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It's Time...

Graduation

I'm in Washington, D.C. for my daughter Christina's college graduation. Wow, the emotions are swirling! Just last year, our first child, Katherine, graduated from college. And now Christina.

It was a blink of an eye ago that I was playing at the park with Christina, braiding her hair, having tea parties, reading her Goodnight Moon.

I'm so very proud of Christina. She challenged herself and she made it. I'm excited for this new phase of her life. Graduating is a thrilling experience but I know, for all these kids, it's also scary because the list of unknowns goes on and on.

Where do they go? What do they do? Can they get a job? Does it pay? Do they have loans hanging over them? Do they move back home?

But for today, and for the next few days, I hope these graduates stay in the moment and let the questions rest. I'm going to try to do it myself. I'm going to pause during these festivities -- pause in the wonder of Christina and pause in gratitude for this moment.

I want Christina to pause, too, so she can feel this experience and so when her own kids graduate, God willing, she can remember how she felt in this moment and how proud we all were of her.

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Alzheimer's and Caregiving

May 13, 2013

But I Remember Who She Is

By Ellen Woodward Potts and Daniel C. Potts

I live in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and on March 30th, we mourned the death of Coach Mal Moore.

Most knew him as the University of Alabama Athletics Director who hired current Alabama Coach Nick Saban.

In the late 1950s and early 60s, Moore spent his college career playing at Alabama, and later was Offensive Coordinator for Coaches Paul “Bear” Bryant and Gene Stallings.

Coach Moore probably had more football national championship rings than anyone in history, a total of ten from over 50 years with the Crimson Tide.

He was universally loved by the Alabama faithful, a kind man who would quietly give football tickets to parents who wanted to take their children to a game, but couldn’t afford it. Why? He remembered growing up with little money in Dozier, AL.

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Tips for Transformation

May 21, 2013

8 Steps to Surviving a Medical Crisis: The Realist's Rendition

By Evan Handler

In the summer of 1985, when I was twenty-four years old, I think most people would have described me as a "promising" young actor (I'm not sure, and I'm not sure I want to know, how they would have described me as a human being).

I had already been a working professional for most of the past seven years, and had an impressive assortment of leading roles on Broadway and in films under my belt -- enough to be considered "accomplished" in many other arenas.

But "promise" is how we often measure things in this life, and the "promise" of more is what often motivates as we meander (or march, or muddle) our way through.

Then, in mid-September, after a lingering flu led me to various doctors' offices, I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, and told it was "treatable, but not curable."

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How I Did It

May 9, 2013

How I Did It: Yuchen Zhang, Founder of Pulse Café

By Yuchen Zhang

My mother and I are complete opposites. I love to ask questions and seek logical advice; she makes decisions based on emotions.

I’m not afraid to be blunt; she doesn’t say harsh things, even to mean people. We partner well, though. My mother has out-of-the-box instincts, and I excel at transforming them into executable ideas -– fast.

Then there was Grandma Wang, who I resembled in many ways. Two months before Christmas 2011, my grandmother was diagnosed with late stage pancreatic cancer.

We were hopeful, but the passing of Steve Jobs a few weeks earlier to pancreatic cancer was far from comforting. The first question my grandmother asked was, “What did I do wrong?”

Read How She Did It

A Quote to Start the Day

"Be honest with yourself about what you want to accomplish in your life. Sometimes admitting the dream is the scariest part."

Candace Nelson

What's New'

May 22, 2013

Giving Hope to Hearts

By Jessica Melore

Image credit: OldBarnRescueCompany on Etsy

I stood on the stage and paused for a moment, taking in the hundreds of little faces staring attentively at me. To my right was a wheelchair, a somewhat sleeker black version than the rickety one I’d used in the hospital.

Slung across my body was what looked like a large square purse to the kids, but essentially held my heartbeat. It contained two heavy rectangular batteries, each the length of an old videotape, connected to wires that led to a donut-sized heart pump implanted in my abdomen.

My jeans carefully masked the titanium metal bar that now served as my leg. I was 16 years old.

The program was called “Everybody Counts.” For a week, children in the elementary school tried out wheelchairs for a shift in perspective, and I was the culminating inspirational speaker.

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