Magic, Meltdowns, and Mickey: A Nana’s Disney Adventure II

April 28, 2025

Last time we were together, I shared days one and two of my great Disney adventure with my son, his wife, and my two grandchildren, Sloan, who is six, and Oliver, who is four. Today, we pick up the magic with days three and four. On day three we kicked off the day with a trip to Hollywood Studios. By now, we had accumulated quite the assortment of merchandise—balloons, toys, souvenirs—and there was no convincing the kids to leave their new treasures behind at the hotel. The stroller had turned into a mobile gift shop. If the kids jumped out and you weren’t hanging on, it would tip backwards from the weight of everything dangling off the handle. Learn More

Magic, Meltdowns, and Mickey: A Nana's Disney Adventure

April 28, 2025

I just returned from a trip to Disney World with my son, his wife, and two of my grandchildren—Sloan and Oliver. It had been decades since my last visit, and to say things have changed is a gross understatement. I tried to prepare myself both mentally and physically for the trip, but nothing could have fully prepared me for what was ahead. I had my nails painted in Disney colors and shapes, my brand-new Mickey Mouse backpack was packed, and my Mickey pajamas and T-shirt, along with my warm-weather clothes, were neatly tucked into my carry-on. I was ready for adventure. The first shock came as soon as we stepped out of the airport into the sweltering Florida sun. That same morning, I’d scraped ice off my windshield back home. Now I was greeted by palm trees swaying in a humid, 90-degree breeze. Learn More

When It's Not Someone Else

April 28, 2025

I learned a difficult lesson several years ago—one that reshaped my perspective on life and compassion. It started with the distant wail of sirens as an ambulance sped by. I barely noticed it, continuing my day as usual. Then came "the call." My father was in that ambulance, being rushed to a helicopter that would fly him to a trauma center. He had fallen from a tree he was trimming, suffering severe, life-threatening injuries. Our lives changed forever that day. After numerous surgeries, weeks in the hospital, and months of rehabilitation, we brought him home as a quadriplegic. His remaining years were challenging, filled with hard-earned lessons. One of the most profound was this: It isn’t always someone else who faces heartbreak and hardship—sometimes it's you. That realization has stayed with me, making me more compassionate toward those facing their own struggles. Now, when I hear an ambulance, I no longer brush it off. I pause, imagine the family affected, and often whisper a prayer for them. Learn More