Finding meaning and creation through cancer, adoption, and a series of seemingly unconnected strings of life events.

My Great Aunt Ruth never married. She was my Grandfather’s Aunt, so really my Great Great Aunt. As a child, we would play skipbo in her immaculate 55+ apartment, eat pretzel nuggets, and talk largely about family or if there was enough rain for the crops this year.

When she died, each family member received a meticulously maintained envelope with clippings, cards, or any other item that had been shared with her about your life.

On the top shelf of her linen closet was a box – and like everything else in her home – it was labeled, in order, and stacked neatly. The box was titled: Strings too Short to Use.

I’ve thought of that box often in a comical sense as well as a practical example of what happens when you live through the Great Depression. More and more, I think of those strings as a metaphor.

Cancer.

Adoption.

Politics.

Mental Illness.

Food Allergies.

Moving.

Trauma.

Keeping 3 boys alive.

Working with your spouse.

Retiring. Thrice. Before 40.

Cancer Again.

I seem to have a lot of strings.

The problem with starting a blog or a platform or whatever you want to call this sharing is finding a focus. Marketing 101. For a large part, that’s the big stumbling block that’s caused me a delay in starting.

On a daily basis, I feel like an expert on nothing but my life is a culminative experience of much.

I have a lot of strings. Some are long. Some are short. Some are colorful. Some are strong. Others are knotted or need to be strengthened.

These are the strings I want to explore and share.