Grieving Gardener

As the unofficial start to summer, Memorial Day often brings with it barbecues, family gatherings, and long-awaited vacations. Yet beneath the sunshine and festivities lies a solemn and profound truth: Memorial Day is a sacred time of remembrance. It’s a day when we, as Americans, pause to honor the brave men and women who gave their lives in service to our country.

Memorial Day is not simply a long weekend but a national day of mourning and gratitude. From the Revolutionary War to the most recent conflicts overseas, countless Americans have laid down their lives so others might live free. Their sacrifice forms the bedrock of our liberties, democracy, and the peace we often take for granted.

These heroes came from every corner of the nation, from every background and creed. What united them was a deep belief in something greater than themselves: the promise of America. They fought not for fame or recognition, but for the people they left behind including their families, their communities, and future generations who would never know their names but would live under the flag they defended.

On Memorial Day, we are called to do more than simply remember, but also reflect. Take a moment to visit a local veterans’ cemetery, attend a memorial service, or simply observe the National Moment of Remembrance at 3:00 PM local time. Let the silence echo the lives lost and the weight of their absence.

Talk to veterans. Listen to their stories. Teach your children not just the history of war, but the humanity of those who serve. By passing on these lessons, we ensure that the stories of our fallen heroes are never forgotten, and their sacrifices never taken for granted.

I’m so proud of my two sons who gave over almost 5 decades of their lives to the United States Air Force. Deployment in time of war is not only hell for the soldiers but also for their families at home. Those lucky enough to return are forever changed, mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally. Veterans and their families also need our prayers long after their service is complete. War is hell.

I’m also proud of My Mysterious Marine, HHH. Serving in the 70’s wasn’t always the easiest for a young man and his brand-new family. Thank you for all the sacrifices you made then, and your continued life of excellence as the Marine you’ll always be.

We owe them more than thanks. We owe them our commitment to live lives worthy of their sacrifice. That means building a more perfect union grounded in respect, service, justice, and unity. It means caring for those who return from war, supporting the families of the fallen, and standing up for the values they fought and died defending.

This Memorial Day, let us bow our heads not only in sorrow, but in gratitude. Let us remember not only the lives lost, but the ideals they fought to protect. Let us live not just for ourselves, but for the legacy they left behind.

Because freedom isn’t free and the cost has been paid in the lives of our finest.

May we never forget.

Tomorrow, in the quiet stillness of early morning, before the sun climbs too high over the sagebrush hills, a gentle procession will begin . Volunteers of all ages, families with small children, veterans in crisp caps, and Boy Scout troops holding bundles of American flags will gather at the gates of the Northern Nevada Veterans Memorial Cemetery. Each flag they will plant represents promises to remember, honor, and never forget.

Memorial Day here is not just a holiday but a sacred ritual observed by thousands who come from miles around. We are lucky enough to be home to the national Cemetery which is the final resting place for almost 10,000 veterans.

As we walk through neat rows of headstones, the silence is almost reverent, broken only by the rustle of wind across the desert and the soft flutter of flags already placed. Some stone markers are newly etched, while others bear the marks of weather and time. But each one holds a name, a story, a life that chose service above self.

When you kneel at a gravesite, press a flag gently into the soil, and read the name engraved there—James E. Michaels, SGT, U.S. Army, Vietnam—you cannot help but wonder who he was when he was 19, or 35, or in the final moments of his last deployment. Did he love fishing at Pyramid Lake? Did he write letters home every week? Did someone wait at the kitchen window for him, long after the war had ended?

For many of us who come to place flags, this is not an act of routine patriotism. It is an act of connection. There’s a shared understanding and silent fellowship when you look into the eyes of another volunteer who kneels while remembering. Some hide their tears. Others speak aloud: “Thank you.” That’s all. Two words carried into the wind like a prayer.

This cemetery is special. Tucked away from the bustle of Reno and the casino lights of Sparks, it sits in solemn peace under Nevada’s big sky. In that vastness, something powerful happens when the enormity of sacrifice becomes intimate.

Children ask questions: “Did she fight in a war?” “Why do we put flags?” Their parents answer with stories of courage and conviction. In this way, Memorial Day becomes more than symbolic. It becomes a generational and living history passed from hand to hand, one flag at a time.

Before an hour passes, the landscape transforms. Ten thousand small American flags stand at attention in the wind, like a sea of red, white, and blue stitched into the earth. The cemetery, once still and green, is now vibrant with life and gratitude.

Finishing in silence, our hearts heavier but also lifted. To honor the dead is to recommit to the values of duty, freedom, sacrifice, and love of country. While they no longer walk among us, their presence is deeply felt.

This is what it means to remember.

So next Memorial Day, if you find yourself wondering how to truly honor the fallen, come to a place like this. Bring your hands, your heart, and a flag. You’ll leave changed.

One of the great mysteries of married life isn’t how to fold a fitted sheet or who left the wet towel on the bed but discovering what lays frozen in the back of your freezer.

After 1.5 years into marriage, we uncovered the top layer of our wedding cake. Tucked behind a bag of German sausage and a long-forgotten turkey roast, there it was. Frostbitten, slightly lopsided, and still dressed in its original plastic time-capsuled from our big day.

What a beautiful cake it was! Created by HHH’s daughter, soft white layers were frosted in buttercream and crowned with a cascade of rich fall flowers. Burnt orange roses, burgundy mums, and golden ranunculus were delicately arranged to make our cake look like it had come straight out of an autumn meadow. Equal parts of rustic and romantic, there was a hint of October in every bite. Even after a year and a half in a deep freeze, it still looked like it had come out of a fairy tale.

Traditionally, newlyweds eat the top layer of their cake on their first anniversary. We meant to. Really, we did. But instead of cake, we celebrated our one-year milestone by meandering through the geysers, grizzlies, elk, and waterfalls of Yellowstone National Park. Romantic? Absolutely. A practical place to enjoy a frozen dessert? Not so much.

So the cake stayed in the freezer. Forgotten, it remained a sugary relic from the past.

1.5 years later, this humble cake has a new purpose. This October, two dear friends (affectionately nicknamed “The Doves”) are tying the knot. In a sweet twist of fate, Mr. Dove was the 6th-grade teacher of HHH’s daughter. With some fatherly encouragement, she’ll make their cake, too! It only makes sense to share this chilly little heirloom, allowing them taste-test a slice of love’s past?

The Doves are walking a path familiar to us, embarking on married life a bit later than the average couple while navigating all the same questions, hesitations, and what-ifs we faced. Watching them choose love brings back memories of our own story. We couldn’t be happier for them.

Is eating a cake frozen for 18 months safe? Honestly, we’re not entirely sure. We’re hoping that love, sugar, and an enthusiastic dose of frosting can overcome the minor inconvenience of the cake being past its expiration date. Worst-case scenario, they spit it out and find another baker. Best case? We’ll pass a magical moment of wedding tradition like a culinary baton.

So here’s to old cake, new beginnings, and the strange, beautiful things you find when you empty your freezer. Love is wonderful, even if it takes time to say “yes” to a beautiful future.

Life can change in an instant. One moment, you’re bandaging a scraped knee; the next, you’re navigating an unexpected hospital admission. Although every medical emergency can’t be predicted, we can prepare for them—physically, mentally, and logistically.

A dear friend from Kansas is having a rough go in intensive care and needs prayers today. Along with her, the photographer from our wedding was airlifted to the hospital last night in respiratory distress or something worse. Both dear friends were healthy just days ago. Some horrible viruses are wreaking havoc on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. Stealth and potentially lethal, one never knows when they’ll strike close to home.

it’s important that somewhere in your wallet, you carry the phone number of the person in charge of making your medical decisions if you are unable. Good job if you’ve already made medical directives and organized last wishes. In this crazy world, one thing is certain. The unexpected happens.

Whether it’s a minor cut, a sudden illness, or a long hospital stay, here’s how to be ready when your health or that of someone you love is on the line.

A solid first aid kit is your frontline defense against everyday medical issues customized to fit your household’s needs. This kit is really important when living alone. There is nothing worse than needing to run to the store when sick or injured. Be sure to check all expiration dates on your supplies, replenishing and replacing as needed.

Essentials:

• Adhesive bandages (various sizes)
• Sterile gauze and medical tape
• Antiseptic wipes or solution
• Tweezers and small scissors
• Digital thermometer
• Pain relievers (check expiration dates)
• Allergy meds (in our case, an EpiPen for bee stings reactions)
• Anti-nausea and antidiarrheal meds
• Mucinex (both pills and liquid)
• Electrolyte packets or oral rehydration salts

When things go wrong, information saves time and lives. Keep both digital and printed records of:

• Medical history
• Allergies and medications
• Emergency contacts
• Health insurance cards
• A copy of your ID
• Advance directives or healthcare proxies, if applicable
• Next of Kin phone name, relationship, and phone number.

Use a folder, waterproof bag, or medical binder to keep things accessible. There are even apps that let you store and share this information securely. If possible, keep a copy in your purse.

If you need to isolate during a contagious illness it helps to have a dedicated “quarantine zone”.

Consider having on hand:

• Gloves and masks
• Disinfectants and cleaning supplies
• Waste bags and a safe sharps container
• Pulse oximeter and blood pressure cuff
• Extra bedding and towels
• A notepad to track symptoms or medications

Medical emergencies often come with zero warning. A hospital go-bag can ease the confusion. Pack a bag with a change of clothing, underwear, toiletries, and pajamas. If you’re like me, you’ll throw in an extra blanket.

Medical disasters don’t just hurt physically but shake a sense of control. Part of preparation is emotional resilience.

• Know your support network (friends, neighbors, therapists)
• Talk about your wishes with family
• Practice calming techniques (breathing, grounding)
• Accept that asking for help shows strength, not weakness

Being mentally prepared doesn’t mean expecting the worst, but allows one to stay grounded when the worst happens. Preparing for medical disasters is about self-respect and responsibility. Whether it’s a scraped elbow or a week in the ICU, focus on healing, not the small stuff.

You may never need that backup oxygen meter or printed medical record. But if you do, you’ll be glad you were ready.

Start today. Start small. Just start.

More tomorrow

Today, on World Bee Day, while sipping coffee, I listened to the soft hum of wings winging their way through the gardens of Winterpast. That delicate buzz threads life between blossom and bloom. In a world often too loud to hear the quiet heroes, the bee is a balance of harmony and interconnection.

Bees are more than honey-makers. They are nature’s master pollinators, quietly servicing over 75% of our crops. Apples, almonds, blueberries, coffee, cucumbers, and more rely on bees. Without them, the vibrant palette of our plates would fade to monotony. Yet, the role they play goes far deeper than agricultural value.

In pollinating wild plants, bees maintain the very fabric of biodiversity. Every flight from flower to flower is an act of creation, ensuring that trees, shrubs, and wildflowers reproduce while ecosystems flourish. They are keystone species, holding together entire webs of life with invisible threads.

Despite their importance, bees are in crisis. Last year alone, 60% of the hives in the United States collapsed and died. In our area, we know of almost 100 that failed. Pesticides, habitat destruction, monoculture farming, climate change, and disease have all taken a toll. But, the scariest thing is that the experts haven’t found the real answer to why.

Since the early 2000s, bee populations have declined sharply around the world. The quiet vanishing of bees is not just an ecological tragedy—it’s a warning. Their loss signals a breakdown in a system that sustains us all. The loss of our hive last year broke our hearts, but not our spirit.

This year, our queen is supreme! Every day, she lays more eggs, which develop into larvae and then into capped brood. Our hive is filled with busy little bees that keep to themselves while foraging for pollen and nectar. In a few weeks, we’ll be adding the honey super (top box smaller than the other two) that they’ll fill for us! This year, we’re hopeful we’ll have honey to share with friends and family.

Each bee, small and delicate as it is, carries a profound message: our survival is inseparable from nature’s health. If they disappear, it’s not just their hum that fades—it’s the chorus of life itself.

World Bee Day is not just a celebration—it’s a plea.  In 2017, the United Nations officially designated May 20 as World Bee Day to highlight the importance of bees and other pollinators in sustaining life on Earth. The date was chosen in honor of Anton Janša, a Slovenian pioneer in modern beekeeping, who was born on May 20, 1734.

World Bee Day is observed annually on May 20. Every year, individuals, organizations, and governments worldwide come together on this day to spread awareness about the declining bee population and to promote protective measures. There are several meaningful ways to celebrate World Bee Day. For instance, you can plant bee-friendly flowers in your garden, avoid using harmful pesticides (please, discard your Sevin), and support local beekeepers by purchasing honey and other bee products.

Bees see flowers not only as sources of nectar, but as luminous patterns in ultraviolet light—a secret beauty humans can barely imagine. They live in complex societies, communicate through dances, and make collective decisions. Their world is rich, layered, and filled with purpose.

To honor bees is to live more attentively. While listening to the earth, find awe in the ordinary, and protect what is precious simply because it is alive. This World Bee Day, please remember that the hum of a bee is the heartbeat of the earth.

Aloha, financially conscious 2026 beach bums!

We’ve decided to live our best life in Waikiki, sipping tropical drinks and applying SPF 50 like frosting, while preparing to hang ten with the best of them. Planning in 2025 for Waikiki 2026 is up to us. Believe it or not, when finding the best Waikiki Airbnb, one must start the year before.

Undoubtedly, Waikiki is beautiful, iconic, and priced like the Queen Supreme of all beaches. Hotels? Expensive. Resorts? Mortgage-level. Your best bet? Airbnb, where you can choose from places in the center of town or the most splendid beachfront abodes.

When budgeting a trip, be sure to do the math. Don’t forget….

• Round-trip flight
• 10 nights in Waikiki Airbnb
• Food, souvenirs, excursions, and incidentals.

Now, breathe. You’ve got time to work out the details.

Finding a good Airbnb in Waikiki involves time and a good city map. Mark your favorites and read the reviews carefully. If the place you’ve selected is under $200/night, there’s a reason. Perhaps it sits atop a local bar that closes at 2 am. Or worse, perhaps others have traveled home with bed bugs. Remember, air conditioning isn’t just a suggestion, it’s a necessity for heat and humidity.

To start your Aloha Fund now, open a dedicated savings account. Set automatic transfers and then, forget it until the week before you leave. Even $10 a week gets you closer to sipping a mai tai on the beach.

It may take a year to adjust your thinking to Hawaiian life. Start by saying “Aloha” each time you open a door, especially at work. Break in new flip-flops now. Play Hawaiian music every chance you get. Finally, enjoy Hawaii time on the weekends and arrive late for everything.

You can always split an Airbnb with friends. Choose responsible people who will pay their fair share on time and not ruin the shared cost. Make sure your travel mates have the same goals. If HHH isn’t planning to take the catamaran ride to Diamond Head at least once a day, he’ll need to reconsider. This girl is going to be on or in the water, one way or another

Planning a 2026 Waikiki Airbnb vacation in 2025 isn’t just financially smart—it’s emotionally satisfying. Each time someone says, “Man, I need a vacation,” we’ll now reply, “We’re traveling to the islands in the spring. Wanna come along?”

There you have it. Set the alerts, build the fund, and choose which Hawaiian MuMu best expresses your attitude. In less than a year, you’ll be watching the sunset over the Pacific, thinking:

“I’m so glad we planned ahead. Now, where’d I put my flip-flops?”

There are a few moments in life when the heart swells with overwhelming joy, and words aren’t enough. This weekend will be one of those rare and beautiful moments as we watch two of HHH’s grandchildren graduate from college. HHH is many thing to many people, but to them he’s just Papa.

Walking across the stage in caps and gowns, tassels swinging, smiles wide, and futures bright, they’ve met a huge milestone. These cousins have stepped into bright new chapters they’ve worked so hard to reach. Seems like yesterday, I graduated from my own Alma Mater. At 21, I had the world on a string as I prepared to leave for Moldavia, Russia as a new bride. Little did I know all the adventures life had waiting for me.

Life sped ahead, and in the blink of an eye, I was celebrating the graduation of my own children. How quickly they grew from inquisitive kids to successful adults with graduates of their own. Looking back, it hardly seems possible the years passed so quickly, but, indeed they have.

I’ve heard many stories about these graduates as babies. Back then, HHH wondered what their lives would look like. We’ve both dreamed, as all grandparents do, of happiness, love, and purpose for all our grandchildren. But dreams pale in comparison to the reality of witnessing them shape their own paths with grace and determination.

College isn’t easy. It’s a time of challenge, change, self-discovery, and growth. These two have navigated all of it through long nights, tough exams, new friendships, and moments of doubt with admirable resilience. One has earned a degree in education driven by her love of learning. The other studied business, while planning for success. Two different dreams, equally beautiful.

The best part isn’t just the degrees or accolades, but the kind of people they’ve become. They are kind and thoughtful. They care about their communities. They ask big questions and aren’t afraid to search for answers. They love deeply. They show up. Two beautiful reflections of their parents’ love and care throughout the years.

As a grandparent, you always hope your grandchildren will be happy. But seeing them grow into compassionate, capable adults who carry those values into the world is a gift HHH and I will treasure forever.

To these beloved graduates: thank you for letting me be part of your journey. Thank you for letting me see you shine. The world is waiting for you, and it is already better because you are in it.

Each of us carries within us gifts we didn’t earn, talents we didn’t create, and abilities planted deep within our soul. These gifts are not random but rather divine fingerprints, unique to each of us and meant to bring beauty, healing, joy, and truth into the world. And yet, how often do we shrink back to dim our own light, fearing judgment, rejection while simply believing we’re not enough?

Here’s a thought. Hiding your gifts isn’t humility but fear in disguise.

Jesus told a parable about three servants entrusted with “talents” (a form of money, but the metaphor is unmistakable). Two invested their gifts and their master was pleased. The third, afraid of failing, buried his. When the master returned, he wasn’t angry because the servant failed, but because he didn’t even try.

The message is clear: Gifts aren’t for burying. They are to use, grow, and bless others. When you write, speak, create, lead, teach, heal, serve, or encourage, you’re not boasting but participating in something holy.

Many of us are taught to be modest, which is good advice as pride can distort. But modesty does not mean silence. It doesn’t mean shrinking back until we’re invisible. Real humility says, “These gifts aren’t mine but given to serve others.”

The world needs our hidden gifts. Imagine if artists stopped painting, teachers stopped teaching, or leaders stopped leading out of fear of being “too much.” Such beauty would be lost!

Jesus said, “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden… No one lights a lamp and puts it under a basket.” That verse doesn’t suggest some people are lights. It says YOU are the light, created to shine with truth, beauty, and love. When gifts are used, miracles bloom as grace meets courage.

It takes bravery to stand in the light. To speak when it would be easier to stay silent. To create when criticism is always possible. To lead when others may doubt your ability. But if your gift is God-given, your calling is to be faithful, not flawless.

So, start the business. Sing the song. Apply for the role. Offer the prayer. Write the book. Open your heart. The world doesn’t need more perfection but more people willing to be vessels of grace, hope, and truth.

If you’ve been hiding, it’s time to come out of the shadows. God didn’t make a mistake when He gave you your gifts. You are not unworthy of them. You are a steward of something eternal and unique. Let the world see what God planted in you.

Your gift is not for your glory. It’s for the good of others, and for the glory of the One who gave it.

So go ahead—shine.

As the blessing of health is returning to me a little at a time, I’ve spent time thinking more about yesterday’s blog. Here is Part 2 of a possible story of kindness.

When a person has gone a long time without a home, the idea of “belongings” feels foreign. Carry what you can, leave what you must, and learn not to grow attached. Furniture, curtains, and tablecloths are luxuries for other people with keys in their pockets, fridges that hum at night, and a table.

That first night in a new home, James sat at that table in silence. No TV. No noise. Just him, the hum of the heater, and a tabletop supporting a well-used Bible. The air smelled like fresh paint and possibility, but also like distance from everything lost.

The following day, volunteers from a local church dropped by with bags of “necessities”, among them, a tablecloth. “These things are for you,” they said. “Hopefully they’ll help your place feel more like home.”

Carefully unfolding it, the soft green background covered with a white floral design touched his heart. It took a moment before tears started to flow. Somehow, impossibly, it was just like the one his grandmother had.

Long before life unraveled and loss and circumstance knocked him down, Sunday dinners at her house were his safe place. In those days, life felt full, and the original tablecloth was always there. He used to trace the edges while she told stories or scolded him for picking at food. It smelled like clean linen, chicken soup, and love.

He never thought he’d see it again, let alone have a table to cover.

But here it was. Maybe not the exact one—but close enough that memory rushed in like a flood, and for the first time in years, he didn’t feel like a stranger to himself, but like someone who’d come back home.

Slowly spreading it across his table, he smoothed out the wrinkles with reverence. That single act made the empty house feel full. Not with things, but with meaning, dignity, and something like grace.

To some, a tablecloth is just fabric. For James, it was proof he’d not been forgotten but seen as someone worthy of beauty. Healing often begins not with grand gestures, but with quiet ones stitched in kindness, folded in memory, and offered without expectation.

Every time he sits at that table now, he does so with gratitude. For the roof, yes. For the heat, the fridge, and the shower. But mostly, for the tablecloth and how it laid a foundation for something he hadn’t felt in a very long time:

Belonging.

Whether or not this story happened will remain my secret. I can tell you this. A couple was deeply touched in unexpected ways while dropping off a few bags of “necessities”. Sometimes, things happen that way when a simple act of kindness turns into something full of meaning and beauty.

As for me, the days of Kleenex and Mucinex are over and I’m back to my old self.

More tomorrow.

When one is recovering from a virus, the world keeps spinning. Waiting to get better, I decided to write a story about something that may or may not have happened within the last week. We all need to be ready for the unexpected. What would you do if you faced this situation?

In a quiet corner of town, a simple act of compassion turned an empty building into something sacred. A local church, faced with the needs of a homeless man in their community, made the choice to open the doors of a vacant house they owned and allow him to stay for a short time. It wasn’t a grand gesture with press releases or social media fanfare. It was quiet, deliberate, and deeply human.

The little house had been empty for months. Once full of laughter and the everyday sounds of life, it sat shrouded in silence. Church members had been debating how best to use it. While many good ideas swirled through leadership meetings, the question remained. Should it be used for immediate income or for someone in need?

With no working bathroom, before it could be used for anything, it needed fixing. After installing a brand new tub/shower combination, that problem was fixed.

Within days of completion, a believer named James came along. Life had thrown him more than his fair share of storms, and slowly, everything that once made him feel secure unraveled. What he needed wasn’t just a meal or kind words. He needed a door that locked, a roof that held, and a place to breathe.

What could a tiny country church do to help?

So, the church let him in.

This decision was not without risks or questions. How long would he stay? Would it be safe? Was this fair to others in need? But rather than letting uncertainty paralyze them, the members leaned into grace. They drafted a basic agreement for clarity with J and coordinated volunteers to help furnish the space with donated items.

What happened next wasn’t dramatic, but profound. James rested. A few weeks in a stable place gave him time to think again about the future. Eventually, he’d be able to move on to more permanent housing.

And so, you decide. Did this happen or is it the product of way too much Mucinex?

In today’s world, where the scale of homelessness can feel overwhelming, it’s easy to believe that only large systems can bring solutions. But sometimes the most powerful thing is a single unlocked door. Churches, nonprofits, and communities across the country sit on vacant properties while people sleep under bridges. What if this story wasn’t the exception, but the beginning of a new model of radical hospitality?

This story isn’t about a church saving a man. It’s about the sacred intersection of resources and need. It’s about what happens when we look at what we have—not as ours to protect, but as tools to serve.

What unused space in our lives—physical or emotional—could become shelter for someone in need? The next time someone comes to your door, what would you do?

More tomorrow.