All Story Telling | kenisms

I Rolled the Window Down Today

Posted on March 14, 2019 by kwundrow

I debated with titling this blog as I did or “It’s Wisconsin, Wait a Week”. I was headed home this noon from a meeting and when I realized the temperature outside was now in the 50’s, the window had to come down. What a glorious feeling as finally, the spring like breeze slid through my open window and cascaded around the interior of my car. All that stale winter air trapped inside my vehicle for the last four months was pushed out and replaced by the hope of sunshine and warmer days ahead.

Now to be true, we need some perspective here. Just five days ago, the temperature hovered at five below zero with a wind chill of negative thirty degrees. Spring was something we wistfully spoke of but believed had been banished forever. With a foot and a half of snow on the ground and no warming trend in sight, hope had been buried somewhere under the five foot drift marking the edges of my driveway. My lawn mower hid timidly behind my snowblower considering permanent retirement.

The irony of this is that in another four or five months, we will treat weather in the 50’s as the time to pull out our sweaters and roll the window back up. We have been slowly cooled through our long winter to the point that 50 degrees somehow feels like we should head to the beach and at the very least don a short sleeve shirt. We are conditioned, slowly and deliberately to accept our fate. When the change comes, what was intolerable before is now not only comfortable, but enjoyable.

But wait, this too is likely fleeting. Give it another week and we may be right back into winter. What we need to remember if this unthinkable possibility becomes reality, is that for even a day, spring proved that she was not dead, just waiting to push winter back where it belonged. Spring will eventually defeat winter and will bring with her the promise of summer.

So what is this all about. Simply put, our weather is a metaphor for life. About the time we are ready to give up hope, everything changes. Hope re-emerges as a warm breeze ready to renew our faith. An intolerable condition gives way to new opportunities and we are reminded to never give up hope. If you are currently suffering through a tough time or maybe just the depression of a long winter, remember that tomorrow the breeze may just swing around to the south and change will bring back renewed energy. So for now, roll down the window and let the breeze in. With it will come a promise of better weather ahead.

The Gripes of Wrath

Posted on March 1, 2019 by kwundrow

I was involved in a discussion recently that reminded me of a story. Two stories in fact. The discussion was about the two different approaches people will take when seeking assistance. But let me tell the stories first.

The first story involved my daughter and I. We were traveling out to California for a family wedding. To get where we needed to be, we had to fly into Las Vegas and then travel by rental car across the desert to my sister’s home located between two mountain ranges in California. That by the way is a story to be told another time. I had reserved a room on-line in a Vegas hotel and found my daughter and I in the lobby of the hotel just before midnight. We stepped in line behind two women who were traveling together, and like me had not only reserved their room, but had prepaid for it. They were now in a heated argument with the only hotel agent available at this time of night. Their discussion, more than lightly laced with expletives, centered around their demand for a room other than the one they had already paid for. With a little eavesdropping, the conversation was loud enough that it was almost impossible not to eavesdrop, I picked up that though they had prepaid for the room assigned to that offer, they wanted a room that was larger and offered a view of the Vegas Strip. To make matters worse, they were demanding that they would get this upgrade for the same price. The agent was attempting to explain to them that there was nothing she could do as the offer they had paid for was through a third party. The bottom line was that they didn’t care, were unwilling to listen and had now decided to blame all of their problems on this poor agent. After what seemed like an unbearable amount of time and with the line behind us growing exponentially, a second and third agent were called in to pick up those of us waiting patiently, well reasonably patient. As I stepped up to the new agent, I leaned across the desk and said how bad I felt for the poor agent still being harangued by the two women. “No one deserves that kind of treatment.” She gave me a wink and then said just loud enough that the arguing women would hear, “I notice that you are staying with us for one night and reserved a room through our front desk. It appears I will be able to upgrade you at no cost to one of our nicer suites.” With that we were quickly registered and given the room key to a very nice three room suite on one of the upper floors with a view of the Strip brightly lit up below. My only chagrin was that I was sharing this lovely suite with my daughter as opposed to my wife who was forced to stay behind to cover her teaching duties. We had a good laugh about how most of the amenities would be wasted on us but were none the less impressed with our treatment.

Before I drive home my point, there is a second story. Last winter, my wife and I had decided to take off for a quick jaunt down to Florida for a brief four day get away. I had again reserved a room, along with our airline tickets, at the Marriott World Resort. Upon arrival, we checked in at the front desk to get our key. The young man waiting on us pointed out that the room was actually booked through a third party and that we were subject to the rooms set aside for that company. He pointed out that they would all be on the lower floors and could only offer a stunning view of the back of the resort and the parking garage. Believe me, at this point my earlier Vegas experience clawed its way back from the recesses of my memory and into my frontal lobe. I had a choice. I replied that I now understood my predicament and that it would be alright. I would chalk it up to lesson learned. What happened next surprised us both. The agent asked what had brought us down to Florida? We explained that we had both just retired, had gotten restless and with winter crushing us, just needed a change of scenery. His response was that he was going to check on any available room and then get cleared to upgrade us. The result after a brief five minute wait, a spacious room on an upper floor complete with a balcony and a view of the pools and surrounding gardens. No additional charges were levied and he then asked if we would prefer a bottle of red or white wine as a show of appreciation for choosing their hotel chain.

Now by this point you are thinking I am either an awesome negotiator or the world’s luckiest traveler. The truth of the matter is that I am neither. What I learned from my Vegas experience and that I have always known to be true is that you get a lot better service when you earn it as opposed to when you demand it. All too often I have witnessed the irate customer taking out their frustration on the one person least likely to have the authority or ability to do anything about it. I have been in a service career of one type or another all of my life and I know how much more likely it was that I would go the extra mile for someone who had earned it. When I find myself on the receiving end of service, I try to make sure I am at least attempting to earn good service. If the two women in Vegas had only considered their position, they too might have received an upgrade instead of even steeper resistance by the agent dutifully following the rules. They chose the gripes of wrath instead of a spoonful of sugar and for all I know are still arguing with the agent to this day. Okay, that might have been an exaggeration. If my wife and I had chosen to demand a better room of the Marriott, I am positive we would have spent our four days admiring our view of the parking garage while sipping our complimentary can of soda. Don’t get me wrong. I am not guaranteeing you an upgrade or a ticket to the promise land just for not complaining. There’s always the Gripes of Wrath if you enjoy going down that rabbit hole, but just consider how much better you and everyone else will feel with a little civility. Choose wisely the next time you have the chance. Parking garage or balcony overlooking the pool might just be the result.

One Man’s Treasure

Posted on February 20, 2019 by kwundrow

I had just parked my car this morning after a masterfully executed parallel parking job in traffic, when as I exited the vehicle, I found a quarter staring up at me from the pavement. Now there are several ways to react to this found treasure. Most would likely dismiss it and possible have never risked traffic to even pick it up. After all, what does a quarter buy today…a gumball or maybe an after dinner mint? Some would pick it up just simply because it was something. Still others, like myself, would see it as an omen and maybe even a message. I viewed it as a message. A message from my Uncle Len.

Leonard Wundrow was my father’s younger brother and the source of most of the Wundrow joke reservoir. Any time that Uncle Len would stop by the farm, and that was often, we would be regaled with a litany of his jokes and stories, many I am sure, the kind my mother would have censored had she had the chance. There was never a dull moment when Len was involved.

But the story I want to share concerns Uncle Len’s past time. He would go for walks, head down, searching for the lost treasures of those who had passed before. Those little pieces of change that fell out of the pocket each time you reached in for your keys or a pocket knife or some other small tool. A penny here, a nickel there and if you were lucky the occasional quarter or even half dollar could be found if you knew where to look and you kept your eyes to the ground. Uncle Len was a pro and by the time he retired and found hours of additional time to search, a veritable force to be reckoned with. His house held jars full of coins waiting for their trip to the bank. Each day we would get the report, the tally for the day of treasures found.

Uncle Len’s secret, knowing where and when to look. Near the parking meter, outside the bar any early morning or in the park the morning after the fair. Locate the beer tent remains and the treasure could be impressive. He would sometimes take us with him and we would be shown the tricks of the trade but sworn to secrecy on his high production sites. One morning, the day after the VFW Fair had pulled up stakes and rolled out of town, Uncle Len hit the mother load. After a productive area pass of pocket dropped coins, Len found, tightly rolled up, a C note. Yes, My Uncle Len had found a one hundred dollar bill! His glee was contagious, his question possibly a bit naive. He was musing as to why any one would roll up a hundred dollar bill into such a small tube. They could of used it for a straw! He even considered using it as such to which we immediately said “DON’T!” I will leave it with you there, just as we did way back then.

We loved our Uncle Len. He was a character that kept his family and ours always on your toes. When he passed, he left the missing person syndrome in every family gathering that followed but he also left his legacy. To this day, and to a person in the Wundrow families, we can not pass a dropped coin without hearing his voice saying “you gonna pick that up?” So you see, this morning, with traffic whizzing by, I never thought twice, I bent down, stopped traffic, and retrieved the coin. Stepping back onto the sidewalk, my wife asked what I was doing. When I showed her the coin, we looked at each other and said, “Uncle Len’s watching us today.”

Legacies are the essence of who we were that we leave behind when we go. I can only hope that long after I am gone, I will have left some legacy, even if it just a quirky habit like viewing the little things as a treasure.

It would not be fair to end this story without reporting on what we did with the quarter. We left it in the tip jar at the cafe where we enjoyed breakfast and shared a memory or two of Uncle Len. Anything else would have seemed sacrilegious. Who knows how many hands that quarter will touch or what it might help accomplish. Thanks Uncle Len. One man’s treasure.

Body and Soul

Posted on February 18, 2019 by kwundrow

Body, Mind, Heart and Soul, these were the words that piqued my interest today. I am currently going through a healing process and it has become clear to me how intertwined and dependent these four terms can be.

Let’s start with body. When we are not feeling well, when we have gone through a trauma, when our body needs to be healed, we go to a doctor. They diagnose the problem, assign a regimen of medication, maybe therapy or in some cases, a surgery. The medication assists our body in healing itself. Therapy or surgery, actually repair the damage and begin the process of healing. This is a physical process and in most cases the first place our system looks for the fix. But what if this is not the only issue or possible only a symptom of the real problem.

We might need to consider the mind. The body often can’t heal completely without the healing of the mind. The mind may be causing us to deal with anxiety. “What if I can’t get better?” is the question we begin to want answered. If I want a complete recover, I need to be ready in my mind to deal with the process. Sometimes, there is no true physical issue. The phrase “all in your head” comes to mind. It is true that the perception of pain is in fact all in my head. The pain is real, but it is the mind that interprets the inputs coming from the source of that pain. At other times, the issue is not physical pain, but emotional stress, possibly to the point of depression. If the mind is to be healed, we may need the help of a professional or at least the ear of someone willing to listen and help us confront the source of that anxiety. Just as we can heal the body, so can we heal the mind.

Enter the heart. In this setting I am not talking about the heart as an organ. That would include it in the discussion of the body. I am referring to the heart as the repository of our emotions. If we have suffered a loss, we could be suffering from a broken heart. Not a heart that isn’t functioning but rather a heart that has suffered a loss too big to ignore. At times we may be walking around feeling like there is a figurative hole in our heart. The heart may be the hardest to heal. It unfortunately, at the very least, takes time. Sometimes it requires that we must find a reason to move on. We cannot replace what we lost but we can use the memories to help us find the strength to move on.

And then there is the soul. To talk about healing the soul, we must first understand what it is. The soul is the essence of who we are and who we are meant to be. It is not a physical organ. We don’t know where in the body it resides. We feel it rather than see it. We use the term, “nourish the soul”, but what do we feed the soul. I believe we feed it a dose of purpose, faith and positive thoughts. Stress, lack of faith in people or processes, hopelessness and negative thoughts or behaviors, diminish the soul.

I began this piece with the statement that these four concepts were intertwined. That to truly heal, the prescription must treat all four. To focus on one and ignore the rest, leaves us only partially healed and vulnerable to a relapse. If we are to heal the body, we must heal the mind, heart and soul as well. The prescription must include the medication or repair that the body needs, the help necessary to calm the mind and then restore it to full function, the time needed and a reason for the heart to carry on, and finally, attention to the soul to restore our purpose and provide the nourishment to strengthen us for the process. Just as the doctor will recommend a regiment of medication for the body, knowledge and understanding of the healing process, including the time needed and the ups and downs that will inevitably occur, will help to mend the mind. For the heart, the prescription must include a positive attitude, the opportunity to both face and deal with the healing and strong belief that the people around us truly care and hope for our complete healing. As to the soul, we need to want to heal. We must restore our soul to the strength it will need to regain who we were meant to be and the reason to heal.

I have, over the past several weeks, experienced healing of body, mind, heart and soul. The surgeon fixed the worn out knee while the nurses and physical therapists helped me regain my mobility. Through the early stages of the recover, I fought with the anxiety of sleepless nights, recovery that seemed too slow and the stress of fighting through the pain. The physical therapists were there to encourage me and to calm my anxiety when it would block my ability to heal. My heart was dealing with the loss of my independence and mobility, but my friends and family, and especially my wife were there to listen and remind me that they cared. Their concern reminded me I was never alone and that I could feed on that concern to find the strength to keep working toward my recovery. As to my soul, it never left me. I knew the road ahead when I had made the decision to have the surgery. Each and every person who became a part of the healing strengthened my soul to regain what I had been losing; the positive attitude that had existed before the pain had begun to diminish it.

At sometime, we all face the need to heal. When it is the body only, the process is faith in the diagnosis. But never lose sight of the other three; mind, heart and soul. Each can be dealt with alone or addressed as a group. But in any case, we don’t really need to nor do we accomplish the healing alone. Remember that the people around us are the prescription we need to complete the healing.

On the Road Again

Posted on February 7, 2019 by kwundrow

I’ve been lax in updating my progress since getting my latest bionic knee. It’s been six weeks and I thought I better say something.

I adopted a mantra along the way to answer the reoccurring question, “How are you feeling?” My response has been, “Better than yesterday but hopefully not as good as tomorrow.” Two thoughts on this. First, it hasn’t always been true. There have been days where progress clearly took one step forward and two steps back but that is to be expected with this kind of recovery. Sometimes you work the exercises a little too hard only to wake the next morning too sore to do your best rehab. Fortunately, there have only been a few of these and they seem to be fading in the rear view mirror.

The second and more random thought about this statement, is that it really could apply in general. As good as today was, there is no reason to not hope that tomorrow just may be even better. If we can approach life with this positive attitude, we won’t be likely to miss the opportunities that can in fact make tomorrow even better than today. As I said, it was a random thought, but in this shut in, cooped up, measure every little bit of progress day to day grind, two hours of sleep a night routine, one has a lot of time to think pretty randomly.

I have with my past updates tried to recognize my heroes, the surgery staff, the hospital nurses and eventually the host of physical therapists. I added to that those friends and neighbors that have, without even being asked, stepped in to clear my sidewalk and driveway, drive me to appointments and just plain showed up when I needed a little conversation break.

Today marks the six week anniversary of the surgery. I am walking without a cane for the most part. My wife/ nurse / coach / still makes me take it with me outside of the house for some added support in this weather, but in reality, I just end up carrying it. I have started to leave the house now with much more regularity and have returned to my old bad habit of going out for breakfast and consuming too much coffee. I even returned to the gym a couple of times to start building back up what I clearly lost. I will accept the new aches and pains as something refreshingly different and just my upper body muscles saying thank you.

The big progress marker, I got cleared to drive again. Deb, bless her heart, has been driving me everywhere, and I have been….well a s**t about it. It is a difficult task to be the rider when you have always been the driver and especially hard to take when my style is, to put it mildly, a bit aggressive. I have a new and far better understanding of why our elder parents fight so hard when they are being asked, mostly told, to surrender their driving privileges. Of all our independent activities, most of them have no bearing if we can’t drive. Don’t get me wrong, I am not advocating for hundred year old’s out cruising the boulevards, but we all need to be a tad more empathetic when approaching that treacherous crossroad on life’s highway.

I am close to dancing, but just have a few more “stretches” to go. Their target, the PT people, is 120 degrees of bend and 0 degrees on extension. Currently my numbers sit at 110 and 4 degrees respective, close, but not enough just yet. As I near this end of my recovery journey, I want to thank everyone who has been kind enough to check on my progress and at times, to just be there for me when I needed an ear to bend instead of my knee.

With that said, I’m going to close. It seems I still have miles to log before I am caught up on my driving and right now, I feel the need for speed. Beware you drivers out there going too slow. This whole recovery thing has been slow enough.

Snow Storm Heroes

Posted on January 24, 2019 by kwundrow

It snowed last night. Not a small, push it off the driveway type but a real snow storm. As you know if you follow me, I had a knee replacement four weeks ago. Things are progressing but not to the point where I was going to be the answer to how does the driveway get cleared?

It was about 6:30 am when I heard it. That distinctive sound a snowblower makes in the still softly falling snow. Conner, our neighbor from down the block, was just completing a run down the sidewalks of our street and about to turn around on his way back for the second sweep. Shortly after, another snowblower could be heard. This time it was my 80 something year old neighbor across the street. Without his yet done, he was busy clearing mine.

Have I done anything to deserve this? In my mind, I would say no. Sure I have been a good neighbor and I have answered the occasional question related to my career expertise and yes I lend a hand when needed. But did I deserve this red carpet service?

I think it is a combination of things that moved these two neighbors to help out. One I would call the snow storm phenomenon. There is something magical about a storm that just brings people together in a common cause. Nature reminds us that in that moment we are subject to the power of the storm and it brings us together in a spirit of camaraderie to take back control. We form up outside our abodes and conquer the task of cleaning up. Borders are dropped and all needs become our common needs.

The second thing, that impulse that made my neighbor cross the street to clear my driveway before his, was empathy. He knew I had had this surgery and had vowed to my wife and I that he would be there for me if I needed anything. This is a drive that exists in each of us. Though we don’t always get the chance to follow it, it is so important that when the opportunity arises, we let that drive help us rise to the occasion. Don was there for us when we needed him the most. No hesitation, no mine first attitude, he just came across the street and rescued us.

Sometimes it just takes a little adversity mixed in with a snow storm to help us see those around us as the friends and heroes they are. We had two such people visit us this morning and I will vow to pay it forward. That is once I get rid of these crutches.

As a footnote, I will admit that I missed being out there in the storm showing off my snow blower and being part of the neighborhood snow warriors. But it was a pretty warm and cozy view watching it unfold from my bay window.

The Spirit of Christmas

Posted on December 25, 2018 by kwundrow

It has become a bit of a tradition for me to write a piece about Christmas on Christmas Eve. I am usually found keeping myself awake, awaiting the arrival of my daughters and their families for an overnight before the grand opening of gifts in the morning. This year is just a bit changed in that my younger daughter and her significant other, Eli, can’t get here until tomorrow morning. None the less, we will be graced shortly with the arrival of my older daughter, her husband and our two grandchildren. Adela at not quite two isn’t old enough to believe in or not believe in Santa but Jackson is another story. At nearing five, he is testing the existence of Santa by carefully analyzing the items left in his stocking and the wrapping on his Santa gifts. We thus have to be very careful in our scheming to keep the myth in tact.

Of course, you must understand that I still believe in Santa, or at least what the jolly old man represents. It is the mystery of Christmas that can only be seen in the eyes of small children. The anticipation of weeks of waiting to see if they will in fact get the gift they had told Santa they wanted. Jackson will not be disappointed as we have plotted against him with extreme precision. We were all tasked to find out what it was he was secretly asking Santa for and we have performed with the precision of a team of Navy Seals. His Santa gifts will be there cleverly disguised from his other gifts and for at least one more year he will hold the thrill of Santa and Christmas in his heart.

We all know that eventually the Santa belief gives way to the reality of where those gifts came from, but until then we believe. It is only once we stop believing that it becomes important to realize what the gift giving is all about. You see the secret of Christmas is to give it away. Give away the love in your heart. Give away the spirit of Christmas to everyone you meet. Give yourself away at Christmas. The material gifts and the idea of Santa are just representations of the gift of giving. Jackson actually said it best the other day when he told Mimi, “I know why you got me lots of gifts. You like seeing my smile when I open them.”

I hope that this Christmas you have enjoyed all three aspects. I hope that you had someone to play Santa for. That you got the gifts you wanted and that above all you found a way to give back. If you did, then this truly was a Merry Christmas.

My Christmas wish for you is that the blessedness and spirit of Christmas stays with you the whole year through.

Merry Christmas, 2018.

I Spy

Posted on December 20, 2018 by kwundrow

Just the other day my wife and I were looking for a quick breakfast before finishing the last of our Christmas shopping. Cracker Barrel happened to be right on the way. I had not been back to a Cracker Barrel in many years and in fact this was the one that my youngest daughter and I used to frequent for our father daughter breakfast “adventures”. The moment I stepped through the door the memories came flooding back. When she was a young girl, Saturday mornings would often find us seated at our favorite booth ready to enjoy a country breakfast and begin our game of “I Spy”.

For our early trips, “I Spy” would be played with pretty straight forward clues like “I spy a pair of old skis” or “I spy a red sled”. As she grew, the clues became less obvious and more deductive such as “I spy something I would need to ride a horse.” There was no end to the variations and the game stretched breakfast into a most of the morning activity. When we had finished our breakfast, she would beg me to play a game of checkers in the big white rockers they sold to their patrons and also made available for a quick game of checkers. We would seat ourselves by the fireplace and begin our game. The fact that she usually won might have had something to do with my graciousness to let her win but as time went by and thanks to her improving powers of observation, she would begin to win those games on her own merit.

As I said, all of these memories washed back over me and in a moment it was as if I was back there with my daughter soaking in the visual array the walls and ceiling had to offer. As my wife and I enjoyed our breakfast it dawned on me that the game my daughter and I had played was really an alliteration of the importance of observation. All those years, so long ago, our game of “I Spy” was preparing my daughter to be observant. Observant of the people around her, of the environment she would live, play and work in, of the opportunities the world would afford her. This simple game of observation would help her develop into the successful woman she has become.

Observation is something successful people practice every day of their life. Through observation we witness our differences and how those differences can impact our lives in very positive ways. Our individual differences allow us to specialize and to benefit from the specialties of others. In short we both depend on and benefit from each other’s differences. Observation also allows us to see things as they are and then to visualize how they might be made better or to work more efficiently. Observation allows us to recognize the opportunities as they present themselves.

I spy might be a kid’s game but its applications are a life skill. Take time to play the game with your child or grandchild but don’t stop there. Take the time to play the game with yourself. Be amazed with the simple observations you make and then enjoy the feeling as your horizons expand.

“I spy a world of possibilities, can you see them?”

Santa Claus is Coming

Posted on December 12, 2018 by kwundrow

Christmas is, in no particular order, a season of lights and decorations, gift giving, charity, Santa and the birth of Christ. If you are like most people, your Christmas is a combination of all of these. You likely put up a tree and decorated it. You might even have had a little family friendly competition for the best, biggest or craziest tree. You maybe thought about charity a bit more than other times of the year and likely put your change in the “red bucket” as you exited the store. You have looked for the perfect gift and checked it off your list once you found it. If you are fortunate to have children or grandchildren who yet believe in Santa, you found them Santa and thrilled at the excitement in their eyes.

I have two grandchildren and we recently did our visit to Santa and yes, the toy aisle in that department store. In fact, I got to spend the better part of an hour watching my grandson carefully inspect each toy, trying to find the one he would add to his Christmas list. Of course, now I need to sneak back there and make the purchase, knowing the reward will be his excitement as he opens the gift Christmas morning. This is a part of what Christmas is and I will not diminish it with a lecture on the evils of commercialism.

Christmas is a season of sharing. We share traditions. We share friendship and charitable behavior. We share the myth of Santa knowing that it is only a brief time in our lives when we choose to believe in him. My grandson, on his way to being five years old, is already showing signs of questioning the idea. He is testing. This Christmas he has established that he knows what he wants from Santa but try as we will, he will not reveal his request to anyone other than Santa. Oh, we will find out because it is our duty. The knowledge of the truth is another piece of childhood innocence lost. And so we will go out of our way to perpetuate the myth as long as possible.

This brings me to the story I need to share. It is the story of my oldest daughter’s discovery that Santa was a myth. Bailey had been holding desperately to her belief in Santa. My wife and I, with Bailey in tow, were out doing some shopping. My wife had stumbled onto the bargain bin of stocking stuffers and without realizing, picked out a couple of items and commented on how they would make great “Santa Gifts”. Unfortunately, Bailey was clearly within earshot and her reaction was predictable. Her tear stained face looked up at me and the question she wanted to ask was obvious. We took a little walk and eventually she asked the question. “Does this mean there isn’t really a Santa, that it’s just you and mom pretending?” I could have tried to cover it up or maybe even lied, but the explanation was in order. I explained to her that we were in fact Santa but that what was important to understand was that it was an honor and a responsibility to play this role. I went on to explain that Christmas was about sharing and that Santa and being Santa was a way of showing this. I told her that now that she knew the true intention of the myth, she had earned the right to become the Santa for the baby sister we were expecting. She would get to be the Santa for her. That next Christmas, Bailey did not disappoint. Christmas Eve found her putting out the Santa treats with her little sister and even stomping around the living room going ho ho ho after her sister had been put in her crib. Bailey never missed a beat those next few years as she added her own layers to the Santa story.

Christmas is about sharing. Being Santa for our children and grandchildren is a chance to demonstrate the spirit of that sharing through our gifts. We have an incredible opportunity to give from our bounty through our gifts and our actions and our willingness to share. That is the true spirit of Christmas. Model this spirit with your children and when they have outgrown their belief in Santa, invite them into the true spirit of the myth.

This Christmas, as you consider the perfect gift for that someone special, realize that it is the action of sharing that is the truly perfect gift. This is your chance. Don’t wait. Go be Santa to someone.

I’ve Been Down This Road Before

Posted on December 11, 2018 by kwundrow

In just a few weeks I will be repeating a process I am still all too familiar with. Though I doubt I will experience the complications of the first time, I know the time and effort it is going to take.

I’ve managed to put this off for nearly three years, but I am about to have my second knee replaced. Thanks to the marvels of modern medicine, and apparently a 3-D printer, this has become a rather routine surgery. At least that is what they say. None the less, I am not relishing the rehab and yes, in the short run, the pain that the rehab will provide. The only bright side … I know what to expect and I think I am so much better prepared this time around. To that end, I just returned from the preparation class. What was obvious, was the additional detail and information this time around.

Of course all of this is still a too fresh memory. I am committed at this point though I won’t lie. Every day finds me questioning my decision at least once and I am in that moment, tempted to call it off. After all, my limp is hardly noticeable and my pain, though …. a pain, is manageable. So why do it? Bottom line; the stiffness, the arthritic pain at night and the fact that I am feeling limited, has me believing as my doctor puts it, “why wait until it is so bad that you can’t do anything?” I have too many things that I want to do, for me to wait until I have even less time TO DO them. I have great faith in the surgeon and the team of professional assistants, nurses and rehab specialists that will be assisting and encouraging me as I heal and progress. And of course there will be my coach at home keeping me focused and if I’m lucky, a little pampered.

So I know I’ve been down this road before, but I suspect the ride will be different this time. Each experience prepares us for the next. I am prepared for this journey and am looking forward to my new bionic knees and the activities they will re-afford me. I was even told it could improve my golf game. Now that is something to look forward to.

And for my friends, “Don’t cry for me Argentina.” Shameful, but I loved the line and always wanted a place to use it. Editorial freedom is an earned right.

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