Category: Friends and Family

What image do you conjur when you hear the term “Book Club?” If you have never been in a book club, you may be thinking “boring intellectuals” or “seedy romance fantasies.” When I affectionately mention my book club I see eyes roll or blank stares. I just smile. I love my book club!

We are the Literary Lattes. Literary means concerned with or connected with the writing, study, or appreciation of literature (Collins Dictionary); literature being books and writings published on a particular subject (Oxford Languages Dictionary). Lattes are … well … yummy coffee or tea drinks.  We meet once a month at a Barnes and Noble Café, hence the lattes. Usually we add a scone or breakfast sandwich since we meet mid-morning.

In my professional, working years, I had time only to read those things that furthered my knowledge of the position I held and the industry I was in. Once retired, I was starving for some intellectual stimulation, camaraderie, and the expansion of my realm of understanding. A book club seemed to be a good option.

Honestly, I tried starting my own, but after a couple of years, it fizzled out. The people I invited were not committed to process – read the book, discuss, drink some wine, eat some appetizers. Then I tried another but there was too much drama. The organizer was an extremely rule-bound, control freak – nice lady but so obsessed with the rules she created that members of the club began to drop out. That book club was a bit too intense for my retirement entertainment.

Now I have found the perfect match for myself. The group is small, allowing each person to have the space to share her interpretation of the month’s selection. We use one of the many free services available for scheduling and sharing ideas – Book Clubs. I opted to pay for the Premium version so we can have multiple administrators. Our book club is fluid and flexible, so anyone can send messages to others, create book lists, schedule meetings, and post reviews. In this way, no one person is “in charge.”  It works for us.

We select books four-to-six months in advance. If someone has extra time or wants to take along a book when traveling, we always know we can read a book in the queue. The books we pick come from various genres: historical fiction, memoir, occasional “beach reads”, mysteries, Pulitzer prize winners, best sellers, and so on. I like the mix. When I am not reading a book club choice, I can always read another book of my own liking.

Recommendations often come from friends outside our club who have read a particular book and shared his or her thoughts. Often, we run across a review or see the book mentioned so many times we figure “maybe we should read this one.” Almost always, we will read a book I otherwise would not have selected for whatever reason. This expands my horizons.

We read the format we prefer for the title and the time –hard cover, soft cover, electronic, or audio. Members have commented that the audio version provided a voice for the characters or author. Of the Kindle version eliminated the extras that appeared at the end of the hard copy.

I enjoy hearing the varying perspectives. Others find passages I may have skimmed over or validate ones that really “spoke” to me. We don’t always agree on the intent of a character or the author’s underlying purpose, be we respectfully listen to each opinion and openly and honestly share our own. How refreshing it is to be able to engage in civil discourse over the content of a published work.

Books can transcend time and place. They can take us where we have never been or where we wish we could go. And according to research, the act of reading stimulates one’s mental capacity and possibly cognitive longevity.

If you are a member of a book club, you probably are nodding your head.  If you are not but would like to be, check with your local library, look online, or even a local bookstore – many of which sponsor book clubs. You may have to try a few to find the right fit. Once you do, I believe you will find new friendships in the people who attend or in the characters in the book. Happy reading!

Today is my aunt Madaline’s 96^th birthday. Had my mom lived, it would also have been hers. Obviously, they were twins. Even into their 90s they still looked so much alike that people who didn’t know them well would mistake one for the other. We always got a laugh out of that.

Aunt Madaline is the introvert; mom was the extrovert. Both had a positive outlook on life and laughed often, as did their father, who had a booming laugh with eyes that sparkled when he smiled. Both were generous with their time and talents. Born in Kansas, they always reminded me of sunflowers, always “turning toward the light.”

It wasn’t until I moved my mother in with me and started helping her prepare birthday cards and gifts for her siblings that I came to the realization of the siblings’ birth dates. I was fascinated when I found that July and August 14 were the female siblings’ birth dates. March and April 24 were the male siblings birth dates. These days ending in fours make it easy for me to carry on the tradition of acknowledging my aunts’ and uncles’ birthdays – at least the ones on my mother’s side of the family.  Of the five of them, three are still living and in relatively good health.

The youngest was my Uncle Campbell. When he turned 89, he told my mom, who was a hospice patient, that she had to hold on until he turned 90 so all of them could be in the 90s together. He made it to 90 in March, just a couple of months before mom passed away late in May. We all got such a kick out of him. As with my grandfather, Uncle Campbell loved life, laughed often, and made friends everywhere he went.  We lost him in December last year, the same year my mom passed. I found that somewhat ironic.

Last month I took brunch to the youngest sister and middle sibling to celebrate her birthday. She had married a farmer, so her life was much different from the twins’ lives. My mother and aunt Madaline worked outside of the home – mom, part time. Madaline and her husband, a WWII veteran who is 99, owned a flower shop and a department store in a small town in Kansas, before moving to the city where my parents lived. The “boys” were a Navy captain and a business executive, respectively.  These siblings were close even though they lived in different states and sometimes in different countries.

On my daddy’s side, only one sibling is still living. She is a beautiful 83-year-old who looks like a 65-year-old. She loves to entertain, getting special dish ideas off Pinterest to fit the occasion. We celebrated her July 2 birthday this year with a tropical-themed brunch. (I make a point *not* to use the patriotic theme for her birthday each year.) It was a privilege to host her, her husband, and my cousins for a small gathering in Aunt Kathy’s honor. She is an amazing woman!

Of course, I like to celebrate my own siblings, too. Sadly, our brother is no longer with us physically but remains in our hearts. My sister and my sister-in-love make a point to touch base frequently – sometimes multiple times a day! While birthday gifts are no longer as important as they once were, acknowledgement in even more so. The older we get, the more we appreciate the gift of family … and of friends.

Saying happy birthday is just another way to say, “You are important to me. I love you.”

Yesterday, I dropped off food for the family of a friend who has just become a hospice patient.  I enjoy cooking.  I guess you could say it is my love language. So this was an opportunity to share my love and caring for my friend and her family.

How did this come about?  A few days ago I received an email from Meal Train. At first I thought it was a phishing email, but I noticed three of my friends received the same message. So I called one of them. She had the same question and was about to call a friend of the potential recipient. Unfortunately, it was not a scam. The request was legitimate. I mention this to say it might be a good idea first to let people know the friend or loved one is having medical issues. But I digress.

Meal Train is an online service on which one can easily set parameters in a request for help. Information such as food allergies and restrictions, acceptable drop-off times, and number of people for whom you are providing meals can be entered.  Suggested gift cards to restaurants and even cash donations can be requested.  The idea is to make it easy for the volunteers to know how to help.  The organizer sets up dates and times for delivery.

One nice feature is that everyone who has been invited to participate can see what everyone else is providing. I found that helpful to ensure I didn’t duplicate foods that someone else had already provided or planned to. The recipients get to experience a lot of different dishes.

We always say “please let me know how I can help.” But the person who is ill rarely will ask.  Sometimes they don’t want to put others out. Sometimes, they simply don’t know what they need. For the friends, we wonder how much is helpful and how much is an intrusion during difficult times. With the Meal Train, most of the questions are answered in a polite and efficient manner.

Meal Train sends tips and reminders once you sign up.  If participants read those messages, the information is valuable. One tip that wasn’t made clear but which I know I appreciated when I had help, was to take the food in containers that can be used to heat the food and then simply toss it. No one wants to spend hours in the kitchen away from the loved one. So many affordable disposable options are available, making it easy for both the recipient and the volunteer. In fact, I keep aluminum foil baking pans, “paper” bowls, and heavy disposable flatware on hand. Whenever someone leaves my house with leftovers, I don’t have to worry about getting my dishes back and they don’t have to worry about returning them. Win. Win.

Looking for more information I found other sites that provide similar services. Some of those are Give In Kind, SignUp Genius,  Care Calendar, Lotsa Helping Hands, and Take Them A Meal. Likely there are many others. Find a site, as these do, that allows you to set up a schedule at no charge.

Next time you need to organize meal deliveries to family and friends, consider using one of these sites. Once set up, coordinating and volunteering are easy, efficient, and very helpful.  Choo choo. I’m hopping on the Meal Train!

Mary Ann

When I was born mid-century, now an antique, double names were in vogue – Debbie Sue or Barbara Ann.  I was named after my grandmother, Mary, and there was a great, great grandmother who was named Mary Ann. I did not have a middle name.  However, the entire world for my entire life has tried to make me a Mary and Ann as my middle name.  I have never felt like a Mary.  I am Mary Ann.

For the most part I could correct my name by raising my hand or changing my name on the back of a document sent to me – you know, put corrections on the back. I tried using my maiden name as a middle name and the Ann was still dropped.  

I lived like this for most of my life until Social Security suddenly began to call me Mary.  For years, they used Mary Ann.  I guess with a new computer system or whatever, they dropped the Ann.   It is interesting to be in a Social Security office and have they tell you your name is Mary and you tell them no, it is not.  Sorry, that is how your state has registered your birth so we must use that. Oh, NO!!

Social Security then sent me to the courts to change my name.  The judge looked at my birth certificate and said you can’t change your name to your name.  Then he sent me on my way.  This was a bit frustrating.  I went to see my Congressional Representative.  Of course, I didn’t see him, but I got a staffer who was most helpful.   They told me to bring my parents to the local office, and they could verify what my name was.  My ninety-year-old parents went with me to the office.  They told the staff that I was a Mary Ann with no middle name.  The paperwork was completed, and my name was submitted as MaryAnn, no space.  A month or so later, I received a new birth certificate.  I then submitted it to Social Security, and they finally accepted it using my correct name. 

Thankfully, my parents were alive to help me correct my name.  I am not sure what I would have had to do if they were not.  I guess I would have had to hire a lawyer and go back to court.  For the most part, things have been better now since I have done the change.  When I get mail now, those who address me as Mary do not know me, and I pay no attention to the correspondence.  

Naming your child is one of the biggest responsibilities a parent has.  There are so many things to consider.  Does the name have more than one spelling?  Is it easy to pronounce?    Do the initials spell something weird?  Are you going to give an extremely long name to your child?  Think of a first grader learning to spell his or her name. It will take them forever to do this.  Sometimes a baby name doesn’t age well, and conversely, an adult name can be a heavy thing for little shoulders to carry.  Be mindful if you give a double name to your child.  Make it one word if you can such as Annamarie or Marianne. You can also add a hyphen – this is called a double barrel name and is common in many countries such as the UK.  Just know if you don’t, you are giving your child a lifetime of hoops to jump through.  I am living proof!

Some countries in the world actually have restrictions on naming children.  However, the United States is known as the naming wild west – anything goes. Elon Musk has used digits to name one of his children – XAEA-12.   According to the Social Security records, Olivia and Liam are the top USA names for this past year – easy in every way! 

I have just purchased my headstone, and I made sure that my name was correctly spelled as I want it.  I don’t want to go into eternity with the wrong name planted above me!  It has been a bit of hell on earth for me fighting constantly to correct my name.  I would like to rest in peace!!

Mary Ann

When my father was alive, he would attend a local monthly WWII Veteran’s luncheon, so one year I was home visiting him for the 4^th of July, and he asked me to go with him to the picnic.  Despite being in his 90s, he could walk so I just think he wanted company because he didn’t need help to get there.  

The picnic was at the local firehall, and there were about 50 people attending.  For once, I was one of the youngest women there. That doesn’t happen very often anymore.  The men were all greeting each other, and I was getting introduced to everyone. Maybe my father was showing me off a bit.  Even though they were older gentlemen, they could still flirt with a knowing wink or mischievous smile.  I was having a good time.

With each hello, I would ask what their role was during The War – there was only one war, WWII, for this group. They would share that they were on the beaches of Normandy or they freed a concentration camp or fought with the Marines on Iwo Jima.  I was talking to living history. The gentleman across from me at the table told me every few minutes about D-Day, and I listened patiently because it was important to him, and it was a memory he still had.  

Most of these men didn’t talk about The War when they came home, and the stories remained deep in their souls.  They had a lot of lost time to make up for and didn’t need to dwell on the tough times in their lives. However, as they got older, the stories seemed to rise to the surface.  At least, it did with my father.   His memories, his stories are precious to me now.

Well, after the social “hour,” it was time to eat.  We filled our plates with hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad, and baked beans – typical fare at a picnic.  Everyone was seated and grace was given, and birthdays were acknowledged with several of the men reaching milestones in the 100s. With each month’s meeting, fewer men were in attendance – The Greatest Generation was rapidly disappearing. 

 After the birthday wishes were extended, we all stood for the Pledge of Allegiance.  Old men in walkers who could barely stand did their best to rise for the Pledge.  They all did and loudly began “I Pledge Allegiance to The United States of America….”  I became so overwhelmed with emotion that I began to cry.  (Tears still fill my eyes as I write this.)  I was free because all these men had sacrificed their youth with their bodies, minds, and souls.  At that moment, I understood the meaning of the Pledge and why they fought for liberty and democracy. 

In this very divided time in our country’s history, I don’t think those men were thinking along party lines or if they were from a blue or red state as they stormed the beaches of Normandy.  They knew their purpose to fight for freedom and against tyranny. I will always be thankful for that day and the treasured gift those men gave me.  That may have been my father’s purpose in including me that day.  Daddy was always so wise, and there was a lesson to be learned that day.   

One of my favorite people is a vivacious friend who is always upbeat. She sets the bar for checking in with her friends. She is one of the few people who continued to foster our friendship during the six years I was sequestered, taking care of my mother. Karen called at least once every week.  The call may not have been more than a few minutes. Still, it was enough to let me know she was thinking of me and wishing me well.

Admittedly, I was not as good in the past. While friends and family were always in my heart and thoughts, I did not take the time to let them know. Several years ago, however, I resolved to do so. Even as a professional, I took time to write short notes to people. Handwritten notes are so rare these days that upon receiving one a person knows s/he is important. My staff appreciated the time I took, but more importantly that I noticed something they did.

Another friend sends greeting cards through the US Postal Service.  I would receive a card for every occasion, with a simple signature, “Love, Shelley.” My mother also liked to send greeting cards to family and friends. While the effort became too much for her, I would address the envelopes, write a sentiment if she wanted, and let her sign. This small act gave her joy and let her friends know she still thought fondly of them.

Written notes, while appreciated, are not required. Social media has given us the opportunity to reach out to friends and family in multiple ways. Posting on Facebook, Instagram, or X (formerly known as Twitter) is a quick and easy way to let others know what you have been doing. An email or text message is more personal as it is directed at specific people, so you can interact with others.

The importance of contact, no matter how short, cannot be denied. One never knows what kind of day your friend or family member is having. At times a brief hello can become the most valued event of a person’s day.

Of course, staying in touch takes time. Try scheduling fifteen or twenty minutes a day specifically for contacting someone you care about. A quick text message saying “how are you today?” or just a GIF or emoji could mean the world to someone.  A “hello – thinking of you” with a heart icon tells someone you care.

More mature (translate, older) people enjoy a good old-fashioned telephone call. And while cellular service end-to-end is not as clear as traditional telephone lines, a quick call can still lift spirits and put a smile on the recipient’s face – and yours.

Think about someone you care for and then reach out to them, today. The time it takes is nothing compared to the breath of fresh air you will feel.

During my caregiving years, people consistently reminded me to take care of myself – to give myself a break. While I knew my friends and family meant well by nudging me, I felt relatively certain they had no idea what my “taking a break” entailed. Much preparation goes into leaving for a few days. You are not just packing for yourself.

I created a “Caring for Mom” notebook with tabs for each category of information one would need to stay with my mother in my home. Once the notebook was complete, I could update it easily when something changed. Using a three-ring binder and creating the documents in Microsoft Word and Excel made updating information easy.

Sections included the “legal” documents which included her DNR, Advanced Directive, Power of Attorney, and Last Will and Testament; General Notes; Exercises; Daily/Weekly Checklists; and Medical. The tabbed sections were behind the page full of emergency and non-emergency phone numbers.

Another tool I used to help others help me was my trusty little label maker.  I labeled pantry shelves, kitchen drawers, tableware, and mom’s supplies. I even put labels on the knife blocks to remind helpers to hand wash the knives! I have to chuckle. My kitchen, bathrooms, laundry room, and mom’s bedroom and sitting room all reminded me of a church kitchen where everything is neatly identified.

Several meals and meal kits were prepared; the freezer and pantry stocked with carefully packed and labeled foods. Instructions for using the Keurig were taped to the beverage bar. Although mom was not a huge fan of “take out” there were a few restaurants she enjoyed. My computer browser stored the passwords and credit card for those, along with Shipt and Instacart access, so the helper could easily place an order for delivery.

I worked with health care providers to ensure there were enough medications to last through a few days after my return. Pill planners were filled for the entire time I was away. Extra supplies of disposable underwear, toilet paper, paper towels, disinfectant wipes, etc. were stocked.

Mom’s clothes were washed, ironed (where necessary), and hung by “outfits” in her closet. Instructions for washing sheets and clothes were taped to the inside cabinet door above the washer. How to set the dryer was also posted.

Much as packing diapers and formula and several changes of clothes are packed for a small child, every detail had to be covered. Even though I believed I had left nothing wanting, I would still receive daily calls – sometimes multiple calls in a day – asking where something was or what to do about “x”.  Getting away was physical but not disconnected. (What did we do before mobile phones?!)

Prepping for a “vacation” when caregiving reminded me of preparing to be away from my full-time job. It took a week or two to prepare to be gone. Upon return, it took a week or two to catch up. Sometimes I wondered if the time off was worth the effort. Of course, having a break is necessary for rejuvenation and mental health.

Should you find yourself in a caregiving mode I hope my experience will help guide you in preparing to give yourself a break. Even if you do not have the responsibility of another person, some of these tips may be helpful to others who at some point may come take care of you.

Mary Ann

When our parents build our childhood home, they purchased a lot that had a small creek along the one boundary.  It was about two feet wide and six to twelve inches deep as it meandered towards the Susquehanna River.  

The property had an interesting history before we claimed it as our home.  Early in its history, an Indian tribe had a village there.  We would find arrowheads and other artifacts when we were tilling the ground to plant.  In the early part of the 20th century, the property was an ostrich farm – the feathers were used for ladies’ hats of the time.  Mid-century, the land was used as a nursery. The creek remained central in all chapters of the land, and it was for our family as well.

When my brother, Timmy, and I were young, we were constantly in the creek.  We would build dams; catch crawfish, baby fish, or frogs; and one year, we discovered freshwater muscles.   The muscle shells had mother-of-pearl interiors.  We were sure we could make jewelry out of the shell and become rich. Childhood dreams!

Alongside the creek, we would build barns for imaginary horses and jumps for them to leap.  It was endless days of summer fun.  In any season, we were playing in or by the creek.  On snowy days, we would cross a wooden plank that bridged the creek allowing us to get to the ice-skating ponds.  Often, we would slip and fall in the creek’s really cold water.   Our mother was always thawing us out as we dressed again to go outside and do it all over again.  

 One summer, the creek dried up, and all the baby fish were in small puddles thrashing around to stay alive.  I caught a snake having dinner on the trapped fish.  I went for a shovel to end it days, and it was gone by the time I returned.  I had to save the fish so the snakes would not eat them all.  I got a bucket and filled it with water and put the baby fish in it.  I had to carry the fish to a big pond about two or three football fields away from our house.    I remember that the walk to the pond was so hard because the bucket was heavy with water and my hand hurt as the handle dug into my palms.  I had to stop often to rest.  Then fight the weeds to get to the pond.  When I got there, it was such relief to dump the bucket into the water and save the fish.  I made about three or four trips that day saving those babies.

We saw the water snakes as the enemy of the creek. This was before we understood the balance of nature. Eating the baby fish was just doing a snake’s job.  However, I would don my father’s waiters and grab a shovel.  Then it was off with their heads.  We cleared the snakes from the creek. I cannot believe I did that.  I have had several snake encounters over the years – another blog one day.  I keep thinking that it is all karma for me taking their lives, and it should equal out soon – I hope.

As we grew, the creek became less important, but an event happened that changed it all for my family.  There was a big oak tree that grew at the corner of our property near the creek, and by the tree there was a big metal tube that was used as a bridge for the farmer to traverse to plow the fields behind our house.  Stones surrounded the tube keeping it in place.  The tree had a Tarzan rope swing that we would play on.  All fun!  However, my brother, would climb the tree and throw his coat down and then lie at the bottom of the tree and say help me, I fell.  He thought it was so funny.  Timmy was a tease. 

Then, one day as I was feeding our dogs at the coop – the dog kennel – near the creek, I looked up and down came Timmy’s gold hooded jacket trimmed in fake black fur, and this time, he was in it.  He fell about 15 feet, hit the metal tube, and bounced on the stones into the creek.  My mother was watching from the kitchen window and flew out of the house to get Timmy.  She got him out of the creek.  He was unconscious.  She rushed to the car with a neighbor to take him to the emergency room.  I stood there in the swirl that was happening.  Off they went, and I was scared wondering about Timmy. 

Hours later my mother returned.  My father was with her.  I overheard words like fractured skull, concussion, and maybe he could die.  With the morning, Timmy gained consciousness and escaped the worst possibilities.  He did have a bad concussion.  He would have to be careful about any future head injury because it could be fatal for him.   I think his thick winter coat saved the worst of the fall.  The creek was not the same after that.  Some of it was our age, and some of it was the memory of the fall.

In years to come, my own children played in the creek when they came home to visit their grandparents in the summers.  It held the same magic for them.  Then years after that the creek became Terry’s Creek named after a neighbor’s child.  He, too, was in the creek all the time as we were as children.  It is a wonderful playground for children allowing their imaginations to grow, and each new generation of children claimed it as their own.

When my parents downsized and sold the family home, I went to take pictures of the house and of course, the creek. I collect stones from the creek for my parents, my brother, my children, and me.  I made them each a photo album to remember our family time there and a stone to remember the creek.  It was a nice closure to many years of memories.  Now, I do believe the creek actually runs through our hearts and souls and is a part of who we are.  Did you have a creek or a pond in your youth that still flows through you?

When I was a girl at home, my mother and I would make May Day baskets. We would fold construction paper into cones and glue or staple them to retain their shape. Then we would affix paper handles. Sometimes we would draw pictures or write words on the “baskets”.

Once we had made enough for mom’s friends and local family members, we would pick flowers and greenery from the yard, trim it to size, and stuff the baskets full of flora and fauna.

It was always exciting to create these lovingly made baskets, but the real intrigue was when we would drive to someone’s house just outside of view from the front, sneak up to the front door, and hang a basket on the doorknob before ringing the doorbell and running back to the car.

I remember one time I left one on the door of a friend whose mother I knew would be home. My friend’s father was a very stern disciplinarian and although he was considered a leader in our hometown community, I thought of him as mean and possibly dangerous. In reality, he probably was a normal man-of-the-house, but he lacked the love and empathy I saw in my own father. I thought the May Day basket would be a blessing to my friend.  Her mother remembered that one gesture for years and commented to my mother well after I grew up and left home.

Historically, May Day has various memories. Considered a pagan holiday by some, it was a celebration of Beltane – honoring the return of spring, rebirth of fertility and life – as it falls halfway between the Spring equinox and summer solstice.  In some traditions, washing one’s face with the morning dew on May 1 would bring beautiful skin and good luck. In Hawaii, the date is known as Lei Day in which they celebrate the aloha spirit and the giving of the flower.  My mother recalled dancing around a May pole at her Catholic girls’ school.

May Day also is associated with the Haymarket affair of 1886 in which worker’s went on strike in an attempt to demand an eight-hour workday. May 1^st was designated as International Worker’s Day and is celebrated in approximately 160 countries around the globe. The United States does not celebrate International Workers’ Day on May 1, as we have Labor Day later in the year.

Mayday is also an internationally recognized distress term that is used by pilots and maritime vessels to request emergency assistance. The term was coined in 1920 by Frederick Stanley Mockford, a radio officer at Crydon Airport in London. Mayday is the phonetic equivalent of the French phrase m’aider, which means help me.

For me, May Day is simply a nod to the flowers beginning to peak through the defrosting ground, welcoming the sun and brightening our days. It is a day full of happy memories from childhood. Thus, dear readers, I send you virtual baskets of flowers on your electronic doorstep and wish you a lovely spring day.

Why is taking compliments so hard? Do we really not appreciate when someone notices how we look, something we have done, a gesture, etc.?  For many years I found myself downplaying a kind remark from others.

“That dress looks great on you!” “Oh this old thing? I have had it for years”

“You are a wonderful hostess.” “It was no trouble; I just took the easy way out.”

“Your hair looks lovely.” “I just had it styled. It won’t look like this when I do it myself.”

“I enjoy your blog.” “We are still learning how to navigate the site.”

You get the picture. We make excuses, unable to imagine there is anything worth complimenting. Or are we attempting to be humble?

Several years ago I complimented a friend who retorted “I just can’t seem to get things right.” It hit me.  Was she discounting my observation? Was my opinion not worthy of her respect? Did she not feel worthy of being noticed? I began to understand that the correct response is a simple Thank You.

Cynthia Ozick stated “We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.”

If a simple thank you is difficult, there are numerous ways to thank a person. Thank them for being in your corner, always lifting you up. Say “I appreciate that” or “You are very kind to say that.” Even “You just made my day!”

For less formal interactions, “thanks” may be appropriate among friends, family, and familiar co-workers. Thank you, is more formal and may better express sincerity. You will know the situation for yourself and the person from whom you receive the compliment.

Regardless, it is important to accept praise graciously – to treat compliments as the gift they are. Be genuine in your response, maintain eye contact, smile, and never, never downplay the compliment.  In short, be grateful and kind to others.

Finally, I just want to say, “thank you for taking the time to read our blogs. We appreciate you!”