Grieving Gardener

The day has finally come. In the last few weeks, my Android phone has been misbehaving while dropping calls and texts. Ten versions behind the newest androids, the time has come to make a decision. Do I stay within my comfort zone or change back to Apple? After careful thought, I’ve decided now is the time to change.

For years, I had a month to month account with Spectrum through Walmart. There were so many thing about that account the worked for me, but the best was the price. $40 a month, unlimited service. The phones I bought were always the oldest versions, but, they didn’t come with a huge cost. The most expensive phone I bought and paid for was $150. It worked for me.

Over years of changing technology, it became cheaper to go with Spectrum and bundle TV, internet, and phone. How do these things start out so affordable, and then increase into very large bills??? It happens to the best of us.

It seems only yesterday that Apple released it’s first version of the iPhone. Sleek and beautiful, buying an iPhone was like buying a fine piece of jewelry. With the best packaging and ease of use, Apple welcomed everyone to their side.

Year after year, Apple phones were less exciting, while the other brands came up with great ideas. How cool it would be to have a foldable screen until that screen develops a crease and stops working. Today, everyone needs the best phone they can afford because every aspect of life seems to trickle through them but when does the price outweigh the benefit?

Old enough to remember back to the days of photographs, slides, and 8mm films, I wish things were that simple today. I still own an 8mm film projector because I’m the keeper of my childhood movies.

Then came the time of 35mm slides. As world travelers, my parents took hundreds of slides on their travels through India, Russia, and China. When they realized that their daughters might want to keep slides of our own lives, we each got a slide projector for Christmas.

After that came smaller and smaller video cameras, until today. Now, it’s all on the phone, leaving Senior Citizens with 8mm and slide projectors that their children won’t have one problem dumping when the time comes.

Last year, during our wedding reception, my bestie took one hundred pictures on her iPhone. Months later, we decided it was time for the transfer transfer. There began the problems for I was Android and she was iPhone. For youngsters, this would be no problem at all. For the older crowd, it took months until we could finally manipulate the photos from her phone to mine.

There have been problems sharing materials with HHH. It’s not a good thing when a husband and wife can’t share pictures of their Yellowstone honeymoon or birthday cruise.

After 17 years without an iPhone, today the conversion will occur. Not sure about learning a new operating system, there’s no time like the present to find out. There’ll probably be many frustrating moments before reaching phone mastery. Please send a few prayers that this transition will go well.

Whatever you do today, evaluate the technology in your life. If you are frustrated with an old computer, printer, or phone, it might be time for an upgrade. Especially in our older years, being online keeps us connected to the world around us. Don’t wait 17 years to change things up.

More tomorrow.

Doors open and close throughout life. Some slam in our shut, while some might not close completely. Cancer slammed the door of life in my face, not to be ignored. Widowhood is the worst hell anyone can endure, no doubt about that.

After such a loss, it took months to find purposeful direction and more time to choose a new path. Repeatedly, I reminded myself that dark days and darker nights were temporary. Time heals all wounds with faith, hope, and patience.

While I healed on my side of town, HHH healed on his. Both having lost “the best”, we also knew how to BE the best. For the two of us, life alone was a restful period to reflect and regroup. And so, we gardened. He painted his house. I blogged. He cooked three nutritious meals a day. I found Subway. He got a puppy. I tried to train Oliver. He went back to work. I worked around Winterpast. We both cried. We both asked WHY? while shaking fists at the sky. We both suffered through grief. And through it all, we strengthened our faith and healed up very nicely.

Every day, as the gardeners of Winterpast, we continue to heal as we journey through the maze of a new marriage. HHH and I are discovering healthy and fun ways to use our brains. The one place in which we don’t linger is the past. Painting a bright future together, we’ve found a way to move further and further from tears and despair while moving away from the darkness into the light.

Grief is different for each person. Some are so focused on memories that LIFE stops at LOSS. In the early days, sleep came the moment the winter sun dropped below the horizon. Hundreds of balloons were released to soar towards the heavens and away from me. Each exercise was another step away from April 8, 2020 toward the future.

Many widows and widowers disapprove of dating and remarriage. Some had advice that didn’t work for me. Quite a few just didn’t understand.

“I could never…”

“You shouldn’t…”

“How could you…”

“You already had the best…..”

Some helpful encouragement made me more determined to create a happy life different from the one I knew and loved. Not settling for a life of crochet hooks and yarn, (although I do love crocheting and plan to start again soon), I longed for a life mate. So much life remains to live.

These days, life is full of God, gardening, good food, and love. HHH and I thank God for blessing us with a chance to finish life together. Our heavenly angels cheer for us, as we find exciting new activities to fill our days as our hearts continue healing.

While planning meals for next week’s adventure, my thoughts turn back one year. Nervous about the future, I chose love. A safe life without risk is no life at all. With God’s blessing, HHH and I had everything to gain while walking through life’s door of happiness to write our own new chapter.

Life is meant to be lived to the fullest. The term “fullest” is different at every stage of life. If your heart is happy, you are in your perfect zone. But, if you wish for more, move your goal posts. After all, what do you have to lose?

More tomorrow.

Today is the day we’ll be put to the test. Our Master Gardener class has come to an end and we’ll be questioned on our knowledge of the subject. During two hours combined with gardening experience of 128 years and our study guides, this should be an easy exam to ace. We’ll see.

Throughout this class, we’ve studied many interesting aspects of gardening in our state. Due to geology, the soils of Nevada are very young, lacking organic matter and nutrients. How lucky we were to begin with enriched soil in raised beds. Sometimes, you just need to help Mother Nature along. It sure worked in our favor.

This year, I learned about plants that thrive here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada and those that refuse to grow. Just because the nursery sells something doesn’t mean those plants are well suited to an area. Do your homework before going out to buy plants. Gardening isn’t the inexpensive hobby it used to be when we were kids.

Here at Winterpast, the garden and trees enjoy the last few days of summer-like weather. Soon, they’ll drop their leaves and go to sleep for the winter. HHH and I may suffer a bit while switching our attention to the inner walls of Winterpast, but plenty of houseplants will keep us busy.

During the next week, we’ll prepare for travels to God’s country. Idaho. Montana. Wyoming. Each day, through Yellowstone cameras, I’ve noticed fewer cars. By the time we roll into West Yellowstone, the Tourons (Tourist Morons) should’ve left for the season. Hopefully the bison, wolves, elk, and eagles. will be out to play.

We were considering a helicopter ride over the Grand Prismatic but learned that’s illegal unless you’re a photographer. Colorful photographs are taken from airplanes at least a mile in the air, not from a hovering helicopter. In this day and age, it’s hard to believe our eyes anymore. After hiking to the Grand Prismatic, I’d be disappointed if drones or helicopters hung overhead. Wild nature is just more enjoyable.

We’ll be staying at last year’s little honeymoon cabin. Already having meals in mind, it’s time to start shopping and packing our boxes and suitcases. The AirBnB Host made contact with information about great restaurants and activities. It’s nice to know the locals!

As for the fur babies, they’ll get to visit Puppy Camp once again. Fine by them. In the last few days, they’ve become bored with our routine. It’s wonderful to have canine experts watch over our kids so we can get out and have some fun.

This weekend, we’ll look around for Autumn fun. The last weekend in September means its time for “Street Vibrations”. Motorcyclists from all over the country will converge on the Biggest Little City to the West. Having lived in Virginia City for years, the ground truly rumbles when they all roll into town.

Whatever you do this weekend, take some time to have fun. Enjoy family and friends. Get out and enjoy the fall weather. Be kind to others. Find some smiles. Most importantly, have a happy weekend.

More on Monday.

Have you eaten today???? Today is National Better Breakfast Day, so eat something yummy to eat your fast.

I remember those early days of widowhood when it was enough to get dressed. There wasn’t much cooking in those first days here at Winterpast. I relied on some wonderful restaurants for nourishment, risking the possibility of Covid. Through widow’s fog, it was all I could manage to be served, eat, and pay the bill. Perhaps you can relate.

These days, breakfast is a given. HHH is such a great cook! It’s all good because I don’t mind washing dishes while putting everything back in order. He loves cooking and is always looking for new and exciting recipes. Another way we’re a great match.

He delights in surprising me with fresh hash browns or homemade pancakes. One day, while in line at Walmart, I marveled at the gentleman in front of us buying frozen pancakes and waffles. Not in our house. In our house, bacon is on the menu every single day. Eggs. A starch. All enjoyed after asking God’s blessing. Perfectly wonderful.

As a treat, HHH and I wanted to visit the new restaurant in our little town. It’s always fun to try something new, until it isn’t.

In this crazy world, after spending an entire summer creating a new restaurant, you would hope the meals produced in the first few weeks would be better than “Just okay”. We’d heard meals there were FANTASTIC. So, off we went.

“Just Okay” would have been acceptable. What we got was “Just Plain Awful”. Soupy scrambled eggs, runny fried eggs, dry and overcooked sausage, and terrible biscuits with thin and drippy gravy. What a statement about lack of pride in one’s business or job. An all-around zero stars out of 5. In a town of 25,000, the word will spread like wildfire and sadly, another business will bite the dust.

This is the second meal in a week in which we’ve experienced unacceptable customer service or terrible food. The other was in Las Vegas at an establishment with the name of a very famous chef on the door and a surprisingly bad experience once inside. $90 of lunch money later, we left shaking our heads in disbelief. Being married to an amazing cook has wrecked me for eating in the real world. Meals at Winterpast never disappoint, even if I need to do the dishes myself.

The response from both places was to come back and let them show us the “REAL” experience. New business owners forget this important fact. You have ONE chance to make a GREAT first impression. In the case of those two restaurants, that ship sailed.

Only one local restaurant is consistently GREAT in our little town. DENNY’S. The manager is a mountain of a man who works more hours than he is home. He watches every detail like a hawk and checks often to insure his customers are happy with their meals. It is one of the best restaurants I’ve eaten in since moving to Nevada ten years ago. Why so? It’s only a “Denny’s”, you might think. Nope. It’s the best because the manager treats the entire operation as his own, loving his customers and eatery.

The work ethic of our country has been lost . It’s pretty obvious the youngsters working in the food industry don’t quite grasp what it takes to be a GREAT eatery. Soon, they may find themselves wondering what happened to their jobs. All the while, HHH and I enjoy food we’ve grown and prepared ourselves. At this point, it’s not worth the disappointment and effort to try new restaurant food.

Tonight, we’ll enjoy another hand crafted meal. It will be so nice to enjoy a quite moment with the man I love in the privacy of our own home.

Whatever you do today, think of something wonderful for dinner. Try a new recipe. If you must, order something you love, arrange it on a pretty plate, and enjoy a your meal. If you are lucky enough to have a great restaurant near you, hug the manager and know you are very lucky, indeed.

The garden has given its all this year, finishing off the season with Early Girl tomatoes. I can hardly believe the last plant was only a tiny seed at the end of January. With loving care under grow lights, she grew to produce pounds of tomatoes. Yesterday, I harvested the last of them and got to work.

The gardens of Winterpast produced the following food with the help of two loving and quite crazy gardeners: cherries, apricots, plums, pears, watermelon, cantaloupe, cucumbers, pumpkin, eggplant, zucchini, Early Girl tomatoes, Cherry tomatoes, green onions, bell peppers, carrots, beans, snap peas, red onions, yellow onions, garlic, basil, chives, lavender, jalapenos, strawberries, zinnias, roses, bachelor buttons, calendula, snapdragons, peony’s, Black-Eyed Susan’s, Siberian Wallflowers, coneflowers, sunflowers, dahlias, iris, and probably a few things I forgot. All this was grown on 1/2 acre of a tiny oasis in the desert.

Earlier yesterday, Walmart’s aisles were lined with boxes of ball jars and lids. Bread and butter pickle spice mix packets sat quietly on the shelves. For some reason, Walmart missed the proper timing for these items. The Armenian cucumbers finished their season weeks ago, along with many other plants. On the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, the nights are chilly. This late in the season, I was lucky to pick a few more pounds of luscious tomatoes.

I learned to can while watching all the women in my family toil in very hot kitchens. With a family of seven, my mom spent hours and hours canning all sorts of produce to make sure we had enough to eat in the winter. Once a certain age, I was expected to prepare fruit and vegetables right next to her.

So, yesterday, I washed the tomatoes and then parboiled them. First boiling and then plunging them into cold water, the skins were easy to remove. Sliced and in a pot, they were boiled and mashed until the resulting pulp was ready for jars. Winter spaghetti sauce will be extra special, made from vine-ripe tomatoes grown in our very own backyard.

Yesterday was also the last day of our Master Gardener Class. On Friday, HHH and I will sit down to take our final exam. Computerized, the test will cover everything we’ve studied up until now. We need an 80% grade to pass on to the next class. I think the two of us will do just fine. Gardening is our wheelhouse.

While I worked with the tomatoes, a memory came back to me from a very long time ago. In the 80’s and 90’s, a gentleman named Garrison Keillor produced a radio show called “Prairie Home Companion”. Through his words, the imaginary Minnesotan town of Lake Wobegon was introduced to listeners around the world. My boys and I would sit around the radio and laugh at the stories, but the favorite of all favorites was “Tomato Butt”.

A brother. A sister. A hot day. A mom needing them to get out of the house and pick the tomatoes. And, the title. “Tomato Butt”. In your own mind, you might be able to tell a good story with only those bits of information.

If you can find Garrison’s stories online, they are worth a listen. Radio shows aren’t like they were back when life was simpler. Perhaps that is the exact charm of one Mr. Garrison Keillor. If you like “Tomato Butt”, listen to some of his others. The more you listen, the more you may want to put a visit to Lake Wobegon on your bucket list. If only it were real, HHH and I would visit there tomorrow.

Whatever you do today, find some radio shows or pod casts that are of interest to you. Listening carefully is a lost art. Give it a try.

More tomorrow.

Nothing makes me love the desert more than a drive down Highway 95. Let me assure you, there is little except stunning scenery for the seven-hour journey from here to there. Here is on the Northwestern High Desert Plains of Nevada and there is Las Vegas. In between there are many notable curiosities.

To many, this looks barren. But, when you are driving through, life is abundant. This year has been unusual with things still greenish in mid-September. The Joshua tree forests we passed through are thriving, while the sage and other plants are springtime-lush. Every so often, there are distant springs marked by greenery. Far from boring, there is a lot to take in.

To begin with, there’s the little town of Hawthorne, mainly known as the Army Depot. This place is like a mirage in the desert. At first, it seems that there is nothing except wide open spaces. But, the more you look, the more you notice humps. Everywhere. For miles. Giant humps protecting our nation’s munitions.

The color of sand, they can appear and disappear before your eyes depending on the amount and direction of sunlight. Along with a treeless Walker Lake, Big Horn Sheep, and a few cattle, the military base is the main thing there. And then, you continue to drive through Mina and Luning.

And, boy, oh boy, it’s only two more hours to Tonapah, the heart of desert civilization.

Well, you get the idea. Getting to a place like this…

Requires you to drive through miles of this…..

After Tonapah and Goldfield (a town just like Tonapah about 30 miles south), We passed through Area 51.

And through Beatty….

After hours of looking at huge mountain ranges of rock, we were ready to get out of nature and back to civilization.

One thing shocking to the senses is found just to the north of Tonopah, a ghost town, tourist attraction, and site of current mining activity.

This 656 ft. tower can be seen for miles as it emits blinding light. It is part of the Crescent Dunes Solar Project, one of only two in the world (or so I read). With more than 10,000 reflective panels each made of over 12,000 6×6 mirrors, molten salt flows through the tower. Costing billions when it was built, and being dark for a time, it’s now operated by its second owners. There’s no other place in the world better suited for this monstrosity than the outskirts of Tonopah.

We passed by Creech Air Force Base where airmen fly drones larger than some cars. With so little to capture one’s attention on a car trip, Google can become your friend.

By the time we got to our hotel, there’d be no more for the week. Luckily, the shuttle service was amazing, taking us to the strip and back any time between 9 am and 9 pm.

After staying for a week, it was time to make the drive back home. One tiny little accident almost derailed our plans. Two big rigs hit head on, spilling an entire load of lumber AND lithium batteries, adding an explosion to lots of fuel. The road was closed for two days, leaving many motorists standing until it could be cleared.

As we left on a stunningly stormy morning, the desert sky held two rainbows. Rainbows are every so special when seen gracing Nevada’s big skies. If you haven’t seen BIG SKY, put it on your bucket list. It’s something I can’t describe in words. The perfect ending to a perfect trip.

It will be a little while before we drive Highway 95 again. I’ll miss seeing the burros and their foals. They’re the true celebrities of the desert. So much so that they’ve learned parked cars are friends containing people with yummy snacks.

It’s always nice to get back home. Winterpast enjoys the first few days of autumn, which feel mysteriously like the last few days of summer. All the chores were waiting for us, including the canning of the last tomatoes. Vacation is grand, but home is where our hearts are and Home Means Nevada to me.

More tomorrow.

In my life, I’ve been blessed with travel to enjoy wonderful places and the beauty of our world. I was born and raised in the heartland of the most beautiful state of the union, (although the most screwed up), California. As a 17-year-old, I worked a summer in the Swiss Alps. As a bride of 21, I lived in Moldavia, USSR, and honeymooned across Europe.

I’ve sailed on one side of the beautiful Pacific Ocean and catamaran-ed on the other. I’ve seen deep Minnesota quarry pits filled with the clearest of rainwater and cooled my toes in the headwaters of the Mississippi River. From the romance of a moonlit night on Waikiki beach to the charm of the deep south, traveling has provided crazy experiences.

There have been eagles, grizzly bear, elk, and bison sightings in Yellowstone National Park. In Northern Minnesota, a wild wolf ran alongside my car for a bit. There were black bears in Yosemite, and trout caught out of a lake on the John Muir Trail in the high Sierra Nevada’s.

So far, there’ve been 50,000 miles crisscrossing the United States by land, and plenty of states visited by air. To date, I’ve visited 25 states and 7 foreign countries.

None of this would have ever happened if I’d depended on doing it “Someday”. Throughout my entire life, when opportunities arose, I took them. Some were a little more daring than others. As the years roll by, my “Someday” box of wishes is quite empty except for a return to Russia.

After experiencing it, Russia can stay on my “Someday” list for the rest of my life. Not a place worthy of any bucket list. However, if I’d missed it, I wouldn’t have amazing stories to tell. That much is true.

When cancer knocked at my door in 2020, I believed for a tiny moment in time that my life had ended when his did. In the middle of a move to a brand new home in an unknown town, losing my husband of 32 years was something we figured would happen “Someday”. But, surprise, surprise. It happened on a Wednesday at 10:30 am on the side of Davidson Mountain in Virginia City, Nevada.

Just completing the fifth summer after this loss, I can tell you that the word “Someday” still isn’t in our vocabulary. As any wise Sexagenarian would be quick to advise, “If not NOW, WHEN?”

Last week, while walking the glittery sidewalks along Las Vegas Boulevard, HHH and I enjoyed a true vacation. Even retired folks deserve to get caught up on lost time. We saw things we can never un-see. In Las Vegas you can’t believe your eyes for everything is one big fantastical mirage, rather like a circus mirror.

In one week, HHH swept me away to the streets of New York and hugged me under the Eifel Tower. We ate at restaurants named for famous chefs. We pounded the table while hoisting tankards to kings on horseback under the watchful eye of Merlin the Wizard. But the most enchanting place was a magical garden inside the Bellagio Conservatory.

Who, but two crazy Master Gardeners, would choose that over other options? That would be us. But, the most amazing thing was that this place was jammed with people who love gardens as much as we do! Almost everything seen in this short video was made from natural materials. There were hundreds and hundreds of chrysanthemums and coleus. Pumpkins of every color, size, and shape were found throughout the autumnal forest. Fairies and waterfalls. Something we won’t soon forget.

A favorite Aunt of mine had a dream. A house in the mountains. She began by researching what plants would grow there, because she wanted to be sure she had a lovely garden. For years, she bought dog wood trees and plants native to the foothill town. Each year, her own yard gained pots of plants she intended to move to the beautiful garden she had sketched. Each year, they thrived on her porch.

Auntie never realized her dream of her mountain house, but every night, she dreamed of the gardens. Each day, she enjoyed the precious little piece of mountain life right on the valley floor.

We all have the S- M- T- W- Th- F- S’s of our lives to fill with memorable experiences. Some are found right in our own backyard, while others might be a few hundred miles to the south. Pick a date and start planning your list. Start close or dream big, just begin with a destination and a date.

Whatever you do today, see what’s going on in your home town. I would imagine that Auntie TJ and The Goddess of the Central Coast are getting ready to tour the Scare Crows of the Central Coast of California. If you haven’t seen them, it’s worth the visit.

More tomorrow.

It has been a minute since the honeymooners of Winterpast have adventured from home. This last year has flown by at the speed of light. This fall, it’s time to set down the shovel and rake and take some time for ourselves while making new memories of us.

After months of planning, it’s time for three wonderful fall adventures. The first in the land of man, the second in God’s country, and the third on the high seas of fantasy. Until the holidays begin, we will be kicking up our heals in retirement.

In the autumn of our lives, this statement is more relevant than ever before.

Tomorrow, Ollie and Wookie will pack their bags and trot off to puppy camp. Toodle- OO!!! We’ll begin packing for a journey into the land of artificial lights and manmade pools. A mirage that should’ve never been, but is.

Las Vegas.

Not a first choice, except that five days of “free” fell into our laps. Vacationing in free luxury is always fun. Only a day’s drive away, we’ll enjoy this much-needed getaway.

With no worries about broken sprinklers or the pesky ground squirrel, we’ll enjoy time together reflecting on memories made throughout the last year. More precious than we could have hoped, marital bliss has been a huge blessing from God. This autumn is a lovely time of year to rejoice.

September 23rd, I’ll be back with lots of stories from the land of man. Until then, stay safe and happy!

Whatever you do today, choose an adventure for yourself and start planning. Every journal begins with a dream and a single step, so get with it and begin your journey!

Happy Adventure Planning!

A sure sign of autumn on the high desert plains is the return of the mustangs. Down from the hills, they come looking for food and water. Both are scarce right now, although the herds look fit and feisty. Spring’s foals have lost their fluffy newborn tails and are now walking endless miles with their families.

It’s best not to name them or even look for favorites each day. Mustangs are a funny bunch. You might see the same group every day for a week and then not see them again for the rest of the season.

One of my favorites is a white mare. Not a true albino, she has a platinum sheen to her coat. Older than my time on here on the high desert plains, she’s produced a foal each spring, every one as white as her. For a time, she liked bunking next to Winterpast to escape the wind. I hope she’s wise enough to live out the rest of her days wild and free.

The mustang round-up’s continue around the area. Each time one is announced, I’m relieved they aren’t taking our group. Not yet anyway.

Opinions about the Mustangs are varied and intense. The Mustang groups want them left alone. Watching the herds that have become family members, I appreciate their point of view. Then, cattle ranchers using the open range insist wild horses harm BLM (the ONLY BLM — Bureau of Land Management) land used for cattle. People from the EPA claim the horses ruin the land for native species. The horses aren’t native, but invasive.

The highway patrol wishes the horses were miles from Highway 50, the loneliest highway in the United States. We all agree horses and vehicles don’t mix.

All those groups come together to clash, year after year. All the while, the number of mustangs keeps growing. It’s an impossible problem to solve. With any choice, unhappy people will continue to fight for years to come.

Add a deadly fire and the risks are greater. Just a few days ago, a video was taken of wild mustangs running up Geigher grade to the safety of the Virginia city range. Now, that’s a traffic jam. I tried to post it here, but the attached political ads included curse words. Google “wild mustangs escaping Davis Fire on Geigher grade” to see the mass exodus. There are many more than that living right outside our front door.

Oy. Vey.

One thing that does change the picture is a growing population and our town is on the verge of exploding. With thousands of new apartments and homes under construction, wild animals are pushed East, further onto the desert plains.

Just yesterday, I found that a new Italian restaurant, a Wine Lounge, a dress shop, and new salon are opening in our town. Along with those new shops, Squeeze Inn is opening their 9th store on September 21. A new place to enjoy breakfast and lunch, this isn’t opening a minute too soon. Businesses grow as the population expands. The horses and wild life will be lost somewhere along the way.

For now, I’ll enjoy this very moment and things as they are today.

Whatever you do today, look around to find signs of autumn where you live. Pretty soon it will be time for sweaters and pumpkin spice. I can’t wait!

More tomorrow.

NEVER, EVER, EVER FORGET!

Please reflect on those Americans who lost their lives that horrible morning 23 years ago today.

Sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, grandchildren, moms, dads, co-workers and friends collectively robbed of their futures on one terrifying day.

As towns across the country will do, ours is remembering while we gather at Out-Of-Town park. 343 firemen lost their lives that day running towards the danger. Heroes were born out of this tragedy. Cancer continues to claim the lives of those that rushed to help.

For the last five years, I’ve chosen to write an anonymous letter and a donation to an unsung hero in my town. The first year, during Covid, I wrote to the cheer and track coaches training kids even though there would be no competitions. I’ve written to the auto mechanic asking him to put my donation towards the bill of the next single mother with hungry kids and a broken car. I’ve thought of something different each year and quietly donated.

There are many things you can do behind the scenes. Try it. There’s something wonderful about secretly helping someone who needs it. 9/11 is a great day to start a tradition.

Whatever you do today, remember. Look at the images. Think about that day. Watch “Come From Away” and shed a few tears.

9/11.

Never, ever, ever, ever, ever forget.