ll think of a father-daughter dance, a song my husband sang, holding my daughter’s hand as I walked her to school, long-talks and hikes in Ashville with my son, sitting and drinking hot cocoa while I watched the moon on the water as well the goodbyes said and losses experienced this past year, the tears shed and the laughter laughed, a power outage and a college grad party laced with photos and memories of times gone by.

And I’ll be grateful.

                                                                                                                                            — Jenni

No, you didn’t get the job.

No, you didn’t get that role.

No, you didn’t do that right.

No, you need to come up with a different approach.

No, I can’t see you any more.

No, it’s not good enough.

No, that’s not what I want.

Recently, my son went off to college. To say things changed around my house would be an understatement. So much of the past year was wrapped up in his Senior Year activities, ceremonies, events and “lasts.” Packing him off to school was an adventure. And it left an empty bedroom and a quieter calendar. My daughter hasn’t ramped up to the busy schedule yet. She’s in the tween years where she spends more time in her room than with her parents. And my husband is rehearsing one of his favorite roles in a local musical theatre production.

So, I’ve got time on my hands. And since I’m a restless spirit that likes to be physically, mentally and emotionally active, I don’t sit still very well … or for very long.

I had an idea about how to fill those hours — a project that would present me with a new challenge and a more active schedule. So, I tossed my hat into the ring. Sometimes, though, the answer is not yes. And our best laid plans do not come to fruition. It’s not necessarily a good or bad thing; it’s just what it is. And as humans when we encounter a stop or a detour sign, we have to figure out what to do. It is interesting time for me. And, in the midst of it, I stumbled upon a quote I’d written down once upon a time …

Not sure where I found that quote, but it stuck with me. I keep a journal of quotes that resonate and reflect on them from time to time. As I’ve had more reflection time lately, I was browsing the journal and this one got me thinking.

How many opportunities in my life — in your life — have begun with the word No? Perhaps you applied for a job, but it didn’t come thru. I recall wanting this one job SO BADLY. The application process was delayed and another interview came through, landing me an offer. I debated … do I hold out for something I think I want that might come through or let go, trust this new, unexpected opportunity and move forward. I closed my eyes and jumped. And my time with Magic Line, Inc. was seriously the greatest six years in my career. It was a time of growth, learning, discovery, accomplishment, success and joy. I planned an event at the Palmer House Hilton, for goodness sake! Anyway, that position defined my career direction and I am forever grateful for that opportunity.

A couple years ago, I auditioned for a play. I thought it was a good fit and I went prepared. Didn’t get the part … a friend of mine was cast though. As we drank beers and ate truffle fries together after the “casting call,” I remember a few tears of disappointment slipping out. But, there was another show and another role that I had been preparing for at the time as well. Another part that intrigued me. And, as I brought my A-game to that competitive, challenging audition, something clicked and I got the part. Gotta admit, I had more fun in Don’t Dress For Dinner than I can type on these pages. And I’m as grateful for the No as I am for the Yes and the friendship that evolved with my director Rachel.

The No’s come. They come in various forms and ways. Sometimes they are presented in a kind, understanding manner. Sometimes they are delivered crisply over the phone or by text, letter or email. Sometimes they come face to face. Sometimes they occur in the silence of an unreturned call or message.  Sometimes you want to ask questions, but you’re stopped short. Sometimes you just never understand why you get them. But, you have to go on. I’ve quoted The Rolling Stones before. Think you know what I’m saying …

“You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes … You just might find … You get what you need.”

Sometimes it takes a No to propel us forward. Sometimes a No gets us to the next better thing … or to the right thing seven things down from that. It’s not always formulaic, and it doesn’t always happen immediately. But, we learn from Nos. We evolve from Nos. We grow sad and strong from Nos. We mourn and we lament when we get them. We rant and rave as well. But we change from Nos. A dead end is a dead end. We have to turn onto a new path when one road closes. We can’t just stop and curl into the fetal position … well, okay, we can. I have. But only for a little while.

Life is full of Yes. Life is full of No. And sometimes to get to a Yes, you have to experience a whole lotta No. I like to think — I choose to believe — that each No offers an opportunity for growth and a gentle push onto a different path that I might not have chosen should the word Yes have come. That I need both in my life to help me become the best Me I can be. I  may not always like to get them, but a No is necessary to shape my character and help me simmer for a while. To make me stronger … get me to the next right place.

With a No, my life does not end. I am not broken, destroyed, lost or set out to sea to drift along the currents.  I am simply taking a path that has redirected me to something better … something different … something … New.

–– Jenni

WTH?

No, I mean seriously — and I’m not trying to be unkind — what the heck is wrong with you?

My daughter sat me down yesterday to interview me about five events with “historical significance” in my lifetime. Criteria required large-scale impact and change so getting cast in a play, swimming with the dolphins, my wedding day and the birth of my kids were not eligible. My first thought then, of course, was the Apollo 11 Moon Landing on my 3rd birthday. (Yeah, okay, do the math. I’m good with it.) But from there, the events were all tragic ones for our country and our world.

Since when did shootings, bombings, taking hostages, self-righteously threatening lives, and flying planes into buildings ever solve problems? I’m not trying to belittle anything. Just breaking down the topic to get a better grip on the mindset in our world today.

Bombings at an Ariana Grande concert and shootings in Vegas … what did they get anyone but death and sadness? What did they say? What did they accomplish? When did demonstrations etched in violence ever solve a social issue? And who believes Hate and Unforgiveness allow humankind to move forward emotionally or physically?

We need to find a Release for our intense anger, festering resentment, fear, frustration, sadness, intolerance and anxiety. But we need to choose a Healthy way to express our thoughts and feelings — one without guns and bombs. A Healthy way to move past differences. A Healthy way to get our point across. A Healthy way to foster change when change is needed. And, we need less Blame and more Acceptance.

I think back to an Historically Significant moment that was NOT during my lifetime, thank you very much, but that I studied in school. Rosa Parks decision to sit at the front of the bus. She didn’t shoot the idiots who wanted to send her to the back. She didn’t even shout obscenities or threaten to seek out and harm their next of kin. She sat down, quietly. And that incident started a ball rolling with more power than a gunshot.

One of the other incidents I mentioned to my daughter was Watergate. No guns there. This was something she hadn’t heard of. To me it is historically significant because that event originated our distrust and scrutiny of the White House and our leaders. Watergate turned the tide on the power of the press, for better and for worse.

The others I selected, you ask? The Assassination Attempt on Ronald Reagan, the Iranian Hostage Crisis and the Paris Bombings. I thought of Columbine and the many school shootings. I even thought of the Assassination of John Lennon and the deaths of Prince and David Bowie, all life altering historically significant events to me.  Sadly, I came up with very few positively focused occurrences that altered life as I know it, with exception of our country’s election of the first African American president which to me defined Hope in the future of mankind — no matter your politics.

It’s time to be Brave, people. It’s time to take a stand against this trend. It’s time to grow up and express Kindness and Courage over Hate and Intolerance. It’s time to Forgive people who hurt us. It’s time to let things go instead of hanging on to prejudice and the past. We may never see eye to eye on some issues. I may dislike what you have to say.  But pulling out a Gun will not solve the bigger problem. And stoking the fire of Hate will not build bridges and help us move forward.

Pretty sure if the Founding Fathers knew guns were going to be used to arbitrarily, they might have clarified the “right to bear arms.” Clearly mankind has some issues with self-control. Guns don’t kill people. People kill people. Yeah, yeah I know that. But rapid fire machine guns in the hands of the public. Not sure I get the need …

Anyway …

I’m going to take a stand. I’m moving forward. I choose to Forgive and Let Go of past hurts and unkindness, past grievances and slights. No, I may not choose to renew relationships that have damaged or affected me in negative ways. But, the slate is clean. The past is the past and I will no longer allow it to frighten me or hold me back. I won’t walk on eggshells.

We all have people and occurrences that have caused us pain. It’s not just Vegas and Columbine that spread Hate. But we can choose our response. Choose our actions. Choose to rise above or move past them. The misguided individuals who shot up schools, bombed a Paris subway and concert, shot up San Bernadino, Las Vegas and the Orlando bar, and flew planes into the Twin Towers were angry and chose to punish innocents in a violent way. Their message of Hate was clear. But, what else did that action say? What can we do in the face of so much anger? What positive changes occurred in response to these acts of violence? I can’t think of any. Except that it brought people together, made us aware of the power of hate, and invited us to choose another way.

But, did we?

That’s the world in which my kids are growing up in. That’s the world where people argue on Facebook through “social media” and belittle others on television. That’s the world where teachers can’t punish or correct students without worrying that angry parents will confront them. That’s the world where every day I send my daughter to school and I get to worry about what might happen to her there.

One day, Paige’s kids will interview her about five events with “historical significance” in her lifetime. My Hope is that her answer has more Moon Landings, fewer shootings, more tolerance and appreciation of individuality, and less violence.

Dear World … get it together. If not for me, for the next generation. Put away the guns and the hate. And start building the bridge to Forgiveness and Acceptance.

— Jenni

Several years ago, I performed in a Joyce Carol Oates play entitled “I Stand Before You, Naked.” (Now don’t go off on a tangent here. It was not a nudest piece!) The script featured a series of monologues — the stories of some serious screwed up people.

I recall the essence of my own monologue, the story of a repressed, socially awkward woman who had begun writing to and formed an attachment with an emprisoned serial killer. She — I — married him and defended him during my stage time, despite his horrific crimes. Though I don’t remember the other stories and characters, they were all seriously … well, let’s just keep this G-rated and say “messed up.”

One thing I recall very clearly is that despite our screwed up psyches, we uttered our truth without subtext. We had no filters and no layers. We were who we were and we didn’t need to apologize or hide. We showed our truest selves without shame.

But in today’s reality, many among us have learned to be Tentative, with layers and layers keeping others out.  They are layered to hide feelings and thoughts in case others don’t like them. Some of them — it might even be you or me — are like an onion, hiding truths so deeply we become a mystery even to ourselves and battle warring emotions and desires. Some among us speak in half-truths, hiding genuine feelings or thoughts from those who might not like what we think, believe or have to say. From those who might dislike or judge us. Layers become an M&M protective coating, sheltering us from cruelty, unkindness and an unforgiving world.

Some say what is expected. Correct responses and rapid agreement prevent discord or arguments. It’s easier to avoid conflict. Some even manifest this thinking in layering the clothing they wear, mirroring their complex psyche. Their appearance to the world hidden along with their deepest thoughts, beliefs, idiosyncrasies, uniqueness, quirkiness, etc. They fear — like middle school students — they won’t be accepted if they don’t go with the flow and keep their heads down.

I don’t know when this begins in our wacky society. People put it all out there on Social Media yet hide behind technology in doing so.  As children, we are uninhibited, spouting our thoughts without subtext. We like or don’t like. We want or don’t want. Very simple. But somewhere along the line we meet Fear and Judgement in a dark alley, they whisper doubt into our ears and we begin to hide … to layer.

How much simpler it would be if we were authentic and genuine with each other. There would be better understanding and less buried subtext.

When I prepare for an audition, I review character lines and break apart monologues. And you know what I look for? The subtext. The feelings, thoughts and words not written but spinning around in the back of a character’s psyche. For nothing is as black and white as it appears on the page.

Oh, I know some of our layers are designed to protect others. And I’m not for a moment suggesting we let it all loose without regard for the people who surround us. I’ve read posts about letting go and caring for ourselves above all else, without consideration for those in our path or surrounding us — the people who love and are connected to us in some way. I honor the idea of self-care, I really, really do. Yet I can’t embrace or get behind the  “damn the torpedoes full speed ahead”  approach that blasts and shatters esteem or relationships with people in our paths in our effort to get our truths known. We need to display a bit more regard and grace than that. Can’t we find a way to be true to our deepest needs, beliefs, thoughts, ideas and selves without dismissing the needs thoughts, beliefs, feelings and ideas etc of others as “their problem?”

My faith-based upbringing can’t support unkindness. I truly believe we can find ways to speak our truths and peel back the layers without hurting another. Kindness is crucial in our world. It’s a Golden Rule.

Perhaps the beginning of all this layering goes back to the origin of our species. No, I’m not talking Darwin but Genesis. Adam and Eve once walked in the garden naked and at ease with the world. But a little bit of extra Apple-infused knowledge and they discovered deceit, the seduction of overthinking, and the doubt of acceptance. And they hid.

So here we are. Layered up. Onions.

It’s the pitfall … the thinking of Admiral Jessup in “A Few Good Men.” Remember the scene? When pushed he exclaimed to the courtroom: “Truth? You want the Truth? Well you can’t handle the Truth.”

Perhaps we can’t handle it, bluntly spilled out like blood from a knife wound. We’re not equipped for it after years of following scripts and tip-toeing around societal expectations and norms. We fall back and hide subtext along with our authenticity and deepest thoughts. We wouldn’t be loved if we spoke them. We wouldn’t be accepted. Heck, we may have buried them so deeply that we aren’t even sure what they are anymore.

But one day, I will know, even as I am known. For now, I see Through a Glass, Darkly; but then face to face. Now I know in part; but then I shall know, even as I am known (1 Cor. 13:12).

Layers. Subtext. Onions. Perhaps that’s why peeling onions makes us cry. There’s a lot inside an onion. Sometimes it’s too much. Sometimes you can only take a little at a time. But, as a Curious sort, I have to try to peel …

— Jenni

Many people think of January 1st as launching the “new year.” Why people choose a dreary midwinter date as the reset button and line it with resolutions, I’ll never understand.

For me, the “New Year” arrives in September with back-to-school days and the beginning of the fall season, where life speeds up after the lazy days of summer. When darkness holds sway a bit longer in the morning. When the days grow crisper and the sky is painted that silvery blue color.

I’ve always enjoyed the back-to-school prep. With it came shopping for new clothes, new shoes, that carefully selected first day ensemble as well as … school supplies!

In Elementary School, I recall going to Hooks Drug Store to buy the required yellow cardboard supply box — you know, the one with the school bus on the top where we put our watercolor paint set, crayons, and all important #2 yellow pencils.

In Junior High and High School, we ditched the yellow box in favor of a backpack and a decorative 3-ring Mead binder — the cool location to store notes from your many classes. It was expertly organized with the flick of a folder and even held lined paper.  And who could resist the 4-color Bic pen where you could select your writing color with a flick of the Bic! Yet still, the teachers required those yellow #2 Ticonderoga pencils.

In College, I chose college ruled spiral notebooks. Albion had a terrific selection with the gold school crest on the cover and matching pocket folders. No longer did I receive a “supply list,” so I selected my own writing tools: Uniball .5 micro rollerball pens in blue, black, green and red … and #2 Ticonderoga yellow pencils.

Those #2 pencils have served me since grade school. My kids have them on their supply lists and generously allow me to sharpen them at the beginning of every school year. There’s a therapeutic feeling from transforming dull pencils to a super sharp state, spinning the crank on the handle (no electric sharpener for me!) and feeling the resistance as I take the lead to a poke your eye out state.

Even though my school days are behind me, I buy myself a new set of pencils at the beginning of every school year. Mine aren’t necessarily Ticonderoga #2 yellow though. My style varies. This year, I picked up a set of navy pencils with silver stars from Barnes & Noble. I use them, along with my blue .5 uniball pens, to write lists, log thoughts and ideas in my journal and even track knitting rows and additions to my calendar and Franklin Planner. I’m particular about my writing instruments.

A few years ago, I gifted a teacher friend a set of super-sharpened pencils and a notebook to begin his school year. He too found delight in these staple items we traveled with since childhood. So, I’m not alone. The #2 pencil brings joy to a writer’s hand.

See, we tell our stories with such tools. And, no matter the hype January receives, we truly begin our stories anew each fall, reinventing ourselves with an empty notebook or on blank sheets of lined notepaper that wait for a #2 pencil to document our discoveries and adventures, our thoughts and ideas, our reports, experiments and observations.

Okay, my son may opt to take notes on his Mac, but he won’t leave home without a set of .7 PaperMate Clear Point Pencils and Pilot G2 .7 black gel pens. (.5 is to fine. .7 is just right!) My daughter requires a new set of colored pencils each September along with color coordinated, matching pocket folders and notebooks. To tell their stories, they need the right tools.

So to heck with January 1 and making resolutions on a gloomy mid-winter day when I’m recovering from holiday extravagance or a late night NYE party. The weather has turned here. Change is upon us. Whether you have kids or not, a new Chapter begins with the crisp air and shorter days. Can’t you feel it? Why not take the time now to reflect … to set intentions. To plan. To write down your hopes for the days ahead.

What will you craft on that blank sheet of paper? What do you dream? What do you long for? What do you want to change? What are you trying to let go of so you can move forward? What no longer serves you and can be left out of the next chapter? What is priceless and must travel with you to complete the next phase of your journey?

Will you use colored pencils or colored pens — or perhaps even watercolor paints  — to craft your story? Will you write it with a pen — Blue or Black? Or a #2 pencil? You decide how you express your creativity and your truth for this “new year.”

The school bell tolls. And it tolls for thee. So determine what is important to you, decide what you want to say, select the tools to help you create your story … and begin!

What will your new year bring?

                                                                                                                       — Jenni

A friend and I have a favorite bar. When we go out on a girls night, it’s our go-to spot. Truffle fries to die for. Planned to met there for drinks last week. Googled to check specials. The site read: Location Permanently Closed.  Huh???

Watched a sequel to a mini-series I’d enjoyed. Discovered the majority of leading roles had been recast. Spent most of the premiere episode on-line trying to figure out what the hell happened to the original cast. No answer to be found.

I hate that. Not change. That’s expected. It’s the not knowing that gets to me. The unexplained closing. The recasting of roles. The friend who fades from my life with little more than a text. The silence from people, apparently offended or upset but perhaps just busy, without knowing what I did or could do to salvage or strengthen the relationship. The emails or requests that go unanswered. The messages left with no returned call.

I’m a curious sort, I’ll admit. And a Type A — okay AAA — organizer. I like things tidy.  I follow-up with thank you notes. I save photos and memorabilia. I keep connected to the people I care for. I even write letters, stamping them with a 49.5 cent stamp and sending them out in the mail. I enjoy closure when a project is finished and ticking off tasks when it is in process. I don’t leave anything hanging …

I did poorly in my Chem class in high school because the experiments didn’t do what they were supposed to do. I ended up with 102% error — which is highly unlikely but I did it anyway — and my Chem teacher Todd Bennethum just shook his head at my results. Even he was stymied. Why? No one could tell me. Gotta say, I didn’t love that class.

We all form expectations, relying on a logical flow. We press a button, the TV turns on. We log into an app, certain info pops onto our screens. We nurture our kids, we anticipate love, listening and respect in return. We form a connection with special people, we expect kindness, caring and authenticity and we give it.  Oh, we run into problems with all of the above at times. But we keep Tech Support on speed dial and talk through things with people important to us.

I once read that to maintain a successful relationship, three things are key.

• Unconditional Acceptance
• Rose-Colored Glasses
• Lowered Expectations

In other words, accepting the people and situations in our lives for who they are and what they offer without going all cray-cray. Looking at the people and seeing the best in them, not creating glaring issues or dwelling on flaws or slights (imagined or otherwise). And lowering our expectations and avoiding unattainable ideals to set up people and relationships for success.

Okay. Gotta be honest. When it comes to people, I do have expectations. But I keep them simple. Perhaps asking for kindness, communication, a call back, a timely (doesn’t have to be immediate) response to a text, invitation or message, a “touch” or face to face time every now and then is unrealistic and places too high a demand on them. Sorry.  I ask no less of myself! But … since I am that Type A — okay, AAA — person, perhaps it could be suggested that what seems simple, common courtesy to me is a demand to others.  But dammit, when I care, I care deeply and I want to spend time with the people who matter most. If they choose to be my friend, I’d expect nothing less. And if they need something from me, I hope they know I’m here for them as well. But, the not knowing when people drift away leaves me wondering what I did and if I could have done something differently.

I find myself reviewing conversations and moments. Did the words I said register the way I meant them? Did the letter I wrote make sense? Did something I do offend? Did I misunderstand something? And, did all those times we spent together, sharing laughter and making memories resonate somewhere to remind my kids, my family, my friends and those who’ve chosen different paths that don’t include me that I cared … that I still do? Did they know how I felt? And, did I even matter to them?

And then there comes a time when you get an answer. And you know.

Last weekend, I attended the wedding of a very dear friend. She played my daughter on-stage twice and a piano student of mine another time. We had many stage moments and backstage fun. I watched her grow up to become a beautiful woman. We wrote letters. I sent her care packages and notes when she went to college. And we connect every now and then face to face.

I’m close to her whole family. Her sisters were also in shows with me and played very special roles in my life onstage and off.  And her parents were in those same shows, sharing fun and laughter, climbs up the mountain, post-show Labatt’s Blue Light, and even 6am tequilla shots after a really long cast party complete with the hair of the dog morning after walking tacos. Too many memories and times to list. They warm my heart whenever I think of them.

But, many of those memories were made nearly 20 years ago. Time passes. You wonder if all those warm fuzzy thoughts that you found so significant were only special to you. And then, you are standing at a wedding reception watching the Father Daughter Dance when you recognize the music playing is a song from Music Man and that the voice singing is your own. This song plays for all to hear from a show you shared with the bride — her voice joining in for the final duet — and her dad once upon a footbridge. A song that connects you forever and reminds you they they love you and treasure those memories from River City, Iowa too. That you mattered and still matter. And you have your answer. Your heart grows two sizes in that moment. And all else fades away.

So I don’t know why The Pour House closed. Or why they recast The White Princess. I don’t know why my Chem experiments were riddled with errors or where that radio DJ I liked so much went.

I don’t know why some relationships get severed or fade out and others stay strong with minimal maintenance. Once in a while, you realize you did “touch” someone out there. It can happen at a wedding reception in a completely unexpected moment. Or, you reconnect with friends from Cooks Corners who message you on Facebook. You reminisce about times past with people not seen face to face for years. And then there’s that priceless moment when you find an answer to a question that’s been driving you crazy about handling and paying college invoices thanks to a little help …. ahhhhh! Bliss.

So that’s life, I guess. The not knowing why or how far your presence has seeped into the corners of another. The not knowing why you didn’t get the part or why you don’t get a reply or phone call from people you once thought of fondly. The not knowing why some friends move away yet still shine a true light reflecting a continued presence in your life while others you thought were strong sputter out in the non-nurtured darkness. The not knowing if all the lessons taught, adventures shared, trips to Barnes & Noble and outings with your kids — and the time spent talking and discovering together — ever resonated with them and or will guide and support them as they step out the door on their way to college.

The not knowing … I struggle with it. Not sure how to deal with it. Still figuring that out.

— Jenni