Vintage Reels, Clumsy Truth, Freedom

Vintage Reels, Clumsy Truth, Freedom

A new day. After several weeks of spinning activity, crazy fun and heartbreaking change, Jack and I are on our own with no activity. Perfect. Strategic Idea: a week of healthy consumption and no screens. Adventure. First: we dive into my office downstairs to explore some family history.  I teach Jack to thread a 50 year old 16mm projector. (He thinks he already knows.)  There’s nothing quite as nostalgic for me as the clicking of film through those gears. Yes, that’s me when I was your age. No that’s not Nana, Grandpa was filming the pretty girl dancing next to Nana. Jack tries to put the people in their proper locations on the family org chart.  Ours is particularly challenging. We pull out the 20 year old Sony camcorder and watch tapes of...

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The Undeniable Pivotal Impact of Fathers

The Undeniable Pivotal Impact of Fathers

Monday Morning. I couldn’t get this out yesterday. Fathers Day. In this week, I read two letters from two brothers, sons of the same man: one with joyful, gushing feelings of love and admiration for his deceased father.  The other with deep hurt and life-long damage caused by “a s— of a man” that needed to be painstakingly healed as a mature adult son. My own father, buried ten years ago, creating a pivotal point in my messed-up life. My blessing of Uncle Dad, who nurtured and loved me tenderly and made me know cherished. God brought him home a week after last year’s Father’s Day. The father of my two eldest children: I can only pray from a distance that they both have healthy love relationships with their father (I believe they do). My amazing...

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BLUE LIKE JAZZ

BLUE LIKE JAZZ

It finally came. Like many, I followed closely as my best-friend-Don (who I’ve not yet technically met actually in real person face-to-face) struggled and amazed everyone with the whole GET IT TOLD process.  The BLJ book, the other book about the making of the movie, the funding of the movie, the almost not movie …. (inhale) and now the public response. First of all, I’m jaded. I’ve been in marketing my whole life and since being sent by slingshot into the world of Christian publishing, media and marketing, I’ve seen the opportunity for God’s voice to be a little more, um, compelling. to a wider audience. As I toil over my scandalous  memoir and even noodle the screenplay, I hope like crazy that if He wants it told, my story...

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Scandalous

Scandalous

It seems like a good day to repost this. I got caught shoplifting when I was 18 years old. I know, I know.  REALLY late bloomer.  The security guard’s cold hand clenched my left wrist as I attempted to leave the store without paying for the pair of jeans that hid in my bag.  The crime took place in a Hudson’s department store in 1980 in a middle-class suburb of Detroit and my exposure to crime up to this point had been, oh, nil.  Actually, I was acting on the pressure of a certain girl-not-friend who aggressively befriended me after high school, so I went along for the ride.  Her dad was a Cadillac executive and I learned that she desperately needed friends and attention, which she habitually got by pulling daring and rebellious stunts like shoplifting...

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1971 Might Have Been Perfect

1971 Might Have Been Perfect

I love everything about this picture. Must be 1971.  Beverly Hills Village, in Birmingham Michigan. Most of our clothes were made by fabulous-mom.  I know the skirt Annie’s wearing was originally part of a full set of Singer-crafted, floor length Christmas “gowns” for each of us. I’m wearing an ultra-hip, extra-wide, cherry-red Jan Brady watch.  Alice’s culotte-jumper was likely  made out of a discarded tablecloth (Mom was the original Martha). Chrissy might be the only one wearing store-bought clothes, but they were probably worn by all three of us first. Is hand-me-down still in style? Mom’s in mid-sentence, asking the photographer to tell her when he or she is ready. Dad’s wishing Michael was in more than a...

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