Month: October 2020

I was 29 when my sister died. And, because she couldn’t do anything normal, even her death took us all on an unexpected journey. I speak about it often because the death of your only sibling is pivotal for anyone, but the circumstances surrounding her death stripped me of the axis I had always spun around and set me adrift.

Condensing a story so long I needed to write a book to encapsulate — her sudden death at 33 was deemed suspicious. Her autopsy was refused at time of death and my family was dragged through the first exhumation case in Westmoreland County in 25 years and a police investigation. To add to that, my young marriage couldn’t handle the weight of the tragedy, leaving me a single mom in the middle of it all. At the exact same time, my career took an unexpected turn and I was asked to be a co-host on QVC. All I knew was gone and I was left to inch forward … the only direction left to go.

We got the call after many agonizing months of investigation to come to District Attorney Peck’s office to review the case and Dr. Cyril Wecht’s findings. It was of course scheduled on the exact day that I had to make the 4 1/2 hour drive to West Chester, PA to do my very, first show on QVC. I remember walking into the courthouse trying to steady my shaking knees. The Detective we had gotten to know well during the process greeted us at the DA’s door and took us on a winding walk down hallways stacked with banker’s boxes of files to seat us in a conference room encircled by law books. DA Peck and the group of detectives wasted little time speaking. Lots of words followed, but the most important ones were this: “We don’t know what happened and there is not enough evidence to prove in court. We cannot proceed.”

“That’s it“, I asked needing more. “But, I need to know what happened. You are telling us we will never know?”

They all just shrugged. They couldn’t tell me. I kind of knew that they couldn’t in my breaking heart. But, I needed something. Justice. Something. Answers. Something. More. I felt like I was falling, even while seated in the uncomfortable wooden chair. I got nothing but shown the door with my parents quietly trailing behind.

And, then … I got into my car, waved goodbye to my equally stunned parents and hit the road to cross the state into a different unknown — QVC. This was the song that came on, and I drove as the tears streamed down my face cooled by the wind blowing through my open window. I blasted it as loud as my radio would allow … and drove forward, the only direction I had left to go.

I arrived at QVC, walked through the intimidating glass-fronted building, check-in and got wound down a long hallway to the Green Room. I think I should have been nervous, but I was so filled with the knowledge of how short life was and so automatically hardened by how quickly it could all change, that I simply didn’t care. I had a job to do. And, that job was forward … the only place left I had to go.

They handed me a beeper to clip to my hip that would go off when I was due on set. I sat and stared in the side lit mirrors as my hair and make-up was done quietly, hoping they didn’t notice that my eyes were swollen from the hours of tears that shook off somewhere in the Blue Mountains. I listened to the banter in the Green Room and watched handlers excited or disappointed over the line graphs on computers set up showing them their sales per minute. The world … counted in minutes for them, just like I was now counting all of them in my head. My buzzer went off, I walked to set. A rushed host looked at me and smiled, “you ready?” I nodded as the robotic camera turned to us and the lights brightened before me.

Show time. The show must go on. And, it did. Forward … the only way to go.

How is this political? It doesn’t seem to correlate except to give you the fist-pounding, gut-wrenching, heartfelt reasoning why I have zero tolerance for the victim mentality. I have no patience for the destructive protests. I have no patience for people believing the President or any can hurt or destroy them. You think I don’t know injustice? Say HER name. My sister was Danielle. Say it.

Danielle.

And, guess what … she still will never come back. I will never know how she died. Justice will never come. But, I move forward … because that is the ONLY place to go.

You can burn, you can loot, you can blame, you can scream and it will never change a thing. You will waste (if you are so, so lucky) 100 years you have to live. And, I will ruin the surprise for you — life isn’t always just, it isn’t always fair and sometimes … it’s not even kind. But, it is the only one you get.

Change, life, beauty, forgiveness, redemption, passion, growth — they only happen when you move one way … forward … because it’s the only direction that will ever get you anywhere good.

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I hate adulting. Adulting is hard. It is full of work, stress, hard decisions, bills, being tired before 9 PM, being disappointed, not always getting what I want, prioritizing what is important over what is fun, saying no when it is hard, saying yes when you want to scream no. My oh my, adulting is hard.

I wonder how I can get out of it? I know, I know! I can become a liberal, a socialist or an Antifa member!!! FREEDOM!!! FREEDOM from adulthood!

Any parent can attest that one of the hardest things in the world about parenting are those moments you have to be “the bad guy”. Your child wants the candy, they can’t eat it or they will never sleep. You tell them they cannot and the child completely flips out. Nooooooow … some parents cave. I sure know I did at times. But, we all know what happens the next time they want something that is a bad idea. Straight to the hissy fit!

It’s exhausting to be the “mean, mom” surrounded by children with horrible ideas and forks inches away from a light socket screaming, “please don’t do that” as they throw a tantrum and inch closer to destruction. “But, I WANNA destroy everything! It will be fun! You are a meanie!” That is truly what it feels like to be a moderate or Conservative in this new world of raging Liberals, wannabe Socialists and escalating anarchists. It’s hard being the adults around screaming children and it is made more difficult when the babies are also carrying bricks, guns and Molotov cocktails.

I remember when my boys were little, they thought that ignoring my advice and playing with their Airsoft guns in the basement with their cousin was a great idea. Of course, until they shot off their cousin’s nipple. (Which is a hilarious story now … and it oddly grew back … but, you get the point) I look at every issue and debate, every thing they say they want and am annoyed that half the country has to feel like the parent to stop their often fun-sounding or noble ideas on paper that are disasters in reality.

Let me name a few:

1. Anarchy – “No rules, no government, no police!” Adorable, sweetie! What a wonderful idea. Except a state of anarchy does not exist without being a precursor to a large-scale war. Most World Wars have begun with certain states of anarchy. And, as adorable as you think the “A” symbol is and cool as you think marching around with skateboards and helmets is, anarchy only it leads to two things: lots and lots of death and the rebuilding of some societal governance because a state of anarchy never survives. So, cutie pie … you are basically asking for a whole lot of people to die and then the exact thing you claim to hate to rebuild. Fun. Sounds like a great plan. Geniuses.
2. Socialism – “We need to adopt Democratic Socialism, Bernie said so.” Aw, that’s adorable, little ones. Do you mean like Sweden, his grand example? Except for the fact that Sweden, Norway, and Denmark are not socialist or even democratic socialist. They NEED capitalism to survive. They REALLY depend on America’s capitalism (as do most other countries). Swedish economist, Johan Norberg attests that before Sweden built a bigger government they got rich first with free trade and an open economy. When they started dabbling in socialism, they feel from the fourth-richest economy to the 14th within 25 years. Braintrusts!
3. I repeat, Socialism/extreme Liberalism – “We want and need the government to take care of everything because capitalism is evil!” Aw, babydoll … you are too cute. Do you want Venezuela? I mean 7% of their entire population has FLED from there because ONLY the government lives well under socialism. No? You like your IPhones and being able to buy your black clothes to look all edgy and tough? Ok. Do you want Greece? The overwhelming government debt has swallowed the country whole and led to three international bailouts. Half the young are unemployed and people are hoarding food, money and medicine. No? You need your Prozac for your “anxiety” over living in this awful country too much? How about Spain, peanut? Do you want to go there? The Socialist there launched the largest stimulus package in the EU and doubled their national debt nearly overnight. Banks failed, taxes were raised and unemployment reached Depression-era levels. Weeeeee!! Sounds fun, right???

Morons. I hate to be condescending … actually on this, not really … morons.

Go home, get a cookie and a warm glass of milk and descend into your mom’s basement. Get to work on your on-line classes at the college that your parents pay through the nose for, try to enroll in an actual Economics class. Sit there and stare at the trophy that your parents insisted you get that you never deserved and let running this country to the adults.

As cute and morally superior as you think you are for wanting to either give everything away for free or burn everything down, the reality is … you are either physical or mental children — stunted at growth and caught in the mentality where stomping your feet and holding your breathe got you what you wanted. Grow up, get a job, pay taxes and put down the bricks. The adults are getting bored of the tantrums.

I have always had two personality quirks. I am a regimented planner — I like to know what is going to happen, exactly what time, who is going to be there, what is the attire, etc. It’s just who I am. It makes me very reliable and also a pain in the ass. I accept that about myself.

My second quirk is a very keen sixth sense. I can read a room — the energy, the glances people give, the tone in an email, the body languages of those that are lying in almost Sherlock Holmes-style deduction. It has also made me a pain in the ass to cheating spouses or two-faced friends. There was a time that I would question this instinct, my gut or inner voice. I would always live to regret it. My mother would tell me, “your gut is God, listen to Him.”

My gut right now is in a knot.

From the first day of the lockdown I felt like Sarah Connor looking into a future no one else saw with dread. I watched as people went along as normally as they could with what was happening. Putting little “Stay Inside, Stay Safe” banners around their profile pictures, ending every email with the same “Stay Safe” sign off.

I, on-the-other-hand, broke my Keto diet to eat Lemonheads and wash them down with wine then buy a bullhorn to scream at people through my living room window sarcastically that had the “audacity” to be outside. I wasn’t “ok”. That was pretty clear. And, the amount of people that were mindlessly ok with it all freaked me out more. Every time they would tell me to “stay safe”, I would force a fake smile and in my head think, “thanks. I was planning on going to lick doorknobs in the hospital. You just saved me.”

My instincts told me a truth that I kept trying to share, “once they lock us up, we aren’t going to get out — not truly and not for a long time.” I was told I was nuts for thinking that. I mean, it could have been because I was screaming it half kicked in the ass from wine through a bullhorn off my back porch while blasting American Girl by Tom Petty … but, they still were saying I was wrong and quite apparently now … I was not.

My gut is now on fire.

I need a plan. I want a plan. In life and in work … everyone keeps trying to plan for some unknown future that doesn’t seem to even have a start date that doesn’t include the words, “well, let’s wait to see what happens after the election.” Do we get how messed up that is?

My mind keeps trying to process ways this election can go without the inevitable darkness that is going to follow. I can’t come up with a solution and I am so frustrated daily by that. It strains my mind. I keep playing out the different scenarios and the maze keeps dumping me at the same ending. Chaos.

People are pushed to the max, I mean to the MAX. We have been locked up, polarized, attacked, verbally abused and maligned. These mayors and governors have allowed these kids with no clue what they are asking for to roam the streets protesting, plotting and planning while the real adults are struggling to figure out how to keep their businesses and lives afloat. It is building a resentment that I don’t think people are truly understanding the magnitude of the anger they are creating. It’s a powder keg.

The media, that is the constant spoon stirring for ratings, is painfully oblivious or doesn’t care as to how close to the edge they are pushing this with people. I am seriously concerned we are one, tiny step away from the word these kids keep chanting, but have no idea what that will mean, the word I won’t say because I don’t want to write it into existence … I fear we are one misstep away from … “it”.

A storm is coming.

And, I am certain that again I will get called an alarmist for believing so. I sure hope I am wrong. For all of our sakes, I hope I am wrong. I want to be wrong. And, if I am … at least I will have extra toilet paper this time!

Until then, I will stare off into the not-so-distant future for America and pray the storm is gentle on us all.

As an observer to politics and an active participant in debates over the years, I can remember the pre-2016 election talks amongst those who followed current events with the same passion that I did.

Of course people would argue over the same fringe issues of abortion, justified or unjustified wars, and gay marriage. Each of us postured in our own separate opinions formed by life experiences or biases. But, when you would dig deep with anyone with an opposing view, get passed the initial grandstanding and chest pounding — a deeper conversation would often occur. I liked those moments. They were moments of the truest connection, where you could feel yourself growing by opening up a little to someone with a different view.

Both sides would often be hit with the realization that “maybe these issues are just bait? Maybe there is a puppeteer in all of this, throwing fringe issues at us like chum, keeping us busy eating each other alive while they rob us blind. They seem to only come up every four years, each side driven to believe they will lose all their rights. Hmmm? Are we being used?

There would always be a temporary détente in the political spats with friends, family and strangers in the gaps between the elections. It was nice … peaceful. The puppet masters hands perhaps grew tired? Maybe they knew the boundaries and what would be pushing people too far? “Let’s get them to only mildly rip each other to shreds. The puppets don’t serve us as well completely tattered.”

2016 was the last time the strings were left to dangle.

The moment Donald Trump walked out on to a victory stage, Melania trailing behind looking as dazed and stoic as many were at the moment his win was sealed, I felt the strings begin to tighten. It was palpable. It was like my friends to the left, the media, and something deep, dark and hidden within the halls of the legislator and Congress wailed. And, the puppet strings wrapped daily tighter and tighter around the necks of our citizens. Washington D.C., the hidden one, the ghosts, the one I don’t believe any of us can see spun out of control with someone outside their world grabbing the strings.

And, the grand tug of war with all of us haplessly in the middle began.

Crook! Liar! Racist! Collusion! Bully! Racist, again! Orange! Dumb hair! Conman! Hateful! Stupid! Quid Pro Quo! Impeach! Remove! Destroy! Evil! Murderer! Incompetent!

It was a 4-year long temper tantrum of epic proportions. They made no serious attempt to seek a better candidate, no attempts give the American people any lulls or reprieve. There was no time for that! They needed the strings back in their grasps. “We must, MUST get him out! Not four years from now. NOW!”

But, why? It didn’t matter how I felt about him — his personality, the off the cuff style. It didn’t matter. The constant and daily rebuke freaked me out. The intensity of it started the hairs on the back of my neck to raise. My innate instincts kicking in. This is bigger than just him. Something is going on. Many felt it and some started to ask .. Why? Why is the reaction this extreme? I would ask myself this repeatedly and could only come up with one answer.

Power.

There are a million theories and obviously fringe “conspiracy” theories. I don’t think any of us can claim to really know exactly what is going on. We don’t exist in the Skull and Bones world the true power brokers swim in. But, any of us with our unsaturated by social media brains can sense that whatever power the puppeteers had owned prior to his win, it was worth everything and anything to get back.

What is the price of power? Us.

Ask yourself why Nancy Pelosi would still being doing this at 80-years-old and unlimited wealth. Does no one in Washington retire??? and, if not … WHY? Why would Biden even want to run and take office at 79? Does this make sense? It isn’t to serve the people. I cannot imagine anyone with any intellectual honesty believing that. So, then do you ask, “what comes with that power that is so worth all of this destruction to recapture?”

And, if you aren’t asking yourself that … then when people say “wake up” … they are talking to you.

Protests and unrest over lockdown restrictions around the world. London, Tokyo, Germany and Chile weary citizens rise up against lockdowns.

Wait … but, it is Trump’s fault, right? Certainly, the mask versus anti-mask issues only belong between the “dumb Trumpsters and radical left”, right?

In a world where so many people have access to computers, I am continually impressed by people’s lack of an ability to look outside our myopic opinions to not seek out the truth. It isn’t hard to find, if you look. “Look at what America has come to? Look what Trump has done? Look at all this unrest he caused!” I see people type statements like that on social media and think, “Um, you have access to the internet because you are on Facebook saying dumb stuff … could you use that information box to possibly look for the real answers?”

We have had the extremely bad luck of being hit with a pandemic during an election year. The handling of COVID-19 and the chaos ensuing after seems awfully easy to put on President Trump. It is an election year after all. It is a convenient untruth that many are fine following and posting about from the same computer that could give them the truth. The problem is, you are completely and utterly wrong.

Warning — truth alert: THIS ISN’T JUST AN AMERICAN PROBLEM!

Not only has every other country in the world (except for the oh-so-honest North Koreans) have faced every single issue we have. The deaths and overrunning of hospitals in the first wave. The lack of preparedness for it because it was a NOVEL virus … which means … NEW … you can’t be prepared for something that didn’t exist in this form before! The struggling to understand a new virus and treatment and prevention of it. The whole world faced this, not just the US. But, it is Trump’s fault, right?

Beyond the medical ramifications of the virus, the whole world has also had those rising up against masks and lockdowns. Other countries have also faced social unrest from anarchist-types. But, it is Trump’s fault, right?

It is disturbing to me that these truths seem to be buried because it is simply more beneficial to blame a President you are trying to win against. I am going to give you an additional inconvenient truth — the reactions to COVID-19, masks, lockdowns versus freedom, the choices between financial collapse and life exists EVERYWHERE. It is a HUMAN problem that we are facing globally. Those that are laser-focused on only blaming Trump for this — you lose all credibility. If you don’t like him or won’t vote for him, just say that. It would earn more respect from people. But, to take an issue that is happening globally and make it only about the US and in particular, the sitting President .. you are allowing your own biases to blind you to reality.

And, the reality is: THIS IS NOT JUST AN AMERICAN PROBLEM

The best classroom in the world is at the feet of an elderly person …

Andy Rooney

I remember being called on a freelance writing job over a decade ago. I sat in a large conference room with the ad agency execs explaining to me the gig. They had received government money to help recruit young people into the field such as LPN’s to help care for the elderly. They saw the looming influx of the Baby Boomers aging into homes and wanted to stay ahead of the curve.

Smart, right? So, I thought.

As I dug deeper to find bullet points and information I could use to create the ads, billboards and commercials they were planning — I asked how much they made. “Minimum wage, maybe a little more.” They continued to outline their plan and I stopped them again, “but, will they start paying them more?” I asked. “Probably not.” They replied and continued with the pitch. I obliged the rest of their meeting then returned home and made the call to pass on the writing work. I am a decent writer, but not a magician! How do I say to people, “Hey, come take care of people and get paid very little! It will be rewarding, but you will struggle to pay your bills!!” I couldn’t, so I didn’t.

Fast forward many years and enter COVID-19, stage right. The nursing homes are full of our Greatest Generation to the top level Boomers — our grandparents, parents and friends. They are the most vulnerable to this virus and they have been isolated this entire time — as we cry about our own isolation remember we CAN get out, we CAN see people. It’s horrible for all of us … but, they are the best of all of us and getting hit the hardest. They are dying alone. That is a painful sentence to write.

People are saying we need to protect them, but the staff is going in and out of the buildings. The virus is airborne and not always caught on first test. The natural things like Vitamin D that has been proven to help stave off the virus is non-existent for them as they are locked up — rarely able to get in the sun. It seems like a completely helpless situation.

But, is it?

It seems like what we have now are a lot of kids with too much time on their hands, people that want to line up and march, those that want to take action, but feel helpless. What if we stop fighting each other so much and focus some of that energy on the people that built this country for us.

1. Kids — parents, contact a nursing home, see if your children can write letters or become a pen pal with a nursing home resident. Andy Rooney was spot on, if you want your children to learn perspective … here is your chance to engage them.
2. Adults – Do all the parades need to be political? Or, can we arrange to stand outside their windows and let them know we are still out here waiting for them, that we care?
3. Businesses – Can we donate a lunch, protective equipment, something to the people that work in these facilities? I know they are underpaid and overworked and none of this is their fault.

These are just a few ideas and I am sure more people out there have more. In a world where they are trying to divide us … can we try to find a common good? Because this is one.

They aren’t just our “elderly population”. They are the people that taught us, loved us, raised us, worked for us, gave to us and we shouldn’t just “think” about giving back to them, it should be a moral imperative.

The last time I saw my sister truly alive was Christmas Eve 2002. The days after the phone call were a blur of machines beeping slower and slower, a beat marching me further and further away from normal. I never left her side in the endless days that followed, but repeatedly asked all that came and went, “please take down the Christmas tree before I get home”.

I walked through the curtain after the last beep rang a long flat tone and returned home, in a haze, without my normal, without my only sibling. Greeting me in the living room was the tree I had asked to be gone. It no longer symbolized tradition, love and gifts to me. It was standing there as a shining beacon of loss — a reminder of the last time I saw her smiling. Without thinking, I shook off the numbness I was feeling and replaced it with rage. I grabbed the 7-foot fully adorned tree, ripped it from its base and threw it down a flight of stairs leaving a trail of broken bulbs and memories behind it. I then ran to my bedroom and lay on the bed screaming out to no one that was listening or could head my demand, “I want my sister back!” I screamed and pounded my fists off the bed. “I want my sister back now!”

I know that some see these statues the same way. Even when no logic seems to apply, they represent something bad to you. But, I also know for many, the don’t. They represent history to them. I continued to put up a Christmas tree every year for my young children and the three young children she left behind because I realized we don’t get to CHOOSE for others what symbols mean. We don’t get to CHOOSE how people grieve.

Every time during this pandemic, I cringe when I hear “new normal” because I rather loved my old normal. I grieve for the days we were free, those that have died, those that are losing their livelihoods. Those of us that feel that way get chastised into not “getting it” by those that quickly leaned into the change. But, you don’t get to CHOOSE how people grieve.

The mask became the symbol for that change and they used it to divide us further. Putting away all debates over the efficacy, it stands as a symbol to some as a surrender to a new normal they do not want. You call them stupid for it. You tell them they don’t care. You attack and berate them. But, you don’t get to CHOOSE how people grieve.

When we decide for others how they are to view things, live, breathe and grieve — the results can be nothing but anger. We blame the media, we blame the politicians — but, it’s us, simply us. They can only manipulate us as much as we allow. Freedom isn’t a flag, or a Constitution, or a symbol. Freedom, true freedom is accepting that you don’t get to CHOOSE for other people how they feel or live their lives.

And, if we could all get that … this could end. And, maybe we could find our ways to the end of the grief, where hope and acceptance lives.