By now, everyone has heard the 9-1-1 call:

"Help me. I'm Amanda Berry. I've been kidnapped, and I've been missing for 10 years and I'm, I'm here, I'm free now."

Free at last. We didn’t even know she was locked up. Most of us believed she was dead.

The shock and celebration is starting to wear off and the anger will soon kick in.

Before it does, let’s pause to let the hope sink in.

Michele Knight was missing for 11 years.

Amanda Berry was missing for 10 years.

Gina DeJesus was missing for 9 years.

The lost have been found. They didn’t give up.

On Monday night, I was sitting at a restaurant listening to the students from Baldwin Wallace University dazzle us with song and dance when my husband checked his cell phone and whispered to me. “They found Amanda Berry. Alive.”

What?!

“Gina DeJesus, too,” he said.

I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t believe it. The story is being called a miracle. It’s more than that. It’s three miracles. Four, if you count the safety of the girl born to Amanda while she was held prisoner in the house.

I have never stopped thinking about Amanda since the day I sat on the couch in her living room and listened as her mother cried and begged for her safe return. Her mom kept hoping for a miracle.

I imagine that Amanda did, too, all those years she was locked away from the world. She never gave up. And now she is free.

Free to look at the stars for the first time in years. Free to see the sky. Free to sleep. Free to hope even bigger than ever.

Some people believe it’s dangerous to hope. They haven’t seen my favorite movie, The Shawshank Redemption. In it, Andy writes to his friend Red: “Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”

And once Red is finally free, he says: “I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.”

Hope. That’s what I wish for Amanda, Gina and Michelle.

Alive.

I'm stunned beyond words. 

She's been missing for over a decade. If only her mom, Louwana Miller, could be here to see her "Mandy" alive again.

Here's the last column I wrote about Louwana, the week she died.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

Every few months she called.

She always wanted the impossible: Find Mandy.

She wanted me to do more. Write another story. Call the FBI. Get the TV cameras rolling.

"Please, honey," she begged.

She always called me honey, though she was younger than I.

I never met anyone like Louwana Miller, whose daughter Amanda Berry vanished after her shift at Burger King on April 21, 2003. She had told her sister on a cell phone, "I've got a ride. I'll call you back." Then she vanished between Burger King and her home a few blocks away on West 111th.

Louwana lived in the upstairs of an old house. When I knocked from the porch, she hollered for me to come up.

"Shut the damn door," she barked.

She wasn't crying. She didn't act the way moms of missing children do on TV, delicately wiping tears with folded tissues while whispering pleas for help

Louwana was angry. She chain-smoked Marlboros. She didn't trust the police, so she put her own phone number on the fliers.

She would cuss out the very people who tried to help her, then she would apologize and sob like a baby, tears rolling down her big, puffy cheeks.

When I was there, she was watching a psychic on Montel. "We need her," Louwana hollered at the TV as a friend wrote down the number.

Before that psychic did her in, Louwana tried everything else.

She pestered the police and FBI for clues. She got people to knock on doors, staple fliers on telephone poles, hold candlelight vigils and prayer rallies.

She begged the media for more coverage, and we let her down.

She called me, angry, the day she saw the TV news offer a reward for a missing dog.

"What about my Mandy?" she bellowed. She called when CNN covered the woman missing in Aruba.

"How come she gets so much publicity?" she cried.

She told me she named Amanda from a Conway Twitty song, "Amanda, the light of my life." She still bought Christmas presents for Amanda and sat on her bed listening to her music.

Louwana started every conversation angry, cried in the middle, and ended saying, "Thank you for doing whatever you can, honey."

The last time we spoke, she demanded, "I want her on the news. She's faded away from the whole world. It just kills me. This is killing me." It finally did.

She got her wish to see psychic Sylvia Browne, who told her about a short, stocky Burger King customer in his 20s wearing a red fleece coat. The psychic said Mandy died on her birthday, that she didn't suffer, that her black hooded jacket was in a Dumpster with DNA on it.

The psychic promised, "You'll see her in heaven." That was Louwana's final hope.

Around Christmas I heard Louwana was in the hospital. It still shocked me when she died Thursday. I couldn't help thinking of how she took the faded yellow ribbons off the front yard fence, washed them and put them on Mandy's bed. How she cried, "No one cares."

The truth is no one cared as much as she did. No one could. She was a mother facing a fate worse than death: not knowing.

Every time I called the FBI, special agent Bob Hawk, who has since retired, would tell me, "We are working on it every day. We haven't given up."

Louwana did.

She died of heart failure.

Fail forward.

That’s what my husband taught me.

He’s an entrepreneur. Me, I want to get paid every Friday by someone else. I don’t mind signing the back of my paycheck. He loves signing the front of the paychecks.

I’ve learned a lot being married to the owner of a small business.

He’s a risk taker. Some risks pay off, some don’t. Actually they all pay off if you learn from them. He doesn’t let the fear of anything stop him. It simply becomes the fuel to drive him to work harder and smarter.

Along the way, he’s lost a few jobs but he used everything he learned to propel him forward and to give someone else a boost on the way. You can’t let the fear of failure keep you from starting a business or growing one or changing one.

A few years into our marriage, my husband lost his business. It was a scary time for us when he closed the door and was unemployed. But he taught me to believe big. So I believed big in him when he wanted to borrow money and start up another business, this one with a tighter, clearer, singular focus: Crisis communications.

He’s now the expert to call. Last year, he moved the company out of our house and onto the 32^nd floor of Terminal Tower in Downtown Cleveland. Hennes Paynter Communications is doing better than the business he lost.

I keep a paperweight on my desk that reads: What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?

What would you do?

Go do it.

And if you fail, let it propel you forward on that river of life that always carries you to something even better.

As I write, the manhunt is on for a guy who barely looks like a man. He's 19 and running for his life after taking the lives of others. A woman on CNN has just said she knew the kid and he was a nice boy who went to high school with her son. He spent years in America. The pundits have asked if that makes him a domestic terrorist or a foreign one?

Does it even matter?

I do wonder what happened to him and his brother along the way. How does hate get so far into a heart that it makes someone want to kill and maim people they've never met? Is there something wrong with their brains or their hearts?

I've overheard a few people talk about wanting to be the one to kill or torture the terrorists who did this. Haven't we had enough of death and hate?

I want to see all involved in the terrorist attack taken away from society and locked up where they can do no more harm. But I don't wish them, or anyone, death or torture.

These two terrorists, and whoever helped them, are still God's children. Strays, perhaps, runts of the litter when it comes to their capacity for love of their fellow man, perhaps, but they still have the DNA of the God force running through them.

Still, I confess that I felt relieved when I heard that one terrorist had been killed by police. Relief that he can't hurt anyone else. Not pleasure, just relief. Still, it makes me sad that I can't muster up a prayer for him.

It's not easy being a real Christian. The cost of discipleship is that you must love, always. Not some people, but all people. Love because that is who God is: love.

Love doesn't always feel good. Love is a verb, not a feeling. It hurts to even think of loving those who want our worst harm.

I'm not ready for it, not today, but I can't help thinking of that challenge Mother Teresa left us:

 "If you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only love."

Mail call. Here is a sample of some of the emails I get.

Thank you all for reading my books and for writing to me.

Marylou wrote:

"I recently purchased your book, God Never Blinks, for a friend of mine. Fortunately, I decided to read it before giving it to her. I could not put your book down. As a 48 year old, happily married, spiritually growing very blessed, mother of 4 boys, each and every one of your lessons spoke to me in such a direct way. I spent an entire afternoon reading your book while my boys were out at a birthday party with a friend. I even lit a candle as I did so!

I felt so uplifted, affirmed and assured that God has me on the exact path that he has planned for me. I used to always say that "God never sleeps.” Thank you for taking it to the next level for me. My goal is to purchase a book for each of my close girlfriends. I am blessed to say that I will need to purchase at least 20!”

I love it. “God never sleeps.” Sounds like another great book title.

Bob wrote:

"By the end of the day I will have finished reading God Never Blinks. I'm 75 years old (young) and have read a ton of books. I would place your book certainly in the top 5 of my favorites. Challenging, encouraging, inspiring, interesting -- and very well written. You are special to God! Be encouraged! God bless! Keep smiling!"

Laurie wrote:

“Your book was a stepping stone to starting my own blog and it is changing my life. Your work made me begin to rethink how I was approaching the everyday and often through the tears shed while reading it I was able to begin to see things a bit more clearly. Just in case, my blog is entitled: loveripples.blogspot.com. Thanks so much for the inspiration.”

Hildegarde wrote:

“What a blessing your CD book, "Be the Miracle," is to me on this rather grey Saturday afternoon in normally sunny Calgary, Alberta, Canada. I often listen to CD books while working on housecleaning or various projects, or falling asleep, walking the dog, driving, etc. At first, I started to listen to a grisly Amish murder mystery; however, over the past months, my spirit has become increasingly tender to God's Spirit and has been drawn to more inspirational, encouraging influences that speak to God's love and often miraculous intervention in our lives. I wasn't sure if "Be the Miracle" would turn out to be another one of those psychological "be your best self" types of cheerleader books, but I thought that at least it wouldn't contain gory murder details. I want to tell you that I was so moved as I listened to the inspiring true stories in your wonderful book that at one point I just sat down on the couch and cried happy, inspired, healing tears. These encouraging words are a way in which you are using your gifts from God to make a difference in the lives of others. Yours are life-changing words.”

Cheryl wrote:

"I just finished reading God Never Blinks. I wrote down the list of 50 things to do when you are 50 and noticed number 28 was missing. Intentional or not ? What is the 28th thing to do when you turn 50 ?"

Oops. Cheryl, thanks for catching that. It’s missing in some editions. Here it is:

28. Reflect on all the people you would like to meet in the next 50 years.

Writing empties you. So does life. You have to fill back up before you can create again.

So I headed to the closest bookstore. Mac's Backs on Coventry.

I had a small list. Three books.

I should have known better. Walking into a bookstore for me is like a drunk walking into a liquor store. As Kenny Chesney croons, "One is one too many, and one more is never enough."

None of the three books I wanted was available, but that didn't stop me. The owner, Suzanne  DeGaetano is a mystical matchmaker for readers. She can scan your head and heart in seconds and find the perfect pick.

I left one hundred dollars poorer but about 260,000 words richer.

She recommended, and I bought:

City of Thieves, by David Benioff

The Light Between Oceans, by M. L. Stedman

The Orchardist, by Amanda Coplin

The books that caught my eye and my wallet were:

Forgetting Ourselves on Purpose, by Brian Mahan

The Book of Awakening, by Mark Nepo

50 Ways to Soothe Yourself Without Food, by Susan Albers

The best way to soothe yourself?

The Billy Collins book of poetry I bought called Horoscopes for the Dead.

Here's the opening liine to his poem called "Hell":

"I have a feeling that it is much worse

than shopping for a mattress at a mall."

Heaven? I just left there, and hope to return soon for more books.

Why do we stay Catholic?

We Catholics get asked that a lot. Many of us ask ourselves that question.

We're talking about being Catholic on The Regina Brett Show this Saturday at 3 p.m. EST on WKSU 89.7 FM. I'll be joined by Father James Martin, editor at large for "America" magazine and Father Don Cozzens, author of "Notes from the Underground: The Spiritual Journey of a Secular Priest."

We'll also hear from Sister Mary Ann Flannery, executive director of the Jesuit Retreat House in Parma and Sister Diana Culbertson.

I was born Catholic, raised Catholic and educated Catholic. A priest picked out my name, Regina Maria. Only he’s not a priest any more. He left and got married.

For me, being Catholic isn’t just a religion, it’s like being Irish. It’s part of who I am.

Yet I hate what this Church has done, from the pedophile priests and the bishops who protected them, to the way they treat women and gay people like second-class citizens.

I tried to leave it, but the church won't leave me. I stay because of Sister Mary Ann Flannery at the Jesuit Retreat House in Parma who maintains that holy place of peace.

That’s where I met Father Joe Zubricky 30 years ago. He changed my life. I dumped in his lap all my Catholic baggage, my questions about purgatory and limbo and papal infallibility. Joe just smiled and said, "Only one thing matters. At the end of our lives, God will ask just one thing... Did you love?"

We Catholics stay because we have faith. Yes, it has shrunk to the size of a mustard seed, but we know that is enough. I pray for the Church, pray that it falls like a house of holy cards so it can be rebuilt. Maybe the new pope will do that. He’s off to a good start.

Those who cling to doctrines and dogma call me a bad Catholic.

They tell me to love the church or leave it. I’m tempted to leave, but I haven’t. Like so many of the faithful around me, I defiantly love this church even as I hate what the people in power have done to hurt the people in the pews.

Why stay in a church that seems heartless?

Because this church still has a heartbeat. You can hear it pounding in the pews, louder than ever, in the faithful who cling to those words: "We wait in joyful hope for the coming of the Lord."

There’s a reason they call a dog “man’s best friend.”

I never had a dog growing up, not the kind you have for a pet. We had watchdogs, Chipper, Parseghian and Holmes, dogs who lived outside to guard our house and garage.

My mom never let a dog in the house until recently. She probably figured having 11 kids inside was crazy enough.

My mom grew up on a farm. When her three brothers went off to war, she was alone out there in the middle of nowhere with few friends. She had one friend she never forgot. A collie named Frankie.

My mom is 82 now and talks about Frankie more than she ever did. She doesn’t have a lot of childhood memories, at least not the kind you treasure. She had a rough childhood, but Frankie poured love into it.

I imagine the little girl she once was burying her face into his furry friendly neck when she needed to cry or talk or share a hug.

A few years ago, I walked into her house and there he was, or at least a replica of him. My mom had bought a beautiful ceramic version of Frankie, pointy nose, tussled fur, standing at the ready, waiting for a bone or a toy or a hug. He sits in her living room, reminding her of the best life can offer from a furry friend.

Someone once said, “One day you’ll be just a memory. Make sure you’re a good one.”

Frankie, he’s a great one.

What does it mean to be Irish?

At the very least, it means you have to go to a parade, a pub or a Mass today.

What does it mean to be Irish?

One e-mail making the rounds says you're Irish if . . . most of your food was boiled, you swear well, you spent much of your childhood kneeling, you can't make a long story short, you're good at playing bad golf and your cousins hold political office.

Then there's the stereotype of the drunken fighter, which doesn't bother me. We came from a long line of people who had to fight to survive, then drink to forget.

What does it mean to be Irish?

It means you can't tell the difference between a wake and a keg party.

It means you call yourself Irish, even though your grandparents were born in Ohio.

It means you have that Irish coloring, which is to say, no color at all. You tan easily - in shades of red.

What does it mean to be Irish?

It means - saints be praised - every relative is named after a saint. Your cousins have the middle name Mary - even the males. Half of your female cousins are named Maureen. The other half are named Maura.

It means you have a coat of arms collecting dust on a wall and an assortment of shamrock earrings in your jewelry box.

It means you cheer, cheer for old Notre Dame even though your kids went to Ohio State.

It means you know every corny toast for green beer: "Erin go braless!" "Kiss my Derry air!" "May the floor rise up to meet you." And if someone doesn't approve, you tell them, "Stick a County Cork in it."

You've been to Ireland and kissed the Blarney stone, even after hearing that the locals pee on it.

Your kids tell Irish jokes before they hit first grade: "What's green and sits in the back yard all night?" (Patty O'Furniture.) "Why can't you borrow money from a leprechaun?" (Because they're always a little short.)

You come from a long line of witty folks like Brendan Behan, the Irish author who called himself "a drinker with a writing problem." William Butler Yeats, who, "being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy." And pool player Danny McGoorty, who once said, "I have never liked working. To me, a job is an invasion of privacy."

You joke about being Catholic, but wouldn't be caught dead in any other church.

What does it mean to be Irish?

It means you've sung "Give Ireland back to the Irish" at a relative's wedding reception. You cry when you hear "Danny Boy," even when you aren't drunk. Your family knows the rest of the words when your sister begins, "May the road rise to meet you. . ." at your dad's funeral.

It means you can still see the twinkle in your father's Irish eyes even though he has been gone 14 years.

It means you stick by your family, in sunshine or in shadow, even though they all suffer from Irish Alzheimer's. That's when you forget everything except the grudges.

Then there's this description of an Irishman:

"He's wild and he's gentle, he's good and he's bad. He's proud and he's humble, he's happy and sad. He's in love with the ocean, the earth and the skies. He's enamored with beauty wherever it lies. He's victor and victim, a star and a clod, but mostly he's Irish - in love with his God."

We're doing a radio show this week on hair, which made me think about that brief time in my life when I was bald.

You get a new appreciation for hair once you’ve lost all of yours. I lost my hair to chemotherapy 15 years ago. It grew back months later, but the experience left a mark on me.

When you lose all your hair you lose a measure of security, self worth and beauty that you never knew to be false. People stare at you. Friends don't recognize you. You don't even recognize yourself.

But in time a strange transformation happens. You become real in a way that you never were. In "The Velveteen Rabbit," a children's book, a new stuffed rabbit asks an old scruffy toy horse what it means to be real.

"Real isn't how you are made,” the horse explains. “It's a thing that happens to you.” A thing that happens when life strips away all outer appearances to leave what is truly essential. Not everyone has the eyes to see or the heart to experience that essence.

Those who do make your spirit soar, kind strangers who compliment you on what a nicely shaped head you have.

Of course I celebrated my hair's return, but I liked the freedom the lack of hair gave me: freedom from shampoo, conditioner, and blow dryers. Freedom from gray hair, split ends, and expensive haircuts. Freedom from bad haircuts and bad hair days, since every day bald is a no hair day. Freedom from what people think of my hair and from what I think they're thinking

The downside follicle fallout? There was no longer a buffer zone between my head and everything it hit, like the car trunk or tools hanging in the garage. There was no hair to warn that objects are closer than they appear without hair.

After losing your hair, you notice everyone else's hair, at first in envy and awe. Then you start to critique it, you note the length, the color, how crooked the part is, how split the ends are. You discover that even with no hair, you still look better than 50 percent of the population.

The chemo room kept me holding my bald head high. One day I sat next to a woman who was hiding her bald head under a blue bandana. As we talked, she pushed the bandana aside, as if to acknowledge this badge of courage was not something to hide.

Like me, she knew becoming real isn't easy, but it's worth it, as the toy horse explained to the Velveteen Rabbit when he said: “Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.”

And those people don't matter.

Writing has always been my therapy, ever since I started keeping a diary in grade school after reading, “Harriet the Spy.”

A journal was my best friend when I felt alone, my soul mate when I had none, my sounding board when no one else in the world could understand me.

When I got cancer 15 years ago, writing saved me from despair. Instead of wearing out my family with my fear and sadness and pain, I wore out my pen. Writing lifted me up when I was bald and scared and so unsure there was a future to look forward to.

I also found strength in the writing of others. I loved the poetry of Billy Collins, Mary Oliver and this one, by Wendell Berry:

There is No Going Back

“No, no, there is no going back.

Less and less you are

that possibility you were.

More and more you have become

 those lives and deaths

that have belonged to you.

You have become a sort of grave

containing much that was

and is no more in time, beloved

 then, now, and always.

And so you have become a sort of tree

standing over a grave.

Now more than ever you can be

 generous toward each day

 that comes, young, to disappear forever,

and yet remain

 unaging in the mind.

Every day you have less reason

 not to give yourself away.”

Beautiful, isn’t it?

“Be generous toward each day that comes.” Especially the day you are in.

For the longest time, my life looked like a broken road full of detours and potholes. In college, I flunked chemistry, changed my major six times, got pregnant at 21 and dropped out of school.

            What a failure. The future overwhelmed me. Then one day a friend said: Just do the next right thing.

            That’s it?

            I can do that.

            Usually we know the next step to take but it’s so small we don’t see it because our vision is focused too far ahead and all we can see is a big, scary leap instead of a small simple step. So we wait. And wait. And wait as if the Master Plan will be revealed in a massive blueprint rolled out like a red carpet at our feet.

            Even if it were, we’d be too scared to step onto it.

            I wanted to finish college and find a career I loved instead of a job I tolerated. How would I find it?

            One day my mom said “Just get a course catalog.”

            That’s it?

            I can do that. So I got the catalog to Kent State University, read every course description from Anthropology to Zoology and marked every class I found interesting. What got the most marks?

Writing.

So I took one writing class. Then another. Then another.

            When in doubt, do the next right thing. It's usually something quite small. As E.L. Doctorow said, writing a book is like driving a car at night. “You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”

            That philosophy applies to life, too. The headlights on my car shine 350 feet, but even with that much light, I can travel all the way to California. I only need to see enough light to get moving.

I graduated with a journalism degree from Kent State when I turned 30. I’ve spent 26 years as a journalist. I’m now a published author and a radio host. I did it all just by taking the next right step.  

             The secret to success isn’t to dwell on all the steps it will take or to stare into the abyss at the giant leap it will take. One small step and then another is all it takes to raise a child, to get a degree, to write a book, to do whatever it is your heart desires.

What’s your next right step? Whatever it is, take it.

A lot of couples get hitched on Valentine's Day and start planning the big wedding.

So much time and money is spent on it, the wedding can overshadow the marriage. You can get lost in the stress over the cake, the band, the hall, the food, the flowers, the gown.

When the wedding is over, the real work begins: The marriage.

How do you do stay best friends and in love? Here's what I've learned in 16 years of marriage:

1. Agree to disagree. No one has to win or lose an argument. You can have different opinions and views and honor and celebrate the differences.

2. When you both get stuck, pause and reboot. Go for a walk. Listen to music. Take a breather to reboot yourself and the relationship.

3. Take the aerial view. How important is this problem in the scheme of the entire marriage? Extend your view to see all the good your spouse did last week, last month, last year.

4. Remind each other constantly, "We're in this for the long haul." That got us through a year of cancer treatments. A marriage will have rough moments or months. That’s when you truly live those wedding vows to love, honor and cherish.

5. If a relationship has to be secret, you shouldn't be in it. If you can't tell your spouse about the lunch you're having with an old lover, cancel the lunch date. Honesty isn't just about telling the truth, it's also about not withholding it.

6. If you don't ask, you don't get. Speak up for what you want. Don't expect your partner to read your mind on Valentine's Day, your birthday or even on Tuesday. You won't get everything you ask for, but if you don't ask, you've already given yourself a "no."

7. Be kind. If you think an unkind thought, it doesn't have to tumble out of your mouth. You aren't a gumball machine.

8. Enhance each other's lives. Every morning, ask yourself: What can I do to enhance my partner's life?

9. Listen without your toolbox. Sometimes people don't want you to fix the problem, they just want you to listen. That's all, but sometimes, that's everything.

10. You are in charge of your own joy. Light your own inner sparkler. No one can snuff it out but you. Keep it lit and you’re guaranteed to live happily ever after.

www.reginabrett.com

The six inches between your right ear and left ear make all the difference in your sex life. 

I just finished taping a show about women and sex for The Regina Brett Show on WKSU 89.7. It airs on Saturday, Feb. 9 at 3 p.m. and can be heard on podcast at www.wksu.org/regina

My guests were Shannon Ethridge, Erika Harper and Dr. Sheryl Kingsberg from University Hospitals. I'm 56 and still had so much to learn about passion, intimacy and how to love the body I'm in. Shannon had me in stitches.

Here are some of the things I learned:

It's not about how often you have sex, but how deeply you feel connected to yourself and your partner when you do.

Use it or lose it. As women age, things change. If you've lost interest in sex or find it painful, talk to your OB/GYN about how to get help.

What's the norm? "Norm is a guy in Brooklyn and normal is a setting on the dryer," Shannon said.

Desire consists of three things: Your drive, your beliefs and your motivation.

Take time to love the skin you're in. Love it as is.

Get enough sleep, vitamin and exercise.

If it's not fun, don't do it. Period.

Find ways to be intimate beyond the bedroom. Hold hands. Touch each other ten times a day. Use each other's name. Don't just say baby or honey. Call the person you love by their name as often as you can.

If you want more romance in your life, start by loving the woman you see in the mirror. The more you love yourself, the more love you have to offer someone else.

We the people, witnessed our 44th president give his inaugural address today in front of a stunning backdrop of red, white and blue banners, bunting and flags.

How fitting that Barack Obama put his hand on Lincoln's Bible on Martin Luther King Day to become our president once more.

When I saw the movie "Lincoln" I wept at the end, not because Lincoln was shot, but because any dream he had has been exceeded by the great reality we are living. I sat in that theater sobbing over what Lincoln might think of us now, this great nation governed by an African American president, elected not once, but twice.

My grandbabies are growing up knowing that the greatest office of the land can be held by a person of color. My little granddaughter, Ainsley, calls the president "Bamma." I hope that as she grows up, she'll see a woman hold that great office and know that it is not beyond the reach of her gender.

What a day to celebrate and remember, that we are all created equal, to know always that is the star that guides us.

"We, the people, declare today that the most evident of truths -- that all of us are created equal - is the start that guides us still; just as it guided our forbearers through Seneca Falls and Selma and Stonewall, just as it guided all those men and women, sung and unsung, who left footprints along this great Mall, to hear a preacher say that we cannot walk alone, to hear a King proclaim that our individual freedom is inextricably bound to the freedom of every soul on earth." - President Barack  Obama.

Tomorrow, it comes out in paperback. 

People often ask me why I wrote it.

My life has been full of miracles. Growing up with ten siblings, being a single mom for 18 years and getting through breast cancer all taught me that we're all here to be the miracle for others.

Imagine what would happen if each of us decided to be the miracle for someone else.

How do you do that? All you have to do is make a beginning:

1. Start where you are.

2. Get busy on the possible.

3. You can make a big difference, no matter how little you make.

4. Magnify the good.

5. Do your best and forget the rest. It could simply be too soon to tell.

6. We all do the same things. It's how we do them that makes the difference.

7. Interruptions are divine assignments.

8. Adjust your own oxygen mask before helping others, or you'll be of no use to anyone-- including you.

9. Instead of treating people the way you want to be treated, treat people the way they want to be treated.

10. If you want to see a miracle, be the miracle.

11. Everyone matters to somebody.

12. Speak up for others, especially when they aren't present to speak up for themselves.

13. Give birth to yourself every day.

14. Sometimes it's enough to make one person happy.

15. The secret of life is no secret. It's sprinkled all over your life.

16. If you can't be the rock, be the ripple.

17. Give as if the world is your family, because it is.

18. Everyone is either your student or your teacher. Most people are both.

19. Pray like you mean it.

20. Arrive early.

21. Dream big.

22. Consult your own soul. Deep inside you already know the answers you need.

23. Get in the game.

24. God doesn't always call the strong. Sometimes you have to be weak enough to serve.

25. When you have nothing but faith, you have enough.

26. Be a good monk. Make your life a prayer.

27. Believe in abundance.

28. Shine your light, no matter how dark the world around you appears.

29. Comfort the sick. When everyone else flees, be the one who stays.

30. You have an endless supply of abundance from a wealthy Father who loves you, and so does everyone else.

31. Carry as you climb.

32. Be an original. Forge your own path.

33. Harness the power of hope.

34. Watch well your words. Practice restraint of tongue and pen.

35. No matter what happens, don't take it personally. Take it spiritually.

36. The world needs your Yes!

37. Empower your power by joining forces.

38. You are a child's most important teacher.

39. What you think about, you bring about.

40. Aim higher.

41. Make someone else's dream come true.

42. Triage.

43. A saint is someone who knows how much God loves them.

44. Don't quit before the miracle happens.

45. Make amends as soon as you can, while you still can.

46. Silence the noise. In times of doubt or indecision, pause and make room for God.

47. To be a channel of peace, you have to stay open.

48. God will not have His work made manifest by cowards.

49. Leave a legacy time can't erase.

50. If you woke up today, God isn't through with you yet.

      www.reginabrett.com

There were days during cancer when I wondered if God might be through with me, when I was bald, sick and too weak to walk around the block.

That was 15 years ago.

Every day above ground is one big miracle.

They have become an internet chain letter and traveled the globe. They continue to make the rounds. People often add the words, "Regina Brett, who is 90..."  

Someone recently added a picture of an elderly woman with thick black glasses and lots of turquoise jewelry and said it's me. There's also a photo of a grey-haired woman smoking a big fat cigar that's supposed to be me.

Kim S. just sent this email:

"I Googled you because I saw your 45 life lessons column on Facebook...you were credited as the writer, but in the process you also became a really hip 90 year old (picture was included)! I wanted to share it with some of my friends, so I always like to verify the author. I will share it from your page....as I'm nearing 50, I feel so many of these are relevant. Thanks for taking the time to make the list."

Ashley wrote:

"I am hoping you can shed some light on the well-documented mix up of you being 90 years of age - might you know who the elderly lady donned in the bright threads and turquoise jewelery is? The one often pictured with the amended article of yours all over the Internet? Thanks for the joy you bring forth with your words! You are a fantastic writer."

Michelle wrote:

"I am now your biggest fan. (And I have honestly never told anyone that, before) That lovely posting with the fabulous "90-year-old Regina" is making the Facebook rounds. As with most things I see on the internet and social media I decided to do a little fact checking. I'm a reporter at the NBC affiliate in Tulsa, OK so it's a hazard of the job. Your writings are delightful, inspiring, funny, wise and I totally forgive you for not being a nonagenarian with a penchant for over-the-top fashion. Thanks for sharing your gifts."

Jenn wrote:

"LOL I just saw something on facebook that said you were 90. I have read your books and I didn't think you were 90 so I googled you and then corrected my friend who had posted it and being in my 50's I thought...geez I had better tell her what is going on BUT you already knew! Love what you wrote. Love your books and love your sense of humor. From your website photo you look great for 90 yrs. :)"

Jason thought I was a man:

"So, I'm just curious about this 90-year old gentleman. Do you know him? Are you the original source that cited his 45 lessons? Cheers, Jason"

Thanks for all the fact checking you did to discover me and the truth about my youth. Feel free to share my 50 life lessons. You can find the authentic, original list on my home page to post on Facebook, blogs, etc. If you do share them, please include my website www.reginabrett.com so people can find me.

And I hope one day that internet age mix up comes true and I get to see my odometer turn over to 90.

It becomes her compass point, her guide for the entire year.

Last year, she chose "joy." This year, for 2013, she chose "grace."

What word would you pick?

The St. Francis Prayer offers a lot of options. I read it every day as my personal mission statement:

"Lord, make me a channel of Your peace;
that where there is hatred, let me bring love;

where there is wrong, let me bring the spirit of forgiveness;
where there is discord, let me bring harmony;

where there is error, let me bring truth;
where there is doubt, let me bring faith;

where there is despair, let me bring hope;
where there are shadows, let me bring light;
where there is sadness, let me bring joy.

Lord, grant that I may seek rather to comfort than to be comforted;

to understand, than to be understood;
to love, than to be loved.

For it is by self-forgetting that one finds.
It is by forgiving that one is forgiven.
It is by dying that one is born into eternal life."

Peace.

Love.

Forgiveness.

Harmony.

Truth.

Faith.

Hope.

Light.

Joy.

Comfort.

Whatever word you choose, may it warm your heart and be a light to others all year long.

It’s that time of year, the end of a year, to reflect on what’s behind and what’s ahead.

It's nearing the clean slate we call a new year. It’s that time where we make New Year's resolutions.

But as my sister, Joan, once said, if she had something on her to-do list all year and hadn't completed it by the end of the year, she wasn't going to drag it kicking and screaming into a fresh new year.

As Oscar Wilde said, "Resolutions are simply checks that men draw on a bank where they have no account."

If your account is empty, join the club. Resolve to make no resolutions for the year. Simply live the best version of the life you've already created.

Why not do more of what enhances your life and the lives of others? Not in the span of a whole year, but in the slice of a moment.

We don't live a year at a time, we live moment by precious moment.

Added up, they count as the measure of our entire lives. The dash between the starting and finishing dates on our tombstone is formed by moments, not by year stacked upon year stacked upon year.

As two thousand twelve fades into a grand finale at midnight, I don't have it in me to urge anyone to seize the day. A day is too long to hold onto.

But a moment? That we can grab. I love this quote by Marie Beynon Ray:

"Begin doing what you want to do now. We are not living in eternity. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand, and melting like a snowflake. Let us use it before it is too late."

Here's to living the moments.

May they sparkle like stars and brighten all the lives around you in the new year.

            I know it’s odd for a journalist to admit this, but I can’t watch the news.

            I haven’t turned on the TV to watch one minute of the Sandy Hook school shooting coverage. No amount of time in front of the television set will bring those little angels back.

            When I first heard about the shooting, I called my daughter to tell her not to have the radio on in the car or the TV news on at home to protect my grandchildren from hearing about it.

            My grandson, Asher, is 3. He’s learning from other boys that there are such things as guns. We don’t own one. Neither do his parents. Neither do most people in our circle of friends.

            Asher is starting to ask about them. What do you use a gun for?

            What do you tell a child? Why do people own guns?

To shoot targets? To kill animals? To kill people? To feel safer?

            I get that we have a Second Amendment. I respect our Constitution and our right to bear arms, but I don’t believe there should be no restrictions on that right.

            We have a First Amendment that protects free speech and the press, yet I can’t just say or write anything about anybody. There are libel laws, privacy laws and slander laws to protect us all. Those laws aren’t called speech control. Or press control.

            Perhaps that’s where we erred. We named it gun control.

Let’s reframe the issue and call it what we should have all along: gun safety.

            No matter where you stand politically, it’s time for a conversation about what is the best way to protect us all, especially our children.

Let’s acknowledge that there exists a fragile balance between individual freedom and what keeps us all safe as a community.

Let’s find a place where we can honor both. Let’s explore how we can protect both our rights and our lives, especially the lives of the children in our schools.

Let’s come together on this as parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents instead of shouting at each other as conservatives or liberals with separate agendas.

Let’s have one agenda: To do what is best to keep our children safe.

We can't control what happened. We can't undo the school shooting. What we can do is choose how we're going to respond to it. We can all make that choice a conscious one and respond with prayer, peace, compassion and love toward each other.

The world doesn’t need more anger, noise, confusion and hate toward anyone, not the shooter, not his family, not gun enthusiasts or those who want to limit access to guns.

            This can be our finest hour if we use it to reflect on how to make the world a safer place for all while preserving those delicate freedoms our founding fathers put in place for the future.

            As we struggle to find our way, may the God who loves us all bring the deepest comfort and peace to the families of those who died and allow those children, those precious lost little ones, to be our beacons of light as we find our way through this darkness.         

It's a simple word.

A word that can change your life forever.

Twenty years ago today I said yes.

My whole life I had been searching for Mr. Right but kept settling for Mr. Right Now.

It took five years of counseling to undo my mistrust of men, my fear of rejection, my deep sense of being unworthy. It took a few more years of retreats to trust that a God who loved me had something better in mind than men who didn't show up on time or at all or guys who loved me "if only..."

When my friend, Sheryl, told me that she wanted me to meet her friend Bruce, I cringed. She was hosting a Christmas party and wanted to invite us both to meet. No fix ups. No way. She didn't tell me much: he had a beard, was divorced with two kids and was in public relations. It wasn't much to go on, but at least she didn't say he just got out of prison or rehab or was recently on Jerry Springer.

At the time I was sort of dating a guy who told me I was "too spiritual" for him. Was he asking me to choose between him or God? You can already predict how that relationship would end.

So at the last minute, on Dec. 19, 1992, I decided to go to Sheryl's party. I trusted Sheryl. I trusted God. I didn't yet need to trust this guy Bruce.

Sheryl shoved me down next to him on the couch. He was cute with warm brown eyes and passion for everything. We talked for hours.

We haven't stopped.

You know you married the right person when you leave your wedding with your best friend. Bruce has been mine for 20 years.

He loved the rough edges in me smooth.

He loves me even though scars are all that remain where my breasts used to be.

He loves me even when I am pouty and moody and bratty and whiny.

He loves me as is.

Love endures all.

What has kept us going through these 20 years is this simple sentence: "We're in this for the long haul."  No matter what shows up in the present, we take the aerial view. Cancer? Now we can see it as a blip on the radar screen of life.  We loved each other through it.

I don't know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future and I know whose arms hold me every night when we spoon each other to sleep.

All because I said yes.

To life. To love. To magic.

To a maybe that has become a certainty.

Most of my life, I never felt worthy of God’s love. I spent my whole life trying to earn it.

Then one year I went to the Abbey of Genesee in New York where I met Father Francis. He wore the white robe and black cowl of a Trappist monk. I told him how no matter what good works or intentions or sacrifices I made, it never seemed enough. I never felt good enough. What would it take to really and truly believe deep down to my core that God loved me, as is?

The monk sat and smiled. His whole body swayed in a nod like he truly understood and had been waiting for this brilliant shining moment to share his most holy profound truth. I sat back and waited for a deep revelation to flow forth. Instead, he started to tell me the story of the Prodigal Son. “There was a man who had two sons….”

My heart sunk. I already knew that story. The monk was excited, as if he’d just heard the story. He was intrigued that the one son had taken his inheritance early and squandered it on wine, women and song, then came crawling back to his father.

The son returned, but before he even had the chance to apologize, the father ran to greet him and hugged and kissed him. The son objected, said he was no longer worthy to be called his son, but the dad threw the best robe on him then threw him a party.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I had heard it all before. The monk loved the part I always hated about the faithful son who never strayed. That son was out in the field working when he heard the music and dancing. He grew angry that he’d been faithful all along and never disobeyed, but his brother who strayed got a party.

Right about then I realized I had picked the wrong monk. I wasn’t going to get a Zen koan that would change my life or a Buddhist mantra that would realign my heart or a Thomas Merton quote that I could hang my life on forever more.

Nope. All I got was a re-run. When he got to the end of the story, the monk grinned over the punch line. The father told the faithful son that all he had belonged to the son, and that he would get his due, but they should all rejoice that the lost son had been found.

The monk’s face glowed. Mine sunk. He was siding with the wrong son. What did this have to do with me? The monk repeated the ending. The son didn’t have to apologize. He didn’t have to flog himself. All he had to do was turn to his father. Turn to his father. That was it. That’s all it took to come back. That’s all any of us need to do.

“God loves us because of who God is,” the monk said. “Not because of who we are.”

At first it stung hard as a slap in the face. Did he just insult me?

Then I felt that zap to my heart, that beautiful, painful pierce you feel when you see a glorious sunset or hear Pacabel’s cannon or hold a newborn baby.

God didn’t want my perfect offering. God didn’t care if I became the best writer in the world or the most humble servant since Mother Teresa. God didn’t care if I screwed up big time or left a mess in my wake…as long as I turned back.

God loves me because it’s God’s nature to love. I can’t earn that love. I can’t lose that love. I was enough not because I was enough, but because God is.

I’m home free.

And so are you.

"In the great green room
there was a telephone
and a red balloon
and a picture of

the cow jumping over the moon

And there were three little bears sitting on chairs
And two little kittens And a pair of mittens
And a little toy house And a young mouse
And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush
And a quiet old lady who was whispering 'hush.'"

Goodnight Moon. We’ve all heard it or read it a million times. I read it now to my grandbabies and love to hear little Ainsley at 1, point to a page and announce with great certainty, “Mooooon.”

I used to read to my daughter every night. We read about Pooh and Piglet searching for woozles and heffalumps. We read the bible. We read the diary of Anne Frank.

We read the silly words of Shel Silverstein and 30 years later can still recite…

"There's a polar bear

In our Frigidaire—
He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.
With his seat in the meat
And his face in the fish
And his big hairy paws
In the buttery dish."

We read the Velveteen Rabbit and can still quote that Skin Horse, who told the rabbit, "Real isn’t how you are made. You become. And by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who can’t understand."

We’ve spent two shows on WKSU about books. Why?

Because books help you understand life. They both expand your life and help you escape from it.

Books have been called the one true magic, the quietest and most loyal of friends, the wisest counselors, because they truly are.

What has a book ever done for you?

What every book has done: Made you who you are.

I love hearing from readers from around the world.

You all remind me that what is most personal truly is universal:

Susy from Guatemala wrote:

“I had the luck to have in my hands your book and in Spanish. You touch my heart. I just want to tell what a special person are you and God had to have his eyes very very open when you were born and sent you to this world to change live. He did an excellent job. Thank you for writing this book and for changing my life.”

Marie from Warsaw, Poland wrote:

“I am 57 and I lost last month my very prestigeous and good job. It is always a big stress when the position is lost and I suffer a lot, so much that at the moment I am not sure I know how to 'spend' rest of my life. I am not without money because according the rules in Poland I could come back to my previous work. So I have money to survive. I have to find my new way. I make my first steps. Not really easy but I do. I didn't look for your book. It really 'appears' in my life. I came to the book store and started reading.

There were many advices which helped me not to be afraid. It isn't really easy to face the new situation but you know, the worse thing is to lose hope. I would like to thank you for your book and for keeping me hoping. Life is good!"

Anka from Poland wrote:

“Two days ago by accident I bought Your book 'God never blinks.'  I'm on 137 page lesson 22 and I want to tell you that I don't have Bruce, child and cancer but lot of things are common with you…Thank you for helping me understand my feelings, concerns, worries. Now I know that I'm not alone and all these thoughts are natural, normal. I'm not freak. I pity for myself too long. Thank you for inspiration and for pleasure which your book gave me. From bottom of my heart I wish you good luck. Best regards. Anna "

Thank you all for reading my books and for taking the time to write.

Bill was swept away by cancer in 10 short months.

They wanted Bill to continue to go to all the places he loved, to the orchestra, to fundraisers, to his favorite restaurants. I didn't tell anyone, but I took one of his ties. I picked a yellow tie, something cheerful, something to remind me of his ever present smile.

Tonight I took Bill with me to see The Nutcracker. He used to love it. He went every year when the San Jose Cleveland Ballet performed it every December. He loved the music, the dancing, the costumes, and the magic of that little nutcracker, how it would come to life for one magical night.

He loved it all the way to the end, when the little nutcracker, all alone on stage, bowed in slow motion to the final notes of the orchestra in the last glow of the spotlight. Bill, in a gesture of humility and gratitude, would stand and bow to the nutcracker. It was his gesture of thanks.

Tonight I carried his yellow tie with me. Held it in my hand as Bill's favorite 'band', the Cleveland Orchestra, made Tchaikovsky proud. The violins made me weep, they were so lovely. 

The dancers looked like a Degas painting come to life, all swirls and clouds of tulle. I found myself holding that tie as if it were Bill's hand. We had a ball, just the two of us.

And at the end, as everyone stood to applaud, I stood and bowed for Bill, who seemed truly alive and next to me on this magical night.

There is more than enough to go around if we all shared what we had.

As Anne Frank wrote, "No one has ever become poor by giving." Giving enriches us all.

Here's small proof. The other day I posted here about buying lunch for a woman who had been begging for money a day earlier. My heart warmed when I left her at the counter at Yours Truly Restaurant eating her lunch.

So yesterday, I walked to the nearest Chipotle for lunch. I ordered my usual salad with black beans, salsa and cheese. When I went to pay at the register, the manager said, "It's on me."

What? Did I hear her right? I handed her a twenty. She shook her head. "My treat," she insisted, then walked away smiling.

I smiled, too, at the great abundance in the world, and how it comes boucing back to you, like a smile boomerang that keeps returning to the one who first tossed it into the world.

The Red Cross. The City Mission. Habitat for Humanity. Amnesty International.

Pleas for people and pets and projects can overwhelm you, especially during holidays.

How do you decide who gets your money?

The key for me is to give mindfully. I need to pause and consult my soul first before I even check my wallet. I want to give with intention and gratitude, not out of guilt, shame or fear.

The other day we left the movie theater and a woman passed on the sidewalk and followed us to our car. She seemed happy then suddenly started wailiing about not having bus fare to get home. I don't give strangers money. Too often it goes to support alcohol and drug habits that are hurting everyone else in their lives.

I wished her well, said a prayer for her and we drove off. The next day, I saw her after I left a restaurant where I had breakfast with my family. As I walked to my car, she said she was hungry and needed food.

"I won't give you money, but if you want to eat, I'll buy you lunch," I told her. Most people who ask me for money won't take me up on that offer. She did.

"But I want to buy me some chicken," she said and pointed to the grocery store.

I pointed to the restaurant I'd just left and said, "If you want to eat here, I'll buy you lunch. If you don't, I can't help you."

She agreed and sat down at the counter. The best part  wasn't getting her the cheeseburger, fries, drink and tipping the waitress, it was getting to see her sit at that counter like a full-fledged functioning adult woman who could relax and eat a meal in the warmth of a restaurant full of conversation and laughs and the love of families all around her.

We exchanged gifts that day. I gave her a simple meal and she gave me the chance to be of service in a way that enriched my life, her life and the lives of those around her.

Readers from around the world constantly remind me that the work we do sends ripples everywhere:

"Hi, Best regards from Istanbul, Turkey. I have just finished God Never Blinks. Thank you very much this book. Your book affected me. Three years ago I have been breast cancer and now I am fifty years old. Therefore I feel very near your words. I am very well now. But also am afraid. You gave me courage. Thank you again, Fusun."

"I'm not a good English speaker. I'm Japanese woman and age 51. But, I want to say Thank you for you. Before I read your book, I watched one side of my own life. There was a lot of pain, sorrow, anger. But now, I read your book, I found the other side of my life. There is a great deal of light of joy. This experience mean in Japanese ME KARA UROKO, Maya "

"My niece is a seminary student at Columbia Theological Seminary outside of Atlanta. Recently, she returned to her home church in Davidson, NC, where she had been asked to give a sermon. I have given her copies of two of your books. She based her sermon on one of the lessons from "Be the Miracle", urging the congregation to be the ripples as well as the rocks. Thank you for giving inspiration to people of all ages and all walks of life, Marcia."

"Hello Regina. I read your book GOD NEVER BLINKS. By far one of the best inspirational books I have ever read. I am a marriage and family counselor and I give out your book to clients and friends for them to meditate with and share with their loved ones. I also have a simple piece of advice: "If you judge people you don't have time lo love them". Regina, you are truly "queenly" and awesome. Love, Ivan

"Regina I'm from Chile. I've read your first book "God never blinks" And I want to congrats you!! Each chapter of this book seems to be the story of my life. You have helped my heart, my life!! Thanks a lot! Regards, Paola"

"English is not my first language. I read your books "God never blinks" and "Be the Miracle" They both are awesome. The beautiful front of your book "God never blinks" looks like God, told me "Come, come". I used to have a lot of questions and doubts about my future. Thanks at you I don't have doubts anymore. I feel like a woman who can pursue her dreams. And most important, you help me to reconcile with God. Thanks from Mexico, Blanca."

Why do we need superheroes?

That's the topic of The Regina Brett Show on Saturday at 3 p.m. on WKSU 89.7 FM.

My guests are Plain Dealer comic writer Michael Sangiacomo, Danny Fingeroth who wrote Spiderman story lines for Marvel Comics and professor Robin Rosenberg who writes a superhero blog for Psychology Today.

I grew up watching Batman on TV and reading Superman comic books. My little hometown Ravenna was light years from Gotham City, Metropolis and planet Krypton. But who wouldn’t want to soar with super power?

There’s an inner five year old in all of us who wants to believe we have the power to fly, to see through walls, to be invisible. We first believed that was possible reading those comics, hiding under the covers with a flashlight because we were still scared of those monsters in the dark.

There’s an inner ten year old in all of us who wants to believe anything is possible, who wants to know there are no limits, who wants to soar to places our parents could never go.

Batman. Superman. Wonderwoman. They all inspire us to speak up for the weak, to stand up for truth, justice and the American way.

Superheroes are more than symbols.

We soar with them. We cheer for them. We rest our fears beside them, knowing the world isn’t such a scary place with them in it. They bring light into the darkest corners of the earth and make that tiny flashlight beam under the covers feel like our very own sun that will never be extinguished.

The world can be a scary place whether you’re 5 or 55 or 95. We want to believe we’re not alone out there, that we have guardians and heroes on the front lines of life keeping us safe.

And we do. As we let go of our comic book heroes, Captain America, Iron Man, Spiderman, we latch on to real people to be our heroes…our parents, our spouses, our soldiers, firefighters and police officers.

Then one day we come to realize, we each possess our very own super power, the ability to heal… to hope… to love.

May that force be with you, the one that resides in us all.

We’ve talked about the role of women at work for the past two shows on The Regina Brett Show on WKSU 89.7 FM.

The first show was on women who opt out of work and into family. The second, was on women as breadwinners and stay at home dads. We’re living in an age when men and women have more flexibility in how they define themselves and their roles in the family.

I’ve worked since I was 16. Every single job, even the ones I hated, gave me tools for life and opened the door to the next better job.

The best job? Being a mom. I was a single parent for 18 years. Oh, the guilt I carried over working full time while raising my daughter.

And yet she says it taught her to be strong and independent. Strong enough to leave her career in June to stay home with her 3 year old son and year old daughter. It’s the right decision for her and for them.

When it comes to how much time you spend at work, there’s no right way and there’s no wrong way. There’s simply the best way you can choose right now.

We make the choice to work full time or part time or not at all and we think we’ve made peace with that choice the day we make the decision, but day after day, sometimes hour by hour, we have to find that peace again and again.

The path we choose right now will change when the road ahead bends or ends or twists and turns. Then we have to decide all over again: What is best for me? My family? My spouse?

The truth is, no one knows for sure. We’re all just doing the best we can to balance work and family and have an integrated, whole, happy life.

The right path today might be the wrong path next week or next month. The key is to do the best you can with what you have right where you are. And every morning when you wake up, life offers you another chance to make it better…it’s called today.

What powerful testimonials. They make me laugh and cry and want to keep writing..

Jackie wrote:  "'God Never Blinks' beats sleeping pills for the insomniac, hands down! My worn copy sits on my night stand, always ready for a 2 am review of a favorite chapter. I work full time, and have been dealing with increased family challenges the last couple of years. My list of challenges has included parents and now a spouse with Alzheimer's. Your book has definitely helped put these life 'detours' into perspective.”

Emma wrote: "We recently lost our beloved niece, at the tender age of 23, to complications from a very long battle with cancer. On her Facebook page were two mottos which were exactly how she chose to live her live - despite nearly 15 years of chemo and all its insipid complicatons and many many hospital stays. I thought you might like to know how your words inspired her - and all the mourners at her funeral, who have taken them to heart. The quotes she chose herself were: "If we threw all our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back." "No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up." In her name, we are all trying to Get Up, Dress Up and Show Up after our terrible loss. Thank you for the words."

Diana wrote: "Your book is my bible. I bought it out of desperation, reaching into the self-help section at Barnes and Noble because I felt like I was losing my mind for good. I packed up, got on a plane, and came to Raleigh, North Carolina all the way from the PUERTO RICO. I have no family here. I lost a sister in a car accident and death does no bring a family closer, in any way. But your book, I can honestly say, has literarily changed me. I've read it about 6 times since I bought it. I'm planning on sending it to my sister. I'm hoping it will enlighten her. I'm hoping to get my family back. Thank you, again and again and again. I hope you continue with a blessed outlook on life and have a great one."

Samantha wrote:  “I bought your book, 'Life's little Detours' when I was holidaying in Thailand recently, and your message about 'small steps' has really impacted. When things start to get overwhelming, I ask myself, 'What is the next small step?' and I focus on that. It becomes automatic to keep things in perspective.... a great tool. Much appreciated, Sam from Australia."

Shelly wrote: "My mom mailed me your book (God Never Blinks); I actually got pissed. In fact, that turned into laughter. I laughed with the girls at work; I randomly opened the book and quoted various sentences to my coworkers. They chuckled. Apparently my Mom was a "religious freak" and wanted to spread the Plague. I laughed, laughed, and laughed. Then I had another Anxiety-Filled-Fun-Day (AFFD). The kind of days you spoke about in your book. I then opened your book and couldn't put it down. I have to admit: I'm still kind of pissed at you! Every time I've read it (and while reading it) I cry! I sob! I don't do that type of thing! I'm a former stripper. Let's not numb things up with "exotic dancer, performer." I stripped my clothes off for money during college. Contrary to popular belief, strippers do actually get degrees; I finally achieved a BA in 2009. Although part of me is still "pissy" (or so my Dad calls it), you have brought a realization to my life that I could have never imagined, so thank you. I must also give credit to my mom for sending me your book. Your book has opened a lot of wounds, including the passing of my stepmom (cancer); but has made me see the 'bigger picture' in life....as much as I regret to say those cliche words."

Then, after she died, you opened each one and found them all blank. Every single one of them.

Terry Tempest Williams tried to find out what her mother was telling her in those three shelves of empty journals. Her book, "When Women Were Birds" explores all the possible answers.

Her mother's journals are..."a blinding light. A glaring truth. Clean sheets. White flags of surrender. Ghosts. A charity. A cruelty. Salt. Gauze. A writer's block. Clouds. Bones. Diapers washed and folded. T-shirts washed and pressed. Letters never written. A hoax. A tease. A puzzle. They tell me nothing. They tell me everything."

The book is about voice. What is it? What is yours? How did you find yours? How did you lose it? If it is true that, "Your voice is the wildest thing you own," what is yours saying, right now?

Our book club is discussing this book tonight. I can't wait to hear what they have to say about those blank pages, and about what they would write on theirs.

My favorite email of the week came from Carol R:

"I found your book on one of the distributing sites. My girlfriend and I ordered one and then we ordered a couple of boxes of "God Never Blinks."

"This is such a good book with great reminders. We mentor women from time to time and know that we know you talk from a place that we know. Is it okay to say that we have passed out these books like chocolates?????!!!!!!

"What a connection. Some of the connections... Surgery director at hospital CEO of medical company. A maid Waffle House employee. A heart patient in a medical waiting room. We are in the process of ordering some more books for the holidays. Thank you for your wonderful expressions that have touched so many. We have been given so many opportunities to touch people through you."

What an honor, Carol. Thanks a million. How sweet to think my book is as good as a box of chocolates. 

My grandson, Asher, would love it.

It would take about 45 minutes to drive to the Geauga County Fair, so his mom packed him a book about John Deere tractors, a toy tractor and we hit the road. On the long drive, eternity to a boy his age, we chatted about the trees, about the trucks on the highway, about the scent a skunk left on the road.

At the fair, his eyes grew wide when we climbed aboard the shuttle, a trailer pulled by a tractor. He was in heaven.

He got to sit on a monster truck, pretend to drive an ATV, pay loaders, excavators, lawnmowers and every type of John Deere tractor known to man and field. 

He got to pet a bunny, see roosters and turkeys, pigs and piglets. He watched cows get showered down and trimmed up to be shown. He got to see horses up close and climb all the way to the top of the Great Grandstand and watch the horse show and eat his PB&J as they pranced and trotted.

He rode the little cars in a circle, the Scrambler (which the operator set on slow motion) and the Merry Go Round. He played two games and won prizes -- a monster truck and stuffed dolphin.

I bought him a lollipop from the fair and he clutched it with white knuckles as we rode the shuttle back to our car.

On the drive home, I called his mom and told her we were on our way and that we had packed the sights and sounds and fun of the whole fair into three hours.

From the car seat behind me, I heard him say, "Did you tell her about the skunk on the highway?"

What exactly is a sense of humor and how do you get one?

We just talked about "How to be funny" on The Regina Brett Show on WKSU 89.7 FM.

You can listen to the entire show by podcast.

Our guests were:

Mike Polk, Jr., creator of The Hastily Made Cleveland Tourism Videos.

Dave Schwensen, manager of the Cleveland Improv Compedy Club and Restaurant.

Ray Lesser, publisher and editor of the Funny Times.

Everyone has a sense of humor, but humor varies. Know your audience. What is funny to them?

Life gives you laughs. Use them as your material to make others laugh. Mine your life for your material. What's funny about your life?

You can't make something funny if you don't think it's funny yourself. If you're uncomfortable with it, don't go there.

Don't use stale jokes that people have already heard.

Don't make jokes about people who are powerless, poor or uneducated. 

Learn who you are on stage. What is your comedy voice?

Jot down every day the funny, unusual, curious things you see, hear and experience. 

Every day, work your funny bone to the bone.

Learn from the masters. Watch funny movies, comics, read the best comedy writers.

Whether you're the one telling the joke or listening to one, lighten up. The world could use more laughs.

Or maybe they aren't accidents at all.

Karin just sent this email:

“I was at the library, looking for landscaping books when I pulled out God Never Blinks. The cover definitely had no landscaping pictures, and the title didn't indicate it had anything to do with plants.

"It's been misplaced," I said to myself. I was about to give it to the librarian for reshelving when I noticed that the call number was appropriate for landscaping. I thought, "How strange... maybe it has ideas about landscaping inside, and they are tied to a theme or something." I read the subtitle and opened the book. The book had definitely been assigned the wrong call number.

Nevertheless, I had a feeling I should keep it, that maybe God had allowed it to be there just for me. I took it home and was immediately hooked. I was amazed at your courage and determination. As I was reading it, I would often say to myself, "I can't believe she had the guts to say something so private!"

I was in awe at your ability to be true, to be open, to not fear, and I saw a pattern I want to imitate. Thank you for telling your story. My mother, grandmothers, and a nephew have had cancer. My parents were divorced when I was 15, and there was a lot of frustration and anger at home. All that, combined with a few bad relationships in the past, had left me scarred and scared about many things in life.

Your lessons showed me that struggles can be overcome, that the past can be overcome, that the future will bring what it will but that today can be the best day of my life. I am now letting my past be my past, allowing those who hurt me the benefit of the doubt, or "a different story". It feels so good to let go! It feels even better to take it one day at a time and actually live in the moment, instead of living the past, the present, and the future all at the same time.

Thank you for enriching my life with your book. I now have to return the book, and I'm doubtful whether I should tell the librarian about the wrong call number or leave the book to be shelved right where I found it, for someone else to find it just like I did.”

How funny. I'd say leave it with the landscaping books for the lessons to "grow" on someone else.

"I found your book on one of the distributing sites. My girlfriend and I ordered one and then we ordered a couple of boxes of "God Never Blinks."

"This is such a good book with great reminders. We mentor women from time to time and know that we know you talk from a place that we know. Is it okay to say that we have passed out these books like chocolates?????!!!!!!

"What a connection..... Some of the connections.. Surgery director at hospital CEO of medical company A maid Waffle House Employee. And heart patient in medical waiting room We are in the process of ordering some more books for the holidays. Thank you for your wonderful expressions that have touched so many. We have been given so many opportunities to touch people through you"

I'm so honored that Carol and her friend think my book is as good as a box of chocolates. 

Kathryn R. just sent me this email:

"Regina, I need your help in establishing 10 rules of divorce. My husband announced he is leaving because he is not "in love with me" after 14 years. We have two children ages 5 and 6. I have yet to tell my family and most friends.

"I need something to keep me in check. I am incredibly hurt, and have a strong suspicion of an affair (not fully confirmed, I wish he would just admit it). But right now, I need 10 rules to keep on the right track. Thanks, Kathryn"

Kathryn, I feel honored that you turned to me for help. I've never been divorced but married a man who was and have countless friends who have been through it. Here's what they taught me:

1. It's too soon to tell:

It's too soon to tell if this is a good thing or a bad thing. If it's forever over or just a temporary split. You are just at the start of a process. Don't judge it or you or him too harshly. Don't analyze and awfulize this every minute of every day. It's too soon to tell what it all means and how it all ends.

2. Be the heroine of your life story, not the victim of it.

That's up to you. No one can make you a victim without your permission. You don't need him to be the villain and you the victim. That doesn't help anyone, especially your children.

3. This man will always be the father of your children. 

Your children need to hear you speak kindly and lovingly of their dad. If you need to bash him and vent, do so when they are not around. They share his DNA. They don't want to feel they, too, are the bad guys.

4. Appoint yourself CEO of your joy.

It is no one else's job to make you happy. Period. Maybe he did for a while, maybe he never did. Doesn't matter. It's up to you to build a life of joy no matter what life hands you. See it through the eyes of gratitude. You can survive without him. You can't survive without you.

5.  Create a 9-1-1 list of people to help.

 Put their names and cell phone numbers on an index card you carry with you at all times. Ask them to be "on-call" to lend you an ear, a shoulder, a tissue, an old plate to break in an empty parking lot, the number for a good attorney. Create your own support Dream Team of the most positive people you know.

6. No playing bad home movies.

It's tempting to drift back in time and replay all the times he hurt you or loved you like crazy, which can make you feel crazy now. Stay present. Stay put in this day.

7. Pray for the serenity to accept the things you can't change.

If he had an affair, you can't change that. If he is in love with someone else, you can't change that. If he can't be talked out of the divorce, you can't change that. Acceptance means you align yourself with what is and start from there.

8. Breathe.

Just pause and breathe. Take a deep breathe and count slowly to six. Exhale slowly as you count to six. The slower you breathe, the more you will feel calm. Breathe in the love of God; breathe out the love of God. There is a place of peace inside of you -- find it. It is there. It's like the centerpiece in the snow globe. He shook your snow globe and all the pieces went flying, except for the core of you. No one -- no one -- has the power to shake that.

9. Nothing you want is upstream.

I love that line. Stop strugglng. Stop swimming against the current. Stop forcing yourself on life and insisting it change. Turn and go with the flow. A God who loves you is in charge of this flow. Trust where the current is taking you. It's somewhere better. Trust me. Better yet, trust you.

10. The best is yet to come.

As good as he was, you deserve better. You deserve the best. If this relationship is truly over, then he must not have been the best. He was a dress rehearsal. Maybe he was a great appetizer or the salad course. But he wasn't the main dish. And he sure wasn't the dessert.

The next relationship will be even more life enriching and life affirming. Tell the Universe, "I am ready for my perfect good." Include your children in that perfect good. Keep your heart wide open and be ready for it to fill up with even greater love. 

The 75th All-American Soap Box Derby was last weekend in Akron. What are your memories of those early derby races?

Our dad could just walk around the garage and find parts here and there. I wonder if there’s still a place for building a derby in the age of Facebook, texting and video games.

I asked my brother Michael, who is 59, for his memories of those derby days. Here’s what he wrote:

“The organizers of the Portage County derby had about 10 workshop meetings on Saturday mornings in the basement of the Chicken Manor Restaurant midway between Kent and Ravenna. The meetings lasted for about an hour. They walked you though the process of building the car and answered questions. This was in addition to the ‘how to build it’ instruction book they gave you when you first signed up to enter.

At the end of each meeting they gave everyone a chocolate Sunday. It was just vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce but the first time they passed these out I thought I died and gone to heaven. At later meetings I couldn’t wait for the discussion part to be over so that we could get down to the business of having our ice cream. I imagine a lot of the other kids also felt that way.

I was entered in two races. I believe they were in the summer before 7th grade and in the summer before 8th grade. No one in my age group really had a lot of working experience with tools and stuff. I could hardly lift up a hammer, let alone work with an electric drill, so the workmanship was not really high quality.

Some of the adults/parents sometimes talked about how much help kids might have had from an adult working on their car but none of the kids cared or talked about any of that. We were always appreciative of any help we could get. To us, that instruction manual may as well have been the specs on how to build a space capsule.

When you signed up, the box of parts contained four wheels, two axels, four nuts and one steering wheel. I couldn’t believe that was it. I had no idea what I was in for. The first year's car wasn’t fancy but I won at least two heats.

After building the first car, dad took us out to a country road that he called Brugman's hill, because it was near Brugman's sand and gravel quarry. We were at the top of this deserted country road at the top of a hill looking down and took the derby out of the station wagon. Dad just said get in and try it out.

I started out riding in the car going down the hill and trying to keep my head down to be aerodynamic. The car started going way too fast and bouncing around like crazy. It wasn’t the smoothest road in the county, so I said, ‘To hell with all of that aerodynamic stuff.’

I was just trying to keep the car steered in the middle of the road while using the brake to slow it down. The brake didn’t help much. Eventually the car reached the bottom of the hill and I survived. But for me as a young kid, it really was a terrifying experience. After that, the actual race was nothing. The hill wasn’t as steep and the road was a lot smoother. To this day I have no idea what dad must have been thinking.

The second year, dad tried to get fancy and told me to mix up some fiberglass that he bought to smooth out and give the car's body a nice finish. I was supposed to mix it up and let him know when it started to harden. Well, I'm mixing it, it starts to harden and I mention this to dad who as usual, was off doing some other work in the shop. Time passes and the mixture continues to harden. More louder calls for dad's attention, with the response he will be there in a few more minutes. Finally he finishes what he's working on and stops by my bench. By now, the stuff I'm working on is a solidified mass of glop which we proceed to throw in the trash. That was the last of our attempts to get fancy.

Looking back I am amazed at all of the adults that volunteered their time for the workshops, inspections and day of race work. When you are a kid you don't realize that all of these adults have jobs and other family commitments that they need to deal with. It was only after I received your e-mail that I thought about how many people volunteered their time for these events. Be sure you thank any that are still around.”

To all those who helped kids like my brothers, a big thanks from all of us who have great race day memories.

He used to sit there like the guardian of the street. He might have looked like an old man to strangers, but we neighbors knew him for the hero he was.

Dr. Joseph Foley was one of the first doctors to prepare the beach at Normandy before the D-Day invasion. He dodged bullets to save the lives of countless men and held the dying in his arms.

He was a neurologist who listened to patients and focused on them, not their disease or disorder.

What I will remember most is his wit and charm, and hearing a man who had seen so much war, constantly pray for peace.

Joe's funeral was on Tuesday. He was 96 when he died. The chuch was filled with hundreds who loved him. The Mass was celebrated by six priests and a bishop.

My friend, Father Don Cozzens, gave the eulogy. He said Joe loved attention but saw the danger of being the smartest or funniest person in the room. He knew we're most alive when we die to our ego self and live for others, Don said.

When asked once what he was thinking about, he told the priest, "Women and sex," then blushed at the redundancy, Don said.

Don said that Joe, like Jacob in the Bible, wrestled with his faith, his God and his church. He was a coffee house theologian who lived those words in Micah: Act justly. Love tenderly. Walk humbly with your God. Joe never understood one thing: Why do smart people think war is a tragic necessity?

Perhaps he has found that answer now.

Near the end of the Mass, someone reminded us, "No one is really dead unless they are forgotten."

Joe will live forever, in me, in his patients, in his friends, in his family, in the countless children of the children of the children of all those he saved through his work and his prayers.

Ever have one of those moments when God winks at you?

Today I sent a brief email to a co-worker who broke his leg and just got the cast off but can’t yet return to work.

Here’s what I wrote:

“Good to hear the cast is off. Do you feel like a castaway now? Bad joke. Hope you are keeping up your spirits.

“You're probably tired of being in the "slow lane." That's what I called it when I had chemo & radiation years ago. It felt like everyone else was zooming by me and all I was doing was trying to feel better or at least keep down lunch.

“This is a strange precious time, really. You may never get this chance to step away from your life and the busy-ness of it. Savor what you can in this slow lane. I remember watching a butterfly land on my balcony rail every day at 11 am. It had a flight pattern and I was there to witness it. Small stuff, but isn't that what life is really made of?

“Be well and enjoy the small and slow show that you get to witness.”

I hit send, then walked into my bedroom to get something. There, on the balcony rail, was a butterfly.

I looked at the clock. It was 11 a.m.

Not kidding. Life sure is amazing.

“What is most personal is universal.” How true.

My first book, “God Never Blinks,” is in 22 countries. My second book, “Be the Miracle,” came out in January and is already in six countries

I love getting emails from readers all over the world. Here are a few:

Joy wrote: "I bought your book ‘God Never Blinks’ at a Christian gathering in Sweden where I live. Even though I'm having trouble believing in God, your book took me with storm. The following morning I had only around 5 chapters left to read - and since then I've re-read them, told my friends to read them and underlined all the quotes I need to be reminded of to find the strength I need to get through each day. I'm 18, but I've never appreciated life. I've been having problems in seeing the beautiful, since I've only focused on the ugly. I've been too harsh on myself, not feeling worthy of living, but your book was that light I needed to see things in a different way. I'm now living day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. I wish you everything good. Love, Joy, 18, Sweden."

Fernanda wrote: "I am 12 years old and I'm from Mexico (So I don't speak very well English) I know that I am young but your book ‘Dios nunca parpadea’ inspired me to be better writer and to improve on the purpose of life, now that I know that God has a great purpose for everyone. Thank You. GOD BLESS YOU (today and tomorrow)"

Stephanie wrote: "I am a reader who lives in Bogota, Colombia. I finished reading the book 2 minutes ago. I just felt the need to let you know that yes, you changed my point of view of many things and deeply touched my life. I have bought myself a lot of books and sent them around to people I know will value your wisdom and life experiences. Thank God for people like you that not only live, but shares their live through this book.”

Norie wrote: "I am a Japanese woman living in Tokyo, Japan. I just finished reading your book 'God never blinks' in Japanese translated version. This is very encouraging and lovely book--thanks to you! My friend borrowed the book in the community library and she really liked it and recommended it to me. It gave me a lot of encouragement and positive feeling to my life. I just wanted to tell you that your book is great, and let you know that your book is in the community library of some city in Tokyo and giving a positive energy to readers' mind. What a wonderful thing to give something good to people who live in the other side of the world.”

Frances wrote: “I am sooo grateful for your way of sharing...so heart lifting and encouraging. I was thrilled when I came back to Mexico last month from Chicago to find your book translated and available!!! I would sum up your experiences in a phrase my mom left me..."PUT OUT FOR WHAT YOU WANT, TAKE WHAT YOU GET AND WORK ON THE DIFFERENCE. You sure did!!!! Blessings to you and your family and all your readers."

Kristine wrote: "I am 33 years young woman from Latvia. Some days ago I finished to reed your book God never blinds translated in LV. This book I got from my friend who red it, too. Thank you very much! It is amazing. If you can write book where I can cry, then book is great. I will make present for my mom on 60th birthday as you did for your husband. She had cancer the some as you. You are open and tell your life, nothing else, just tell without advices. If I am so clever I can see advice by myself. And I did. Thank You!"

A great big thanks to all of you for reading the books and for taking the time to write. You touch my heart and make this big world feel a whole lot cozier.

For the past two years, all of you who listen to my radio show have welcomed me into your homes and cars every Wednesday night at 7 on WKSU 89.7 FM.

What an honor to be part of your lives.

The Regina Brett Show started with one simple concept: to inspire you to live a better life for yourself and others. As the title of my new book urges, Be the miracle.

There are so many public affairs shows on the radio, especially public radio, but few shows address the internal affairs, the issues of the heart and home, the problems that keep us awake at night, the solutions that come from the soul and extend into the greater world around us to make it even greater.

We’ve taken on topics that are fun and entertaining, shows that make you laugh or spit out your coffee or linger in the driveway to hear the last of a lovely line or story or song. We’ve taken on tough topics that make you grab a tissue, hug your children tighter, call your spouse to say those three words we all take for granted: I love you.

We’ve had shows that made me cry during the hour. One show, I was in the studio with a father whose son committed suicide after being bullied on the bus every day on the way to school. Sitting next to that dad in this studio was one of the bullies, a boy who confessed his role to the father. Together, they speak at schools and work together to stop bullying.

Another time we had two Vietnam vets who just returned home from visiting Vietnam 40 years later. They spoke of sitting down with the Vietnamese people they were once sent to kill. They shared the poems they wrote to heal the wounds they still bear.

Another time, we had a woman and her husband, who are in their 90’s, break into song about growing old together.

We had a show on dads that made you appreciate your father more or miss the one you lost, a show that made you want to become a better daughter or son.

We’ve had shows on how to change a bad habit, how to stop hoarding, how to simply…rest.

We started this show with producer Sarah Eisler Taylor and sound producer Kabir Batia. We have a new producer Danielle Wiggins and sound producer Jasen Sokol, who both love radio and work hard to add the right touch to every show.

I am so grateful to all of you for listening to the show, for supporting it at pledge time and for telling your friends and families to tune in and to follow us on Facebook and Twitter.

I’d love to hear what you think of the show, and what topics you’d like us to address. If you have ideas for guests, email them to me at regina@ WKSU.org.

I look forward to spending Saturday afternoons with you. If you can’t join us then, I hope you’ll wake up early on Sunday to join us at the start of your day. And you can always, any time of the day or night, listen to us by podcast at WKSU.org.

As my friend Don always says, it’s been a slice of heaven…a la mode.

Let’s keep enjoying this great dessert together every Saturday afternoon starting June 30.

But it's a wet heat, so it feels like 190.

It's sooo hot.

How hot is it?

A sparrow just pulled a worm out of the ground...with a potholder.

Cows are giving evaporated milk.

I saw two trees fighting over a dog.

Okay, so you've heard them all before.

What do you do to cool off?

Eat Eskimo Pies for breakfast.

Take Popsicle breaks instead of coffee breaks.

Run through the sprinkler.

Park your bottom in a wading pool of ice.

Rummage in the garage and pull out the snow brush and shovel and remember this weather beats the ice, sleet and snow of December, January and February.

Drink a big glass of lemonade in the shade and read this poem by Shel Silverstein:

It’s Hot!

It’s hot!
I can’t get cool,
I’ve drunk a quart of lemonade,
I think I’ll take my shoes off
And sit around in the shade.

It’s hot!
My back is sticky,
The sweat rolls down my chin.
I think I’ll take my clothes off
And sit around in my skin.

It’s hot!
I’ve tried with ‘lectric fans,
And pools and ice cream cones.
I think I’ll take my skin off
And sit around in my bones.

It’s still hot!

What a bold and exciting move, to leave the work world and become a full-time, stay at home mom. Her husband is behind her 100 percent. So am I.

My guess is that Asher, who is 3, and Ainsley, who is 11 months old, support her, too.

Gabrielle worked in the cancer information services for 11 years, spreading information about the prevention and treatment of cancer and encouraging people to participate in clinical trials to help advance science and save lives. Now she gets to focus on the two little lives she created.

Ainsley and Asher gave her a workout this week in her new role.

Ainsley was sick for two days, throwing up all over the high chair.  "What is in throw up?" Asher asked. How do you answer that one?

Then he got sick and Gabrielle got to read him books and make him feel all better, as only a mom can do.

Nothing beats a mother's touch to make a fever go away, to heal a boo-boo, to make life feel so much sweeter.

This came in today:

"Dear Regina, I found your book one day completely by chance when I found myself in the darkest of dark places not wanting to live another day.

"I ran into a bookstore and did a quick and desperate grab of something, anything, to help me out of my despair, the pain was so unbearable I was so overcome with it all. And I am so grateful that I picked up your book.

"Nothing happens by mistake. I have read your book every morning over the last 6 months and it has been with me while I have been struggling in recovery from an eating disorder and all of the painful feelings and withdrawal that this experience has brought.

"Your book has made me feel so much less alone. I have felt so incredibly comforted and hopeful from reading it. You feel close and real through everything you write about even though we are generations and countries apart with a totally different up bringing.

"It's amazing how the human experience is really so much the same. Some mornings over the last 6 months where I have cried my eyes out everyday I read your book and it's like getting a big hug both from you and the universe.

"I can't thank you enough for writing it and sharing your life and experiences with others and me. You reminded me that it's okay to be human in a world that otherwise seems to be expecting perfection.

"You reminded me that it's okay to cry and it's okay to be broken and not have any of the answers, and even okay to be angry with God. Thank you for reminding me that I am and always will be enough, especially to God.

"I wish so much love, happiness, joy and peace to you and your family. Thanks from the bottom of my heart."

And thank you, from the bottom of mine.

After having cancer 14 years ago, every birthday is a gift. I get to grow old. What a joy. .

To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me.
It is the most-requested column I've ever written. It has traveled the world.

Someone wrote at the top of that email chain letter that I'm 90. My odometer actually rolls over to 56 today, so here's an update:

1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

4. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

5. Pay off your credit cards every month.

6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.

7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.

8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.

9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.

10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.

12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.

13. Don't compare your life to others'. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.

15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.

16. Life is too short for long pity parties. Get busy living, or get busy dying.

17. You can get through anything if you stay put in today.

18. A writer writes. If you want to be a writer, write.

19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.

20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.

21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

22. Overprepare, then go with the flow.

23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.

24. The most important sex organ is the brain.

25. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.

26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: "In five years, will this matter?"

27. Always choose life.

28. Forgive everyone everything.

29. What other people think of you is none of your business.

30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.

31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

32. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.

33. Believe in miracles.

34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.

35. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.

36. Growing old beats the alternative - dying young.

37. Your children get only one childhood. Make it memorable.

38. Read the Psalms. They cover every human emotion.

39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.

40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.

41. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.

42. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.

43. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

44. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

45. The best is yet to come.

46. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

47. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.

48. If you don't ask, you don't get.

49. Yield.

50. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.

51.To be a channel of peace, you have to stay open. To do that, relax your heart.

52. Consult your own soul. Deep inside you already know the answers you need.

53. Interruptions are divine assignments.

54. God doesn't always call the strong. Sometimes you have to be weak enough to serve.

55. Start where you are and get busy on the possible.

56. Love life unconditionally. Love it ALL.

Mr. Snowberger invited me to speak at the Portage County Retired Teachers Association last week. I feared he might pull out my "permanent record" and recall my diploma.

The event was a great opportunity to thank some of the teachers that changed my life. It was great to see Mr. Bliss, my old history teacher, and Mr. Ricco, who taught me English in 9th grade. It was sad to hear of the passing of Mr. Bennett, the band instructor who taught so many students not to die with their music in them.

I left full of gratitude for the imprint those teachers left on me.

A math teacher taught me to balance my checkbook to the penney. (Thank you, Mr. Saviers.)

A social studies teacher taught me to question authority. (Thank you Mr. Farrell.)

A biology teacher taught me to be accountable.  "There's no such thing as a free lunch, Brett," he used to say. (Thank you Mr. Roberto.)

An English teacher taught me to love words. (Thank you, Mr. Ricco.)

A speech teacher taught me not to fear a microphone. (Thank you, Mr. Singer.)

A choir teacher taught me the joy of singing every morning, which I still do in the shower. (Thank you Mr. Maske.)

The men and women in that room had retired after 30, 35 and 40 years of teaching. Imagine how many hundreds of lives each of them changed.

They certainly did fill our souls with dreams, as journalist Clark Mollenhoff wrote in this poem he dedicated to his mother, who was a teacher.

                 Teacher

You are the molders of their dreams

The gods who build or crush

Their young beliefs of right or wrong.

You are the spark, that sets aflame

the poet's hand or lights the flame

of some great singer's song.

You are the gods of the young, the very young

You are the guardian of a million dreams

Your every smile or frown can heal or pierce a heart.

You are a hundred lives, a thousand lives.

Yours the pride of loving them

And the sorrow, too.

Your patient work, your touch

Make you the gods of hope

Who fill their souls with dreams

To make those dreams come true.  

White woman. Unknown. Heroin overdose.

We should have seen it coming. We all tried to help her. If love could have saved Heidi, she'd still be alive today.

If love could have kept her clean and sober, she'd be walking around with a 12-year coin in her pocket.

The obit said she was 44. How could that be? She always seemed eternally 16 to me. A new tattoo. A tongue piercing. A leather bracelet. Always trying to look the part of the rebel but we knew better.

Her wounds gave her away, that pain in her eyes. She'd sound tough for a minute then melt into you with a hug or a laugh or a story that only Heidi could tell. Like the time her toddler dropped a bottle of Italian dressing in the kitchen. "The whole house smells like an Italian restaurant," she laughed.

Heidi laughed loads, but, God, did she hurt.

In and out of recovery. Dragging her three kids on and off the roller coaster of booze and crack and heroin.  We tried to save them, too. Spent weekends cleaning and painting their apartment, giving them the right kind of attention, praising their efforts in school and sports. They just wanted a normal life. They just wanted a mom they could count on.

We bury Heidi tomorrow. I don't know how to face her boys. The youngest is 12. I met Noah when he was crawling around the recovery rooms, a brand new baby, a brand new chance for Heidi. "My sober baby," that's what Heidi called him.

I hope those boys know how many people Heidi helped by all of us trying to help her. She helped us all want a better life. I once drove with her with little Noah in his car seat in the back. There was a new girl in the backseat, still shaking from the alcohol she drank the night before. Heidi went on and on about how Noah was her sober baby, how Noah was the light of her life.

When I looked in the rearview mirror, that new girl was clinging to Noah's little fingers, as if he were her lifeline, too.

I hope Noah will know that we tried to be his.

Yesterday, I got to talk to Jabulani Leffall on KCUR in Kansas City. 

Halfway through the show, he asked me the best advice I'd give a writer and a radio host.

For a writer, I'd say the best advice is this:

Write.

No joke. Just put the pen to paper, the fingers to keyboard and keep moving.

As for a radio host, my best advice is to find your voice and be you.

I absolutely love hosting The Regina Brett Show every Wednesday night on WKSU 89.7 FM. When I first started the show two years ago, I jotted down on an index card what has become my guiding light for every show that airs. I call it...

The 10 Commandments of The Regina Brett Show:

1. Be interesting. Surprise people.
2. Be original.
3. Be you -- 100 percent authentic Regina Brett. Just sound like you.
4. Have fun.
5. Ask the tough questions in a respectful manner.
6. Honor the listener first. Put the listener above all else.
7. Inspire all involved to find and use their inner power to help create a greater life for others.
8. Give people hope.
9. Work as a team to do only what we can do well and do well consistently.
10. Do the best we can every week, then release it and let it go.

Once I read through that list, I don't stress about the show. I overprepare, go with the flow and trust wherever it takes me.

I shared my own blessings in my first book, "God Never Blinks." Lesson 45, The best is yet to come, tells the story of my mom's 75th birthday.

Ever since, readers have created similar ways to honor their parents. I just received this email from Donna in Canada:

"Inspired by your Lesson # 45 The Best is Yet to Come, I told my four siblings about your 75th birthday gift to your Mom and to yourself. We created a book to celebrate for our Mom to mark her 60 years as a Mom.

"Each page started with the words, 'Thank you for... '

"We thanked her for teaching magic words like please and thank you. And taking us to the park at the river for lunch. And using leftover pie dough to make pinwheels.

"We made the book in a small paperback format so she can keep it on her table where she knits or reads. Mom is now palliative with cancer, and after two years she still shows the book to her caregivers and anyone who comes by her chair at home. I think as her life with us is getting short --she had oxygen yesterday for the first time -- it feeds her heart and soul to see her 6 children and 12 grandchildren and all that life has become because Joe and Martha fell in love and never gave up.

"And through it all Mom has shown us that God never blinks. Over and over I've told people the story of your Mom's 75th birthday gift that inspired our gift. Thank you for sharing."

What a gift Donna gave her mom. It's one that blesses both the giver and the receiver. It touched my mom's heart, and it opened my eyes to see her with gratitude.

My talk and book signing was at 7 pm but I came early to enjoy the scent of the lilacs and gaze at my favorite dogwood in bloom. It's actually two trees that grow so close together their trunks touch and blossoms intertwine. It looks like one tree that has both pink and white flowers.

My peace nearly faded when a person told me the back tire on my car was getting low. Oh no. Was it a slow leak or a fast one? What should I do? The talk would end around 9 p.m. Should I call my husband or AAA? Before I could decide, a man walked over and said, "Looks like you need help."

Rick Burns, who owns Burns Auto, just happened to come to my talk and just happens to know how to fix anything that can go wrong on a car and just happened to have a tire air compressor in his trunk.

He filled the tire and we went inside.  After my talk, I found a note from him on my windshield. He had checked the tire before he left and said I was good to go.

I've written about Rick in my column. His auto shop is an oasis in Bay Village for people like Brian, who drove around on a broken-down adult trike until Rick came along and fired up the community to buy Brian a new one. Rick outfitted it with a canopy, horn, lights and flags.

I love the quote he keeps in his shop: Definition of Life: Life is not the number of breaths you take. Life is the number of moments that take your breath away.

Thanks, Rick, for giving me one of those moments.

A woman just sent this email:

"Last night, I ran a hot bath, lit a candle, and started reading. I was not prepared for how I would feel when I got to Lesson 45, "The best is yet to come." Tears began to fall, and fall, and fall. I started to sob louder, so I ran the water, so nobody would hear. Then as I'm crying, water running, I think... Lesson 12.

"Well I finally got my composure after a while, and continued to read. I had a very close relationship with my Mother and lost her in 2005. As you talked about shopping, it reminded me of the last day I had like that with my Mother. I took her to a doctor appointment and bought some cherries on the way home.

"What I would do to have those days back... I am a happy, positive person, but have exhausted myself helping so many family members. I finally told myself that I need to take care of Me. I started reading the Bible and your book. I look at a lot of things differently now. The Bible and "God Never Blinks" have gotten me through some really rough times. Thank you for your words, your wisdom, your strength."

What a joy to read emails like that. They're also great reminders for me to keep my own life on track. I still have to make sure I don't get lost in my own life.

I hope the sticky note posted on my computer helps. It says, "Make room in your life for you!" 

I wasn't ready to get too spiritual. I mistook it for more of a spa-like weekend and packed a suitcase. Alas, there was no pool. Only an oasis of peace.

A friend drove me to the Jesuit Retreat House in Parma, Ohio, which sits on 50 plus acres of pure beauty. On the way there, we passed a taxidermy shop with a life-sized stuffed bear in the window looking ready to attack. Was that some sort of omen?

Then I'm greeted at the retreat house by a hunchback. I was ready to turn back. Good thing I didn't. The place, and that hunchback, changed my life forever.

Father Joe Zubricky inhabited a twisted, tortured body, but had the most beautiful soul. His eyes twinkled with love for all who walked in the door. He taught me religion shouldn't be an obstacle to God, just part of a lovely invitation. And if it isn't, discard it and go straight to God.

He taught me that the only thing that matters in this life is: Did you love?

I'm heading to the retreat house for the weekend. Joe is no longer there, but his spirit is everywhere. In the deer that run free, in the wind that blows kisses my way, in the bedrooms where we cry, in the lounge where we laugh, in the chapel where we pray and rediscover just how much we are all loved, as is. Always.

It shouldn’t hurt to be a child, but for too many kids, it does.

Abused and neglected children are everywhere. In the pew at church. On your son’s soccer team. In your daughter’s Girl Scout troop. In the house next door.

The child who suffers from abuse and neglect doesn’t always wear a sign or a bruise or a cast. Child abuse isn’t always announced by broken arms or black eyes.

But when you do see evidence of it, don’t look away. Child abuse thrives on silence. Children who are abused have no voice. We are their voice.

April is Child Abuse Prevention Month. What difference can you make? Plenty if you do any one of these:

Educate yourself: Understand what abuse is, what neglect really is. Abuse isn’t just what leaves a bruise or broken bone. It’s the name calling and shaming and screaming rage that leaves scars on a soul, that can break a heart. It can be neglect, physical abuse, emotional abuse or sexual abuse.

Know the signs of child abuse: They include: Injuries, bruises, fear, depression, difficulty trusting others, having a hard time making friends, sudden changes in eating or sleeping patterns, inappropriate sexual behavior, keeping secrets, poor hygiene, aggressive behavior.

Report abuse: Consider yourself to be a mandated reporter. If you see a child being hurt, hear a child constantly crying or screaming next door, see evidence of abuse, or if a child tells you about abuse, report it to child protective services or to the police. Keep reporting it until the child is helped.

Know the emergency number to report child abuse.

Err on the side of the child: When in doubt, report it. When in doubt, believe the child. When in doubt, err on the side of protecting the child. You don’t have to be 100 percent sure it’s abuse or neglect. Leave that to the experts.

Listen: If a child tells you about abuse, listen, reassure and believe the child. Tell the child that telling you was the right thing to do.

Learn the difference between thoughtful discipline and harmful discipline:

If you’re angry or upset, wait to discipline your child. Give yourself a time out. Count to ten. Calm down. Reward the behavior you want. Know what triggers your own anger and out-of-control emotions and have a plan to respond instead of react.

Create a support network around you: Carry a 9-1-1 card of names to call in an emergency and post it on the fridge and in your smart phone. List people who can help babysit, run errands, or give you time when you need to de-stress.

Decide that the cycle of abuse and neglect stops with you: Some 30 percent of abused and neglected children will abuse their children. If you were abused or neglected as a child, get help. It’s never too late to get help for that wounded child that you still are. Find a counselor, a program and do whatever it takes to heal so you don’t end up hurting anyone else.

Tell your own children that you love them: Tell yourself that, too.

Help a stressed out parent: Babysit a child for a parent who needs a break, especially a single parent or a new parent.

Watch over the neighborhood: Spend time on your front porch or stoop. Be a presence and power for the children where you live. Throw a block party. Get to know your neighbors and their children.

Make sure children know they are not responsible for abuse.

Speak up: Courage is a muscle. Use it and it grows.

Every child is our child.

Imagine if we all acted like we believed that.

What kind of work are you looking for, I asked.

"Teaching. There aren't any jobs for teachers. I've looked everywhere," she said.

What is your dream job? I asked.

"Oh, I don't really want to teach," she said, and her eyes lit up. "I want to coach and edit writers."

It struck me that her life was telling her to follow that dream, one she might have to invent, versus going after a job she knew she didn't want.

Sometimes you don't get what you tell yourself you want because it isn't really what you want.

Sometimes the answer to what you want is right in front of you.

Sometimes our life tells us our life's work.

I thought of that after being interviewed by columnist Kristen Jordan Shamus who said my book changed her life. Kristen writes an uplifting column for the Detroit Free Press that sprinkles joy, love and laughter into the newspaper.

She loved the story I told her about the interpreter I met recently at a talk. When I asked the interpreter how she got into signing for the deaf and hearing impaired, she told me this story:

When she was 14, she worked in an ice cream shop. One day a man came in and held up a sign: one chocolate cone. It puzzled her, but she scooped him his cone.

He came in again and again, each time he held up the sign. She realized he was deaf.

So she got books on sign language. When he came in the next time, she signed the words: "How can I help you?"

The man was stunned. Then he left, without his cone, which stunned the girl.

He came back minutes later -- with a carload of deaf people. 

That man changed the girl's life. She's now a professor at Kent State University and teaches sign language.

Life gave her a sign.

Life gives all of us a sign.

What's yours?

I saw that sign outside of the Cleveland Institute of Music when I attended one of their amazing Pianofest events.

So what is keeping you from excellence? Could be your bad habits.

I just read "The Power of Habit" by Charles Duhigg. It's a fascinating book about how to change your habits. There are three parts to every habit:

Cue

Routine

Reward

The cue is a trigger that tells your brain to go on autopilot and engage a habit.

The routine is the physical, emotional or mental response.

The reward is what makes your brain want to repeat the process.

The author suggests, if you want to start running, always leave your sneakers next to your bed and make sure you give yourself a reward for running. (Probably not a donut which would defeat the purpose of the run.)

Charles joins me tonight on The Regina Brett Show, along with brain expert Theresa Desrochers and Cleveland Clinic psychologist Scott Bea.

If their tips work for you, share your success story with the rest of us who will probably just create a new habit of tripping over the sneakers next to our bed.

I have five sisters and five brothers. Any time I read about the science of birth order and what it means to be the oldest or youngest or middle child, I have to laugh. What if you're one of the many middle children in a big family?

Tonight at 7 on "The Regina Brett Show" on WKSU 89.7 FM, I get to talk to Jeffrey Kluger, author of "The Sibling Effect: What the bonds among brothers and sisters reveal about us." He has three brothers.

I'm thinking about my brother Tom as I write this. Today is his birthday. He's younger than me but has always been like a big brother. He bailed me out of trouble, made me laugh whenever I cried and was the first guy to love me unconditionally.

Maybe that's what siblings do. They love you without conditions. They don't always like you. They tease you when you tag along, they tell you you're adopted to distance themselves from you, they play impractical jokes on you, but they are there for you when you feel like no one else in the world is.

Last week my grandson, Asher, turned 3. This week, he discovered what it means to be a sibling. His little sister is only 8 months old. She's opening up like a flower, wide smiles and squeals and laughter when she sees him. They sat together in the rocking chair, and for the first time ever, laughed and giggled together.

They will become, as Kluger says, "collaborators and co-conspirators." They will also become each others' memory banks, role models, and if they're lucky enough, best friends for life.

On Friday, it will be six years since Keely died.

Those of us who loved her will light a candle and remember the bright spot she was in our lives.

If Keely hadn’t suffered from severe bipolar disorder, she would be graduating from college this year with her friends and classmates from Shaker Heights High School.

Keely Brett-Eiger was 16 when she took her life.

People outside her inner circle never knew how much she struggled. Her smile hid her pain. My cousin Phil’s beautiful daughter took her life after school the day before St. Patrick's Day.

After the funeral, I told my oldest sister that it was hard to understand a death by suicide, especially a teenager's. When I said it would have been easier to understand if she had died from a disease, my sister said, “She did.”

Keely died from a disease you couldn't see. One I didn’t even know she had until it killed her.

We all know someone who struggles with mental illness. Depression. Bipolar disorder. Schizophrenia. They come with the same shame, stigma and secrecy.

Her father explains it this way: “She had a disease that cast a huge shadow over her life. She died because she couldn't bear the darkness any longer.”

That’s why we remember her with light.

For those who knew Keely, please light a candle on Friday.

For those who didn’t know her but want to honor the life of a happy, shy girl with a lovely laugh and beautiful red hair, please light a candle.

For those who know someone who struggles like her, please light a candle.

Let’s create a ring of light to honor Keely and to remind us all to be the light, to do what we can to make the darkness bearable.

March 5th has always been a miracle day for me. When she was born, I was just 21 and had no clue how to be a parent, especially a single mom still living at home with my own parents.

All those years ago when I found out I was pregnant, it seemed like my world collapsed around me. I dropped out of college, quit my job, lost most of my friends and became, what was then a great shame: an unwed mother.

I remember shopping for maternity clothes at Sears with my left hand in my pocket so no one would see I wasn't wearing a wedding ring.

Together we raised each other. My daughter taught me more than I ever taught her. She is now a parent, and a much better one than I ever was.

The greatest thing she taught me was that miracles often come out of the mess of life, out of what we see as our mistakes. They often hold the greatest blessings. We just can't see it right away.

Looking in the rearview mirror of life, it all makes sense. You can see how all the broken pieces and parts and paths all aligned. You can see how it all made you exactly who you were meant to be, and her, too.

What a gift it all is. The mistakes, the mess, the miracles.

Happy birthday Gabrielle Veronica Brett.

That's what every community asks. That's what the folks in Chardon, Ohio, are asking today.

A student opened fire at Chardon High School this morning at breakfast in the cafeteria. He killed one student and wounded four others. Police have identified the boy as T.J. Lane, who other teens said was quiet but nice.

CNN called Chardon a Cleveland suburb. 

Chardon isn't even a city. It's a village. A calm, quiet, rural refuge from big cities and crime. 

Is there any refuge?

Not geographically. No school, no city is completely safe.

We have to be a refuge for each other.

We have to hug our children tighter, every day, not just on a day like today. We have to be their protectors, their guardians.

And when we can't protect them from violence, we have to bear it with them, and bear them up with love and hope and the belief that no matter what, we can get through even this, together.

I’d like to write a column that answers this simple question:

What is a Christian?

The question was inspired by the Rev. Franklin Graham, son of the evangelist Billy Graham. On Tuesday while on the MSNBC show “Morning Joe,” he said that he wasn’t sure if President Barack Obama was a true Christian.

“He’s come out saying that he’s a Christian,” Graham said of the president. Then Graham said, “The question is, what is a Christian?”

Interesting. So I pose that question to you:

What is a Christian?

I’m asking various people to explore what it really means to be a Christian. Do people believe it to be the same thing? I doubt it.

A Southern Baptist author once told me he could help promote my book as long as I didn't reveal that I was a Catholic. "Just tell them you're a Christian," he said. 

So whether you're a Catholic, Mormon, Protestant, Jew, atheist, agnostic, or something else, what do you think it means to be a Christian?

They came because she sang her heart out, even when it was broken. "You could have had it all," came after her boyfriend dumped her. So did those lyrics we can all relate to, "Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead" from her song, "Someone like you."

I recently got this email from a woman in Panama:

"I just read your book, God never blink, but I need your help urgently! I am 39 years, with 2 kids, divorced 11 years ago. I had a relation with a man after that for about 9 years (he is married.) We discuss because I told him he was selfish and he didn't care about my future and he just told me that I was right and that's why he will leave me alone so I can continue my life. I'm completly sad, disappointed and without any hope of having any chance in life, because this is the second time I tried to have a family and I failed again. Please HELP ME!!!"

I don't know the writer, but I do know the heartache of loving someone who doesn't love you back or doesn't love you enough to be fully in the relationship 100 percent.

What would I tell her?

Keep your heart open. More love will come into your life. Be patient.

Let him go. You deserve better than him. You deserve someone who is free to love you. You deserve someone who is available to love you. He isn't.

Before I married a man who cherishes me, I wasted a lot of years and a lot of tears on men who weren't available for a real, lasting relationship. If a man is married, he's not available. Release him with love and embrace your own heart with love.

There is hope. Allow yourself to believe in better. Don't settle. Never settle. 

You are worth only the best, but you have to believe that before anyone else will.

Get busy loving that woman in the mirror, love her so much that she will attract only love, and it will come. Trust me. Better yet, trust you.

Just like that.

Just 53.

He died in a car wreck Friday morning on a snowy road after one last book signing on Thursday night.

You knew him through all the books he wrote. Jeffrey gave voice to Randy Pausch in The Last Lecture. He gave Gabby Giffords words to tell her story. He gave Captain Sully more than a moment on the Hudson in a plane in the water. He gave the girls from Ames a chance to share their friendship and inspire that same love for others all over the world. 

I met Jeffrey many years ago after he won the Will Rogers Award from the National Society of Newspaper Columnists. I was once president of the NSNC, a fun loving bunch of columnists from all over the country.

Jeffrey was chosen for the award because he did so much to spotlight humanity, good decent people doing good decent things for the world.

That's what Jeffrey always was, a good, decent human being. He looked out for others. He looked for the good in others. He captured it and disappeared in the process. He let others shine through his words.

The Trappist monk Thomas Merton once wrote, "Let me at least disappear into the writing I do...the work could be a prayer."

Jeffrey's life truly was a prayer. A prayer for others.

Jeffrey helped me many times when I was stuck. We chatted on the phone or by email and he was never too busy to return a call or urge me on into the amazing world of authordom that he inhabited with such humility and grace and ease. He even gave me a blurb for my book, God Never Blinks, which I treasure now more than ever.

He used to write a column in Chicago called "All that Zazz" and held an annual Zazz Bash for singles. He told me he was so proud that so many couples met there and married. He helped 78 couples find their soul mates.

I remember him telling me after a book signing, a grueling tour of events for The Last Lecture, that he really wanted to get home to his family, that Randy Pausch, would be telling him, go home and hug your kids, kiss your wife. And yet he wanted Randy's story to spread, and it did. To 5 million readers, thanks to Jeffrey.

I pray for those girls he left behind, a wife and three daughters he loved so much. His last book was inspired by his love for his daughters.

"The Magic Room: A story about the love we wish for our daughters."

The Magic Room. I imagine he is in one now, interviewing everyone there, fascinated by each story and ready to tell them all.

My new book "Be the Miracle" has only been out for two weeks and it's already been an amazing journey. People are blessing me in so many ways.

Last week, 300 people showed up at the library in Independenc. On Monday, 200 came to The Plain Dealer. On Tuesday, 200 more came to the library in Strongsville.

.

Tonight, more than 400 people braved a snowstorm to come to St. John Vianney Church in Mentor. One man gave me a thumb cross, a little wooden cross to keep in my pocket to remind me to be grateful.

Tony Stroczynski, a master wood carver from Mentor, originally carved them for the sick and dying. His wife, Lottie, was a nurse who gave them out to patients. They have both passed on, but others have continued their ministry.

A woman named Alice handed me sticky note with a prayer she uses every day:

"Dearest Lord, I love You with my whole, whole heart.

Not for what you give me, but for who You are...

Take my heart and fill it full of love for Thee.

All I have I give to Thee,

Give Thyself to me."

Two friends who hadn't seen each other in 30 years rekindled a friendship tonight.

What a journey.

What a joy you all are.

If you want to be the miracle, where do you start?

Here are 50 tips, all from my new book, Be the Miracle:

1. Start where you are.

2. Get busy on the possible.

3. You can make a big difference, no matter how little you make.

4. Magnify the good.

5. Do your best and forget the rest. It could simply be too soon to tell.

6. We all do the same things. It's how we do them that makes the difference.

7. Interruptions are divine assignments.

8. Adjust your own oxygen mask before helping others, or you'll be of no use to anyone-- including you.

9. Instead of treating people the way you want to be treated, treat people the way they want to be treated.

10. If you want to see a miracle, be the miracle.

11. Everyone matters to somebody.

12. Speak up for others, especially when they aren't present to speak up for themselves.

13. Give birth to yourself every day.

14. Sometimes it's enough to make one person happy.

15. The secret of life is no secret. It's sprinkled all over your life.

16. If you can't be the rock, be the ripple.

17. Give as if the world is your family, because it is.

18. Everyone is either your student or your teacher. Most people are both.

19. Pray like you mean it.

20. Arrive early.

21. Dream big.

22. Consult your own soul. Deep inside you already know the answers you need.

23. Get in the game.

24. God doesn't always call the strong. Sometimes you have to be weak enough to serve.

25. When you have nothing but faith, you have enough.

26. Be a good monk. Make your life a prayer.

27. Believe in abundance.

28. Shine your light, no matter how dark the world around you appears.

29. Comfort the sick. When everyone else flees, be the one who stays.

30. You have an endless supply of abundance from a wealthy Father who loves you, and so does everyone else.

31. Carry as you climb.

32. Be an original. Forge your own path.

33. Harness the power of hope.

34. Watch well your words. Practice restraint of tongue and pen.

35. No matter what happens, don't take it personally. Take it spiritually.

36. The world needs your Yes!

37. Empower your power by joining forces.

38. You are a child's most important teacher.

39. What you think about, you bring about.

40. Aim higher.

41. Make someone else's dream come true.

42. Triage.

43. A saint is someone who knows how much God loves them.

44. Don't quit before the miracle happens.

45. Make amends as soon as you can, while you still can.

46. Silence the noise. In times of doubt or indecision, pause and make room for God.

47. To be a channel of peace, you have to stay open.

48. God will not have His work made manifest by cowards.

49. Leave a legacy time can't erase.

50. If you woke up today, God isn't through with you yet.

The Plain Dealer ran a week of excerpts. Big thanks to my publisher, Terry Egger, and my editors, Debra Adam Simmons, Thom Fladung, Chris Quinn and Barb Galbincea.

If you missed the excerpts, here are all seven:

Start Where You Are. That's lesson one.

Get Busy on the Possible. That's lesson two, one that cancer taught me.

Speak up for others especially when they aren't present to speak up for themselves. I'm still working on this one.

Watch well your words. Practice restraint of tongue and pen. I'm doing better with this, but still have a long way to go.

Don't quit before the miracle happens. This lesson still amazes me. 

Make amends as soon as you can, while you still can. Do it now before it's too late.

To be a channel of peace, you have to stay open. No matter what, keep your heart open.

And finally, this excerpt ran in VIV magazine:

Adjust your own oxygen mask before helping others, or you'll be of no use to anyone -- including you.

I hope you enjoy the excerpts and the book. Wherever you go, wherever life takes you, Be the Miracle for someone.

After the Plain Dealer ran Lesson 12 from my book Be the Miracle, I heard from dozens of readers who also regret not speaking up for others. Here are a few of their emails:

"Many years ago we lived next to a divorced mom with three small children. For quite a while my husband and I witnessed many things that concerned us, child neglect as well as awful living conditions.

This was a middle class neighborhood...stuff happens everywhere. I finally could not watch what was happening and could only imagine what I could not see. I called authorities and it did not take long, the children were taken away to live with their father. I never regretted what I did knowing those children went on to a better life."

Another one wrote:

"I worked in amusement parks for many years, and I have seen people at their worst. But I saw a young man reprimand a woman passing by for yelling at and hitting her young child repeatedly, and I always respected that man for his small participation.  He inspires me to speak up, though fortunately I haven't had to very often.

"I wanted to tell you about my silence that I regret, just to get it off my chest.  Several years ago, I attended a soccer game at Brush High School, as my sister's guest.  Her son was playing for Brush against Cleveland Heights High. The crowd rooting for Brush was mostly, if not all, white, and the supporters of CHHS were a mix of races, but predominantly black.  It was a fun game, until Brush lost. As the CHHS crowd celebrated with cheers and applause, one white woman from Brush stood staring at them with hostility. Then she shouted at them, "Go back to the ghetto where you belong!"  I could not believe my ears.

"This couldn't be acceptable in this day and age, in this town!  I badly wanted to yell back at her, but I didn't. No one did. I kept my mouth shut, because I didn't want to make my sister uncomfortable, since this was her community.  All I felt I could do was glare at the woman.  Had I been alone, I like to think I would have said something to that racist, though I'm not sure what.  

"It's hard to know when or how to respond to someone who does or says something really offensive when one has something to lose for speaking up: a relationship, a job, etc.  But no matter what the circumstances, not speaking up always leaves one feeling regret."

This last one touched me. I love the quote from Robert Kennedy, one of my earliest heroes:

"My conscience still nags about some of the times I haven't spoken up. What you are talking about is 'moral courage,' the 'willingness to speak truth to power despite disapproval from one's own community.'

Robert Kennedy once said: "Few are willing to brave the disapproval of their fellows, the censure of their colleagues, the wrath of their society. Moral courage is a rarer commodity than bravery in battle or great intelligence. Yet it is the one essential, vital quality to change a world that yields most painfully to change."

 

At least that's what happens to most of them.

I gave up making long lists of things to change in my life. Instead, I started choosing a word for the year. Joy. Love. Believe. Hope.

This year, I'm planning to focus on finding joy in the present moment. Instead of daydreaming about some better experience, I want to fully immerse myself in what is.

Yoga helps develop that skill. I've dabbled in it but haven't yet commited to a real practice. It's all about breathing through various positions, which helps you breathe through whatever life hands you.

On Wednesday at 7 p.m., we're going to talk about breathing and yoga on "The Regina Brett Show" on WKSU 89.7. Judi Bar, founder of HeartLight Yoga, will break the myths we all believe about yoga and help us get started changing our lives from the inside out. She's a yoga teacher, therapist and yoga program director for the Cleveland Clinic Center for Lifestyle Medicine.

She'll talk about yoga, its benefits, the differences in styles,  mindfulness, behavior changes that can come with practice and yoga therapy.  She will offer breathing and yoga poses and guided relaxations.

Call in with your questions or comments at 888-957-8897 or email regina@wksu.org

It helped me to train my magnifying glass on everything she did right and loving and good. It also created an opening in my heart for more gratitude.

Many have read about that list in God Never Blinks and done the same.

I just got this email from a woman in Colombia:

"My intention is to say thank you. Sometimes we think we are doing well but God has some weird ways to let us know we are wrong and your book was one of those things. He used this time to help me getting back on His track. Each one of your lessons applies to a specific part of my life. However I would like to concentrate in lesson 45. 'The best is yet to come.'

"Reading about your relationship with your mom made me think about my dad. We use to have a good relationship but after years passed by things changed. I read your book before Christmas this year and I took into account things I could acknowledge to my dad beginning since my birth day and even I motivated my two younger brothers to do it.

"We also decide to make another list to my mom and we read it during the Christmas dinner. I have to say that it was a whole success and the first step to start a new stage with my dad. Now I am 25 and many good things are waiting for me and my family. I only want to have God's blessing and the company of my family. Thank you a lot for that idea you really helped me."

It's also a good way to end the old year and start the new. When you list everything you love about someone, you open the door to more love.

The Secret Santa layaway gifts started at a KMart and spread across the country.  One person spent $3,000 to pay off the layaway items for 15 people. At one store, anonymous donors took care of 75 accounts.

The spirit of goodwill is spreading to other stores. Liz Murphy, from the Learned Owl book store in Hudson, wrote to share that a customer put down a deposit to order a large set of hard-back books as a gift. When the store called to tell him they had arrived, he came in to tell them he didn't have the money yet. 

A customer overheard the conversation and came in the next day and paid for all of the books, all $150 worth.

Wouldn't it be great if this kind of Christmas spirit spread, not just to other stores, but into the new year? 

Thoughtfulness is the key to thanking those people who enhance our lives all year long by delivering the mail and the newspaper, styling our hair, cleaning our homes, walking our dogs, babysitting our children.

I just got this email from a hairdresser who read my column on tips:

“I depend on my tips and I am amazed at the ignorance people show, especially at this time of year.

“I enjoy what I do, and my clients. I'm happy to stay late, come in early, squeeze them in when they need it. Through the years I have learned that the good tippers get the service and the bad tippers have to wait. In the past I've come in on my day off for no tip, saved someone's home dye job for a small tip, or worked in a stranger for no tip.

“The holidays have become a mystery to me. I get plants, used candles, stale candy, and empty cards. Truly, I'm grateful for their business and kindness. But, business is business. I listen to more sins than their priest, and I get a used candle?

“I'm not your friend. I work for you. I wish I could post your column over my station. Thanks for letting me vent. Have a wonderful holiday. I can't say my name. I need my job.”

And we need all those people to continue to bless our lives, so be as thoughtful as you can when tipping them.

In England, my book is called, "Life's Little Detours: 50 Lessons to Find and Hold onto Happiness." A reader there recently sent this email:

"I bought your book - Life's Little Detours - in a superb bookshop in England. I couldn't put your book down and I will buy a second copy for Christmas for a dear friend of mine.

"My marriage broke down in 2010 and I had to leave behind a woman I thought I'd grow old with, and most importantly, three wonderful kids; albeit they are all adults. I can't say that the challenges I've faced in my life have been as personally traumatic as yours....I've generally enjoyed good physical health and that, together with a fairly positive outlook has kept me going.

"That said, I've sometimes visited that dark place in the mind when I felt alone, defeated, unwanted and spent. My (ex) wife and I lost a baby son 25 years ago; I lost a job I loved 3 years ago and then lost the woman I had loved for over 30 years.

"However, I found a strength in myself and received wonderful support from family and those close friends who mostly reveal themselves and their true nature when you're struggling with life's occasional hardships. I also belatedly realised that actually I'm a good guy and have a lot going for me.

"Despite countless 'knockbacks' and a few false starts I decided that if I couldn’t land the job I wanted and needed, I'd create it. So I now run my own small business. It's a struggle but I'm still fighting. My self-esteem and confidence are growing but I've come to understand that these aspects are largely in my hands.

"In recent years I've read a select number of 'Self-Help' and popular psychology books and in truth I've taken something from just about all of them. Your 'little gem' of a book is right up there with the best of them. You're right of course, Life isn't tied with a bow, but it IS a GIFT.

"A long time ago a friend gave me a little card containing the following observation; "Every day is a good day; if you don't believe that, just try missing one." Thank you for being you and sharing the stories. Best Wishes, Chris."

Thank you, Chris, for sharing that gem of a lesson. Every day is a good one.

How do you decide what to tip?

What do you tip if you're broke?

Tonight on The Regina Brett Show, we're talking about holiday tips and tipping waiters, waitresses all year long. Steve Dublanica, author of Waiter Rant and Keep the Change, joins us. We also have Connie Schultz, columnist for Creators Syndicate and Parade magazine.

Connie won a Pulitzer Prize, based in part on her columns about tipping.

We'd love to hear from you, especially if you're a service worker whose livelihood depends on tips.

Call us at 888-957-8897 or email during the show: regina@wksu.org

Decorating? Check.

Cards mailed? Check.

Shopping? Check. Check. Check. Check. Check....

Feeling overwhelmed by it all?

Tune in tonight at 7 on "The Regina Brett Show" on WKSU 89.7 FM.

We'll help take some of the crazy out of Christmas.

Jean Staeheli, co-author of "Unplugging the Christmas Machine," will talk about how to simplify the holiday. She advises people to get to the heart of your values and do only what brings you the most meaning.

Andrew Shaffer, a contributor to the book, "The Atheist's Guide to Christmas" will talk about how to find meaning in the season no matter what you believe or don't believe.

Call in with questions or comments: 888-957-8897 or email regina@wksu.org

Every year, I try to pass it on.

My earliest memory of St. Nicholas Day comes from Immaculate Conception School in Ravenna. The nuns back then were tough, which made their sweet act stand out even more. I've sometimes referred to those 8 years of Catholic school as boot camp. The nuns who taught us had classrooms packed with 40 children. They must have been at their wits end many days, and like us, weren't always at their best.

But one day of the year, they made a true blessing for us.

I remember walking into the classroom every December 6 and finding a surprise on my desk. A candy cane. A little bag of treats. A sack of cookies.

At home, we'd get a little treat stuck in the shoes we placed outside our bedroom door before bed on Dec. 5. Usually a pack of gum or a roll of Lifesavers.

The nuns always remembered to give us a treat, too.

Some part of me knew they loved surprising us even more than my parents did. Some part of me knew it was because those women would never have children of their own to surprise on Christmas Day. They must have felt happy as elves passing out all those goodies to make us feel special.

It's a sweet tradition that I still pass on. Last night I was babysitting my grandbabies and left a present outside their doors. A little fingerpainting kit for Asher, a teething ring for Ainsley. Their parents got candy in their shoes next to their bed.

I love that it doesn't get lost in the mix of Christmas, the shopping, baking, wrapping, decorating.

It's just a moment, but sometimes something as small as a moment leaves an imprint that becomes a memory that lasts forever.

It fits in a stocking. It's easy to wrap. You can even cheat and read it before you give it. Just don't spill any coffee on it.

How do you decide which book to give everyone on your gift list?

Karen Long, the Plain Dealer's book editor, knows how to read people. She'll share her tips tonight at 7 p.m. on "The Regina Brett Show" on WKSU 89.7 FM.

We'll also have Liz Murphy, owner of The Learned Owl bookshop in Hudson and Suzanne DeGaetano owner of Mac's Backs in Cleveland Heights.

Call in with your comment or questions: 888-957-8897 or email regina@wksu.org

The story I love to tell most happened on Thanksgiving Day.

Ten years ago, I invited a friend to share Thanksgiving dinner with us. Sharon was pregnant, and not married...in the same situation I had been in at age 21. The morning of Thanksgiving, she called and asked if she could bring her brother to join us.

My parents always taught us to make room for more at the table. We had 11 children, but my parents always welcomed anyone who needed a home for the holidays.

One year, I brought a co-worker. Thrity's family lived in India.

One year, my brother brought a college friend. Eduardo's family lived in Costa Rica.

One year, my sister invited a friend whose family didn't celebrate holidays. So of course I said yes to Sharon.

On Thanksgiving Day, I opened the door to Sharon and met her brother, James, a handsome Irishman with stunning blue eyes.

Three years later, my daughter married him.

This year we'll welcome another person to the table. My new grand baby, Ainsley, who has the same blue eyes as her daddy and big brother, Asher. They'll sit near their aunt and cousin, and we'll all give thanks for that Thanksgiving Day.

It's less about what happens to you and more about how you respond to whatever happens to you.

Tonight at 7 p.m. on "The Regina Brett Show" we're having a live studio audience with Giving Thanks as the topic.

Jim Smith, who calls himself "The Executive Happiness Coach," joins us. He wrote the book, "Happiness at the Speed of Life."

He offers great tips:

Stop rubbernecking and comparing your life to everyone else.

Surround yourself with happy people.

Document your blessings.

Be a tourist in your own life and see it from new perspectives.

Be positively selfish. 

What does that mean? I'm not sure, but I'll ask him tonight. Tune in to 89.7 FM WKSU or listen later by podcast.

We'll also have Karen DeLuca, author of "Living Your Life in Gratitude." She has a whole list of tips on bringing more joy into life. 

A foster mom who took in hundreds of children will share how to spread that joy around. 

You can call in and share what you're most grateful for: 888-957-8897 or email regina@wksu.org

We were surrounded by veterans growing up. Every uncle served, and most of them in the war.

My mom's brother lied about his age and joined the Army when he was 16. He ended up in a German prisoner of war camp for three years. He lost part of his hearing from one beating. When he came to visit, we were kids raised on "Hogan's Heroes" and "F Troop." We didn't know much about real war. We thought it was cool to ask, "How many Germans did you kill?" Uncle Chuck, who had a loud hearty laugh, would get quiet, and just soflty say, "War isn't like you see on TV."

Then there was mom's brother Michael. The quiet man. He never spoke of war. He was one of the original Rangers. Darby's Rangers. They trained in secret and my mom didn't know where he was through most of the war, until the day the telegram came that he was being sent home. He had contracted malaria and nearly died.

My dad flew more than 30 missions as a tail gunner. I never quite knew what that meant until one day he took us to a tiny airport in Akron where they displayed old war planes. How in the world did my dad, all 6' 2" of him, squeeze into the back of that tiny plane? 

All my dad's pictures of the war show a row of tail gunners, most of them short guys, then that tall, thin drink of water, my dad, always a foot taller. We found out he asked to be a tail gunner so he could send more money back home to his poor family. The job was dangerous so it paid more.

My uncle Chuck, my Uncle Mike, my dad, they're all gone.

But other veterans are among us. Today, on the 11 hour of the 11 day of the 11 month, let us pause and give thanks for every single one of them. For guys who gave up the lives they planned for the lives they ended up living once they came back. For guys who still wake with shakes and terror from the jungles of Vietnam. For guys who left a part of their soul in Korea, Iraq,  Afghanistan. For the forgotten women who have served for decades.

Veterans who are now greeters at Wal Mart, grocery store baggers trying to earn a buck, homeless drifters whose inner demons can't be beat. Veterans who are now simply grandpa and grandma, mom and dad, the guy next door, the math teacher, the usher at church.

Pray for them all. Take the time to learn their stories, and if they don't want to share their stories, pray for them even harder.

"Eat food with purpose, on purpose."

That's the motto of Dr. Susan Albers, a psychologist at the Cleveland Clinic, who specializes in eating issues. She is the author of five books about Mindful Eating, the most recent being “But I Deserve This Chocolate:  the 50 most common diet-derailing excuses and how to outwit them."

She's joining us tonight at 7 on "The Regina Brett Show" on WKSU 89.7 FM to talk about mindful eating.

With the holiday treats just around the corner, we thought it would be good to be prepared.

We also have Sue Clarahan, a licensed and registered dietitian with a degree in Food and Nutrition. She owns Clarahan Consulting: Making Nutrition Sensible and Practical and helps clients find a balance and positive relationship with food and one’s body. Her personal motto is “great living through good eating!”

Ann Weinzimmer, an attorney with Jones Day in Cleveland, is chairperson of the junior advisory board at Westside Ecumenical Ministries (WSEM). She'll talk about the Food Stamp Challenge, a 7-day commitment that runs from Nov. 11-17 where people try to live on live on $31.04 a week, the average food stamp allocation for an individual.

Join the conversation. Call during the show: 888-957-8897 or email: regina@wksu.org.

Every so often an author came up to me and asked, "So how are you doing today? Has it been a successful day for you?"  I think they wanted to know, "So how many books have you sold?" 

For me, it's not a numbers game. It's sort of like anyone who makes it to the Big Leagues: you're just so grateful to be standing at home plate, you want to savor being there, not worry about your batting average.

Why do we write? For moments like this: A woman came up to my table and said she was sick last year at Thanksgiving and was all alone, but she really wasn't alone. "I had your book with me and read it all day," she said, as tears streamed down her face.

Wow. You think, It doesn't get better than that.

And then it does.

You open your email and read this from Jean K.:

"Just thought you might like to know.  I went to the funeral last week of a dear friend.  Her daughter spoke and relayed that before she died her mother gave her and her sisters a copy of your book 'God Never Blinks.'  As an ending to the eulogy she quoted the verse that ends in 'Be'.  It was touching."

She's referring to this, which always brings me peace:

Be still and know that I am God.

Be still and know that I am.

Be still and know.

Be still.

Be.

"My 14-year-old son and I were watching the Rangers play the Yankees when the Rangers' manager strode to the mound and asked the struggling rookie pitcher for the ball.

Looking disappointed, the young pitcher flipped the ball in the air and into the hand of manager Ron Washington. What we saw next was a class reaction to this Big No-No.

The manager gently grabbed the pitcher's arm and placed the ball back into his palm and politely, but firmly, told the rookie to "hand" him the ball.

I was very touched by Mr. Washington's way of getting his point across without dressing down the pitcher.

You don't see much of that in baseball anymore. I'm glad my son witnessed Ron Washington's graceful reaction to the frustrated rookie pitcher.

He was on his way to becoming a big league pitcher that day."

Thanks for sharing that. What makes us Big League players in the game of life are the small, powerful lessons like that.

On Sunday, I dropped off little bags of candy to every child on our street so they wouldn't feel neglected tonight. 

I just had to be at my grandbabies' house to watch them go Trick Or Treating.  Asher, who is 2, had insisted that he go as a tractor, Daddy go as a farmer, Baby Ainsley go as a cow and Mommy go as a hamster.

A hamster?

Mommy worked hard to turn boxes into a strap-on John Deere, complete with a steering wheel, headlights, and a red triangle Slow Moving Vehicle sign on the back. She bought a fluffy white fleece sleeper for Ainsley and sewed black felt blobs all over it to make her look like a Holstein calf.

Daddy ended up going as a football player. (I hope he can get that waterproof mascara off that he smudged under his eyes to look tough.) Mommy ended up wearing the tractor costume because Asher took it off as soon as they walked down the driveway. At least he kept on the straw hat so he looked like the farmer who owned the tractor.

They had a ball. So did I watching them run from house to house. Asher came back with a pumpkin bag full of candy. "Look!" he yelled as soon as he got home, then reached in and dug out a pile of brightly colored...leaves.

"Leaves! Leaves!" he said, so excited. They were so pretty he collected them along with the candy. He's never had candy, so he wasn't sure what all that stuff in the wrappers was. He was just excited to be part of the excitement.

The Kodak moment for me was watching him sit next to his mom on the steps eating cookies and milk together as the last of the kids stumbled home and the Halloween candles flickered in the breeze. Asher was grinning bigger than the smile on the pumpkin next to him.

I just read this one from Nicole:

"Hi Regina! my name is Nicole, 17 and I'm from Monterrey, Mexico. About 2 weeks ago I went to the book fair of my city hoping that a book would find me. I wanted something about love, something magical, something exceptional."

"As I was walking I saw your book. The word that got me was God. The title is amazing." (Good, because I was worried putting 'God' in the title might scare some people away.)

"This night I have already finish it and the book is an amazing chocolate cake. I absolutely adore it. It understands me, it helps me, it gives me so much. Your journey it's a story worth telling and I'm very grateful for your words. Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart and soul. I will do the lessons for the rest of my life."

Oh, Nicole, thank YOU from the bottom, top and middle of my heart for calling my book "amazing chocolate cake." That just might be the highest -- and most delicious -- praise I've ever received.

You don't see the author perched at a microphone in a studio wearing a headset reading for hour after hour, page after page, tripping over words and having to backtrack every few sentences to smooth out the bumpy words or missed ones. That person in the headset is silently reading along with you on the other end, probably in New York City, making sure you pronounce and enunciate every word correctly.

It sounds easy to create an audiobook. Just sit at a microphone and read your book aloud. I just finished taping "Be the Miracle: 50 Lessons for Making the Impossible Possible." It took two days from 9 to 4 p.m. sitting in a radio studio just reading. Over and over and over. I think it's the only two days in my life that I came home and didn't want to read anything. Or talk.

Two things kept me focused, and, I hope, sounding fresh and inspiring. Ainsley and Asher.

I put a framed picture of each grandchild in front of me both days and pretended I was reading to them.

Someday I hope they get to listen to the book. I plan to put a copy of the audiobook into the time capsules I made for them. Since they're only 2 and three months old right now, it'll probably seem like an ancient relic by the time they're grown.

I can hear them now: "What's a CD?"

Yes, little Ravenna High School has one. I didn't know until I got the call.

My grade school Immaculate Conception was torn down. My high school was closed and a new one opened. Then I find myself in the Hall of Fame. 

Am I getting old or what?

It was a delightful night at the Ravenna Elks Club. My mom, my brother, Tom, and his wife, Tish, came to celebrate. My husband, Bruce, introduced me.

They gave each inductee just two minutes to speak. How do you thank a whole town for raising you in two minutes?

I wanted to thank Mr. Maske, my choir teacher, who taught me to make every day joyful.

Mr. Roberto, my biology teacher, who reminded me weekly: "There's no such thing as a free lunch, Brett."  Mr. Ricco, my 9th grade English teacher, who taught me to love words.

I needed to thank all the neighbors on Sycamore Street for keeping our neighborhood safe and fun and for giving us their leftover candy at Halloween. The Ciprianos, Triscorris, Profios, Policanos and Cunninghams loved us as their own.

I wanted to mention those hard workers at Darwal furniture factory four houses down and Rotek ball bearing plant five houses up for working so hard to feed their families, guys like Mr. Mendiola who walked a mile to work every day because a disability kept him from driving. What dedication.

I did get to mention a few of the people that leave imprints on your heart, guys like Hank Irussi, who walked all over town and lived at the library. The caboose man, who waved to us from the tracks behind our house and always threw us candy. The librarians, who fed us food for our hearts, minds and souls.

Small towns like Ravenna are full of people who make a big difference.

You don't really go back to your roots. When you have strong ones like the ones they gave me, those roots are always with you, holding you firm, long after the caboose has disappeared.

Where do you fall in that percent? What is middle class? Working class?

I grew up blue collar. Dad was a sheet metal worker. Mom worked raising 11 children. We never talked about being working class. I figured everyone worked like my dad, since we lived in a house by the railroad tracks with a ball bearing plant four houses down on one corner and a furniture factory five house down on the other end.

We're exploring class on The Regina Brett Show tonight at 7 on WKSU 89.7 FM. Our guests are:

Sherri Linkon and John Russo from the Center for Working Class Studies at Youngstown State University. Chris Evans, who is on the editorial board at The Plain Dealer, also joins us. Rob Walgate from the American Policy Roundtable will also be on the show.

How many classes do we have in America? Someone said just two:

The rich and the rest.

Where do you fall in the mix?

Call the show at 888-957-8897 or email during the hour at regina@wksu.org.

Hope you join us.

My dad tried to teach me but kept grabbing the steering wheel to get the car back in the center of the lane. In drivers ed class, the teacher took us to the cemetery to learn our turns. Great place to learn to drive, it makes you face where you could end up if you drive recklessly.

The sad thing is, car crashes are the leading cause of death for 15 to 20 year olds; 16-year-olds have the highest crash rate of any other driver.

Tonight at 7 on The Regina Brett Show on WKSU 89.7 FM we're talking about teen drivers.

Ray Sanderbeck will talk about his daughter, Michelle, who died in a car accident five years ago when a teen driver lost control of the car.

Dan Cox, manager of Heights Driving School in Richmond Heights, will share his best tips. He's been teaching drivers ed for 28 years. 

Nathan Krug, who was named Trooper of the Year at the Ravenna Post of the Ohio State Highway Patrol, will share his concerns.

Beatriz Luna from the School of Medicine at the University of Pittsburgh will talk about her research on the adolescent brain.

And Bill Vainisi from Allstate Insurance will talk about the STANDUP Act that calls for uniform driving standards across the country.

Call in and share your story. We're at 888-957-8897 or email us regina@wksu.org

At what age should a person be allowed to drive? What kind of training should they get? How can we better protect everyone on the road, especially teenagers?

If you miss the show live, you can listen later by podcast at www.wksu.org/regina

Tell me why...

Did you ever notice...

Andy Rooney signed off on Sunday for the last time on 60 Minutes. I'll miss the old grouch. They described him this way: He had "the demeanor of an unmade bed." And giant ears to match giant eyebrows that hung like thunderclouds over his eyes.

He piled his desk full of pill bottles and yanked out the cotton and asked the question we've all wanted answered: Why in the world do they stuff cotton in there?

Here are some of his best quotes:

"Anyone who watches golf on television would enjoy watching the grass grow on the greens."

"If dogs could talk it would take a lot of the fun out of owning one."

"The 50-50-90 rule: Anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there's a 90% probability you'll get it wrong"

"If you smile when no one else is around, you really mean it." 

"I didn't get old on purpose, it just happened. If you're lucky, it could happen to you."

We're lucky it happened to him. Andy, we didn't always agreed with you, but we enjoyed the ride. Thanks for making us smile every time we see that cotton in the pill bottle.

.  

She was all elbows and freckles just yesterday. Now she's stunning and turning heads.

My big sister, Theresa, plans to buy a T-shirt for Laura's dad. She alread got one for my brother, who has three daughters. It reads:

                                                 D.A.D.D.

                              Dads Against Daughters Dating

Then my little grandbaby, who is only two months old, hit a milestone. Little Ainsley rolled over yesterday. Look out world. Before you know it, she'll be off to homecoming, too.

Wish we could slow down the spinning of the world. I want to savor these girls while they're still girls.

Planning for your funeral and final days seems a bit morose, but it’s actually a great gift to give your family.

Last year my mom sat down and told me what she wanted for her funeral, right down to the readings and songs. She filled out paperwork the church gave her and has it on file so we will all know her wishes.

Tonight at 7 on “The Regina Brett Show” on WKSU 89.7 FM, the topic is “Graceful Exit.”

Sheryl Harris, Plain Dealer Consumer Columnist, and one of my dearest friends, will share tips on how to leave your affairs in order.

Kevin O’Brien, a Life-Cycle Celebrant, will tell how to turn a funeral into a celebration of life. 

Chip Billow, President of Billow Funeral Homes and Crematory, will talk about changing trends.

Charlotte Eulette, International Director of the Celebrant Foundation and Institute, a non-profit educational organization headquartered in New Jersey, will share how to create a ceremony to best mark someone’s passing.

You can call in with questions or comments at 888-957-8897 or email during the show: regina@wksu.org

We’re also going to talk about how to give a eulogy. What would you want said in your eulogy?

I just read this email sent by John, a 32-year-old Clevelander and lawyer:

"Your column from a month or so ago on Steve Jobs and the fact that we are mortal was as great a piece I have ever read. If I could give a personal Pulitzer, you would win for that column.

"The reason why it home so well is that a bunch of us passed the article around the family lounge of the Cleveland Clinic G Building 10th floor. My Mom, Mary, was a patient there, battling a rare liver disease.

"I actually took the article into her room and read it to her. It was as if your words were written specifically to her and my family.

"It gave us strength and reinforced truths we've always known, but sometimes need to be restated.

"My Mom passed away Sunday night. Her death notice is in today's paper. When I cleaned out her room I found next to her slippers and robe, your column  She kept it, and probably re-read it every night. I thought you would want to know that.

"Thanks for the powerful positive influence of your words."

I share John's words as a reminder that we never know the ripples we send out into the world and the lives they reach.

I spent a long weekend in New Hampshire at Camp Robin Hood in Freedom, New Hampshire. Freedom, the perfect name for the Breathe retreat for women.

We exhaled our old stories, got rid of the victims and villains in our lives.

We inhaled our new stories, fresh insights, love and laughter.

Lauren Walker taught me yoga tips that include energy medicine work. She had me pounding on my chest like a gorilla. It really works to get energy flowing. She taught me the essence of a yoga practice: Each pose offers you a challenge to keep breathing through it all. Then, no matter what life throws at you, you just keep breathing and you'll be fine.

The retreat offered endless choices. We could hike, bike, swim, sail, canoe, kayak, shoot rifles, do archery, woodshop, yoga, volleyball, spin, paint or play ga ga.

Somehow I ended up in the rifle range and on the archery field. There I discovered how to hit a bull's eye on the target and in life: Use your breath as your guide and stay focused.

The circle of friends that gathered for discussions and meals and play taught me that I don't want a wider life, I want a deeper life. I don't need any more branches. I don't need to accomplish more things as a measure of my worth. I want simply to grow the roots of my life deeper and embrace all I am and all I have. 

The best way to do that is sink into the present moment, and breathe.

I'm guilty of using the same words over and over to describe everything from fries to a sunset:

Great. Awesome. Wow. Incredible. Cool. Amazing.

Here are some other expressions that cause people to shriek:

Way better.

Way nicer.

Like, you know, like, whatever.

Dude.

It is what it is.

You know? I know.

Really?

Just sayin.

At the end of the day

My bad.

Between you and I.

We talked about language tonight on The Regina Brett Show on WKSU 89.7 FM.

If you missed, it you can listen by podcast.

Arthur Plotnik, author of "Better than Great: A plenitudinous compendium of wallopingly fresh superlatives" suggests we become word adventurers and try out new options.

This week I'm going to try to use some of his suggestions.

No more amazing or awesome. I'll say, Oscar-worthy, finger-licking fabulous, so great it's almost wrong.

No more beautiful or lovely. I'll say, dangerously handsome, feloniously stacked, eyeballs, behave!

For food, I'll try out grubalicious, paradise on a plate and heaven on a fork.

Can't wait to give it a try. It'll be awesome.

Oops.

Writer Annie Dillard once wrote, How we spend our days is how we spend our lives.

I thought of that quote as I prepared my remarks for the Content Marketing Conference in Cleveland this week. The conference was a great event, attended by more than 500 people.

I’ve been a journalist for 27 years. We used to have readers. Now we have customers. We used to tell stories. Now we offer content.

Content.

What exactly does that mean?

Content is too vague a word. What is content? Facts. Data. Information. Links. Ideas. Tweets. Blogs. Emails. Posts.

My talk was about how to tell stories. I think there’s still a place for story telling, now more than ever. Social media shouldn’t leave us feeling like we’re filling an endless hole with information. Our job as “content providers” isn’t to throw everything against the wall and see what sticks or to record everything as if we were court stenographers. We aren’t advancing or enhancing anyone’s life by presenting fact blurbs or mindless trivia.

I urged the audience to create and share content that is meaningful and memorable. Content that matters. The essence of the content is what matters, what makes the difference. Before sending out a tweet or text or blurb on your Facebook or blog, ask;

Is what you’re putting out there worth your life?

Is what you’re putting out there worth the lives of others?

Because people are taking the time to read your posts and tweets and web content. They are giving you minutes of their life. Minutes away from family, hobbies, friends. Precious minutes of life, which add up to hours and days over time.

Every time you write a blog post or send a tweet or post something anywhere, make sure it’s worth your time and the time of those reading it.

If you can, tell a story.  Hemingway once boasted he could tell a story in six words, then did:  For Sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.

Want to be immortal? A story does that.

That’s the power of stories.

That was clear tonight when I gave a talk to 80 people at The Gathering Place who have cancer. I shared how journaling can help. Women with bald heads wiped away tears. People who just finished treatment shared their funniest cancer moment. People who are just starting chemo shared their deepest fears.

We all shared the hope that words offer. We shared the power of stories. Stories that will keep us immortal.

Try blind dates. Speed dating. Craigslist. Plenty of Fish. Flirt with everyone. Get the new phone app SceneTap to locate the hottest bars. Hire a dating coach.

Those are all fine options.

My advice?

Stop looking.

Yes, I'm serious.

Build a life that is so good being alone, if you attract someone, great, if you don't, it's still a great life. When you focus on building a better you simply for you, you will attract more of the same. 

That's how I found my husband. I stopped looking.

I had spent years searching for Mr. Right and settling for Mr. Right Now. It took five years of counseling to park and unpack the U-Haul of the past that was dragging me down and detouring my life. If you keep dating the same person (but with different names) take a look at how he or she matches up to your mom and dad. It'll scare you right into therapy. That's a good place to unpack the U-haul.

Once I did that, I could date without all that extra baggage weighing us both down. I could trust that life would bring to me the perfect match for me alone. There was no more desperation. No more settling for less than I deserved and wanted. No competition with all other single people looking.

I started believing that there was someone for me alone, who would love me as is. Not just tolerate my flaws, but celebrate the mystery of me, flaws and all.

We've been together for 18 years. He still calls me his forever girlfriend. His love hasn't waivered, not even when I got cancer and lost my hair and my breasts and walked around bald for six months. "We're in this for the long haul," he always says.

Here are my best tips for finding your forever boyfriend or girlfriend:

Availability: He or she has to be available or there is no starting point. That means they aren't married, gay if you're straight, in a religious order that requires celibacy, actively feeding a drug or alcohol addiction or living across the world.

A light traveler: Carry-on baggage only. If he or she hasn't dealt with mom and dad and all the exes left in Texas, make a U-turn as soon as you see that U-Haul of the past. You need two whole people if you want a whole relationship.

Clean house: Get your own house in order before you set up house with anyone. Do you have all those qualities that you demand in a mate? Remember, you might attract what you are.

Listen: Pay attention to what is said and unsaid, but mostly to what is done: There's an old saying, Believe everything a man does, not what he says. The same holds true for women. Mostly though, listen to that small still voice inside of you, that inner compass, to find out what feels most right.

Practice: Every date is just practice. Relax before every first date and tell yourself, This is just a practice date. The bigger it bombs, the better story you have to tell one day.

Love yourself: If you love yourself, you don't show up starving in the relationship. You're already filled and have something to offer. A relationship isn't 50/50. You don't give 50 percent. In the best ones, you each give 100 percent.

Believe: B'shert is a Jewish concept that roughly translates to "meant to be." Before you were born, you received a match. You don't need to turn yourself inside out to find it. Be you and you will attract that person you are destined to be with.

Keep your heart open, relax and trust that more love is on its way. 

He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer 7 years ago and was given 6 months to live.

He beat all the odds. He cheated cancer for the longest time. Unfortunately, his time is now running out. 

What an incredible life he has lived. This is a guy born to an unwed mother, given up for adoption. A guy who dropped out of college to take only the courses he found most interesting. He started Apple in his adoptive parents' garage when he was 20. He got fired from the company at 30. He calls that the best thing that happened to him.

Failure can free you up to leap into life. You can risk everything because you literally have nothing to lose.

He does something every morning that I want to start doing. He asks himself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I'm about to do today?"

What would your answer be? Most days, mine would be yes. But that's because I got cancer 13 years ago. The scars on my chest remind me that I have an expiration date. I hope it's decades from now,  but no one knows. 

If you haven't seen it, you've got to watch his commencement address at Stanford University from 2005. He ends it by telling the graduates, "Your time is limited so don't waste it living someone else’s life."

Whose life are you living?

 People applauded during it and burst into spontaneous refrains, cheering on the help at various parts in the movie, especially when Minnie serves up her special pie.

 The movie and the book really make you see world through different skin. The novel by Kathryn Stockett tells about black women in the 60s who cleaned, cooked and cared for the babies of white women in Jackson, Mississippi.

                 Aibileen teaches little Mae to love her self by constantly telling her, “You is kind. You is smart. You is important.”

                 I love when Skeeter's momma tells her, "Sometimes courage skips a generation." You hope you're part of the generation it landed in.

                The tagline to the movie is, "Change begins with a whisper." This movie is about speaking truth to power, finding your voice and living the power of you.

               Skeeter's mom has great advice for us all: Go find your life.

My advice is always the same: write, write, write.

Long before I wrote a book, I wrote columns and news stories. Before that, I wrote in endless journals and diaries. There are stacks of them, some 200 of them, in my office at home.

If you could capture scales on a piano or voice warm up excercises on paper, that's what you'd find in these journals.  Practice writing. What needed to be said before the world would actually hear my voice.

Write what you need to write first. Get it all out. Then find out if the world needs to hear it. Is there an audience who needs your voice? Your story? Your insights?

She also said, "I am a writer because writing is the thing I do best."

If writing is the thing you do best, keep moving the pen, keep pounding away on the keyboard, keep playing your scales and strengthening your voice.

You'll know when the day is ready for the world to hear you sing. A door will swing wide open and the wind will call your name.

Family reunions are highly underrated. If your family has one, go. If you don’t have one, create one.

We had our annual reunion in July. I have 42 first cousins on my Dad’s side, so we always get a crowd.

Even without half of the family present, we filled the shelter with 45 of us. My Aunt Barbara, who turned 80 this year, was the oldest there and the youngest at heart. She even won a prize in the bubble gum blowing contest.

My grandson, Asher, who turned 2 this year, wore his shades, the ones he wears on his forehead during dinner in his highchair when he tells his parents, “Park it in the shade.” He was a hit.

We split up the duties and all brought enough food to feed a Marine Corps battalion. We made my cousin Caitlin our official CEO of Fun. She brought a cooler of water balloons for a toss that, of course, turned into a water balloon fight. We also had a three-legged race.

This was our first reunion without our Aunt Kate, who died this year. She was the last of my dad’s original family of 10 siblings. We saw her Irish eyes smiling in her children and grandchildren.

At the end of the day, we left fat, tired and happy. We knew that glow in the sky wasn’t from the sun. It was from our aunts and uncles smiling down on us, grateful to us all for carrying on this great tradition.

I still miss Joseph-Beth and those cool door handles shaped like books. They always made it feel like you were opening a door into a world of books that could take you anywhere.

We're losing so many bookstores so fast. What is the future of the book?

We're talking about that on The Regina Brett Show this Wednesday at 7 p.m. on WKSU 89.7 FM. You can listen by podcast at www.wksu.org/regina

Readers are mourning and keep emailing me to share their grief. Michael Laughrin sent me a poem he wrote called Borders:

Temple,

School,

Social club,

Hunger fixer,

Heaven on Earth place

Happiness,

Joy,

Escape mode par excellence

Open magazines,

100,000 books,

Intellectual meeting place

Feeding place.

Home of:

Mind flying,

Soul exalted,

Tummy happy,

Sandwiches salted.

It is like a wondrous spaceship,

A starship par excellence

That carries me away,

Effortlessly,

To that place beyond

Where there is only wonder,

Openness,

Clarity

And Infinity.

 Thanks, Michael, for speaking for us all.

Yesterday it showed the temperature outside was 101 degrees. Yikes!

Yes, we are Hot in Cleveland. Fortunately, we have air conditioning in the house. Unfortunately, we only have it in one room. The bedroom is our refuge. It's like stepping into an oven when you leave that sanctuary.

I still prefer the heat of summer over winter. There are a million and one things you can do to beat the heat, but the best one is to change your attitude about it. Take a look at the snow shovel in the garage. Put the snow brush next to you in the passenger seat as a friendly reminder of what will soon come.

Ah, it's not so bad after all. A temperature of 101 degrees? In celsius, it's a mere 38.3 degrees.

What's in your big yellow bucket?

I love when readers share their joyberries. Ashley wrote: 

"This morning my family and I were heading to Dayton, Ohio to spend the day with my Aunt for the fourth of July. We stopped at a McDonalds to grab some breakfast and when we pulled around to the cashier to pay for our order she told us to have a blessed day and that the individual in the car ahead of us had paid for our meal.

This random act of kindness touched my heart in a way that is hard to explain. In a world where most people find it so hard to trust people, especially those we are not familiar with, it is nice to see that the love and kindness God shows us is still apparent within people.

I actually just finished reading your book God Never Blinks on my way back to Columbus this evening, and I just wanted to thank you for writing this piece. It was truly a blessing for me to read, and is something I look forward to passing around my family and friends.

I am twenty-one years old and will be a junior this fall in college. I am also a collegiate basketball player and have struggled with motivation not only to complete my college career as a basketball player, but also with my relationship with God. Luckily both are becoming much easier as I become more and more comfortable with the life God has given me. Your book has also aided me in my love for God, others, life, and myself.

Thank you very much, and I pray that God continues showering blessings through you and other's with the heart and passion for life and love."

Thank you, Ashley, for filling my bucket today.

For nine long months the gift is hidden. A masterpiece in the making. A unique mix of genes and blood and cells that will turn into the child that will steal our hearts away.

We welcomed her into the world at 7:02 a.m. all 7 pounds and 2 ounces of her. Petal soft skin. Sharp tiny fingernails no bigger than snowflakes. Eyes squeezed tight against the light and air and sounds of this brave new world.

Ainsley Veronica Sullivan.

We have loved you from the moment we heard you existed. Before we knew you were the girl in "It's a girl!" Before we felt your tiny hand wrap around our finger. Before you whimpered your first hello. Before you yawned and sighed and let your perfect pink mouth fall open as you slept in our arms.

A daughter. A sister. A granddaughter. A girl.

One day a woman. A bride. A mother. And anything, anything you want to become.

The world is yours and ours to share, to open wide.

We already have, starting with our hearts.

"When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

I just love those words. And these: 

 "We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor."

Would you have pledged as much?  God bless all those who did and do.

My daughter moved on Monday. She and her husband outgrew the cute arts and craft bungalow where they lived for 7 years. They have a 2-year-old and a baby due any day and needed a better floor plan to run after two children.

Talk about crazy, buying and selling a house and moving when you are pregnant and have a toddler. Just proves that life is one big roller coaster ride of thrills.

I got to host them all for a few sleepovers, which I loved. My grandson Asher kept saying, "Asher party slumber at Gita and Pappa's."

Home really is where your heart is. It was in their old house until their hearts left. Their new home -- just 3.4 miles from my house -- felt like home the moment Asher ran in and saw everything they owned unpacked.

He ran from room to room then shoutted with glee, "All my toys are here!"

I love how so many important moments in the Bible start with those words: Fear not!

No matter how much faith I have, fear still seems to sneak into my daily life. My brain manufactures it. There are three shifts working overtime in my head pumping it out. As my friend Aaron says, "My brain is trying to kill me."

This morning while exercising I listened to Joyce Meyer talk about fear. My friend Suellen, who is Jewish, introduced me to Meyer. You don't have to be a Christian to soak up the wisdom and hope Meyer offers.

The topic of the show was fear. I expected Meyer to focus on faith and prayer. Instead, she said it's time to be bold. Instead of giving in to fear, be bold today. Act stronger, bolder, bigger.

So I'm going to practice living more boldly. Try it with me and let me know how it works for you.

Any time fear sneaks in, put on your bold. Fear is a question mark. Bold is an exclamation point. Let's start living like we're invincible. Because when it comes to a life of the spirit, we are.

A reader named Nancy recently sent this email:

"I think I can consider myself a cancer survivor now. I started chemotherapy for Non-Hodgkins-Lymphoma in July 2010 and completed it in November.

"Hair is coming back but I looked at your picture and saw how great your hair looked and wondered about how long it takes to come back.

"I am reading "GOD NEVER BLINKS" and love all the lessons we can learn from it. I felt thankful to get through the chemo and continue to live a normal life. Most days I actually forget I am a survivor."

First, thanks, Nancy for sharing a bit of your story. It always takes courage to share with someone your cancer journey.

Second, you can call yourself a survivor the minute you hear that dreaded C word. I used to think you had to wait until the last chemo or radiation or til you had a full head of hair and no longer looked like a patient.

You are a survivor all along. From the moment you are diagnosed until they put you in the grave decades from now, when, hopefully, you die of old age after a joyful healthy life.

As for the hair, it took me six months to have enough to call it hair. I walked around boldly bald. Do what is comfortable for you. The main thing is, you are still here. After all you have been through, you are alive this bright, shining day. Live the hell out of it!

Me, I don't want to ever forget I'm a survivor. Every morning my scars remind me, in a wonderful way, that today is the day I am living in. Not tomorrow. Not yesterday. Just today, fully, and blissfully alive.

A woman recently sent this email:

“My married life had many ups and downs but we made it through all of them and although things were far from perfect, they were manageable. After 26 years of marriage, my husband had an affair with a woman he worked with.

He spent a year and a half acting like nothing had happened. I was expected to be okay with them seeing each other and talking on the phone. He would not leave when I asked him, saying he had every right to our home as I did. Friends were telling me to stay put. We have a daughter, 22 and a son 16 and it was them who caught their father with this woman at our family cottage. It was devastating and still is.

It has been almost 2 years of the worse possible hell I have ever been through. I finally have to figure out who I am and what I want to do. I am ALWAYS looking out for others and have never done for myself.

I found your book and had it finished in a week. The lessons were wonderful, I could relate to many of them. I just want to say thank you for your words."

            What would you tell her?

            Here’s what I told her:

Ann Landers used to ask readers one question when it came to cheating spouses: Are you better off with him or without him? Only you can decide. No one else.

As for your children, the best thing you can give them is an example. Role model for them what it means to be a loving mother and wife and a strong woman who doesn't let people push her around. It could be the best thing for them to see you build up enough inner strength and financial strength to walk away from this marriage.

No one deserves to be mistreated, to be lied to or cheated on. Dr. Phil is fond of saying, "We train people how to treat us." How do you want to be treated? Start attracting that.

Claim your power and start using it to make your own life better, no matter what your husband does. Your first vow is to yourself, to love and cherish YOU all the days of your life.

How old are you? The one with long hair asks like it's a demand, not a question. She's all of 9. Her friend is 9 1/2. Correction, she explains that she actually turns 9 1/2 in July but she really wants to seem older.

"You can't be a gramma," they both tell me. "You're too young."

How old do you think I am? I ask.

"Twenty?" one says.

"You look really young," the other says.

When I tell them I'm 55 their eyes bug out. I find out their names are Serena and Morgan. Serena is a pistol. She demands to know my secret.

"What's your moisturizer?" she asks. "That must be it."

My moisturizer? How funny. We spend the next 15 minutes giggling like girls.

Whoever said youth is wasted on the young was never 9. Or 9 1/2.

That's what my sister-in-law Chris calls our shared age.

I turned 55 this week. I feel younger than ever, thanks to my 2-year-old grandson. Asher has introduced me to this brand new world he's discovering daily. The best birthday gift I got was his voice on my phone singing, "Happy birthday to Gita."

I love that he made up an original name for me. I was all set to be called Gramma and even encouraged it. Being a grandma doesn't make me feel old. It gives me new energy and reasons to stay in shape to keep up with him. But he wouldn't say Gramma. He came up with Gita, which means song. Maybe he picked it because I love to sing to him.

He loved helping me unwrap presents. He would tear a corner, then get all giggly and say, "What's inside? I don't know!" What fun. I felt like a kid again.

One of my favorite life lessons is The Best is Yet to Come. That keeps coming true every year. Each birthday I reflect on the blessings in my life, and each year there are more.  With Asher, each day there are more.

Reading the The Help made me see the world through different skin.

The novel by Kathryn Stockett tells the stories of black maids in the 60s living in Jackson, Mississippi. These women take orders, hold their tongues, swallow their bitterness and hug their love and hopes into the white babies they raise.

            The story isn’t black and white. “There is an undisguised hate for white women, there is inexplicable love,” Stockett writes.

            Her words touch the heart: “Faye Bell, palsied and gray-skinned, cannot remember her own age. Her stories unfold like soft linen.”

            Aibileen loves little Mae in ways her white mother can’t or won’t.

            “I look deep into her rich brown eyes and she look into mine. Law, she got old-soul eyes, like she done lived a thousand years. And I swear I see, down inside, the woman she gone grow up to be. A flash from the future. She is tall and straight. She is proud. She got a better haircut.

And she is remembering the words I put in her head. Remembering as a full-grown woman.

            And then she say it, just like I need her to. “You is kind,” she say. “You is smart. You is important.”

            “Oh, Law.” I hug her hot little body to me. I feel like she done just given me a gift. “Thank you, Baby Girl.”

            “You’re welcome,” she say, like I taught her to.”

            The movie version comes out in August. Check out the trailer. I hope them movie is as good as the book. If so, bring tissues.

Oprah packed her last show full of wisdom from 25 years, 4,561 shows and 30,000 people she's talked to during her career.

Someone once said, if you had one chance to shout your truth from the rooftops, what would you say? That's what Oprah did for her last show. It's a show I will save and watch often.

Here's the essence of Oprah:

We are all called. Figure out what your calling is and get about the business of doing it. Your calling is what lights you up and let's you know exactly what you are supposed to be doing. What sparks the light in you so in your own way you can illuminate the world?

Let your life speak for you.

Forget fame. Aim for service.

Carry whatever you're supposed to be doing and carry it forward.

You are responsible for the energy you create.

You are not alone, no matter what you have been through or are going through, you are not alone.

Feel worthy enough to own the life you were created for. Too often we block our own blessings because we don't feel good enough or smart enough or pretty enough or worthy enough. You are worthy because you were born.

Your life is speaking to you. What is it saying?

She ended the show by saying she wouldn't say goodbye. "I'll say until we meet again. To God be the glory."

Thank you, Oprah, for helping us be our best selves.

Hitch your wagon to a star. Walk to the beat of a different drummer. Wear sunscreen..

Grads will hear all kinds of advice on commencement day.

But how does one really find and fulfill their mission on earth?

The best tips I ever got was from the book What Color is Your Parachute? by Richard Bolles. After reading the book and doing all the exercises in it, I knew I wanted to be a writer.

The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren helped me recognize my S.H.A.P.E. He talks about knowing your Spiritual gifts, your unique set of abilities God gave you. Heart, the passion God gave you. The Abilities, the set of talents you alone have. Your Personality, the special way God wired you. And finally, your Experiences, all of them. The good, the bad, the ugly can be used to help others.

And Steven Covey's advice to start with the end in sight. At the end of it all, what do you want to have accomplished? What do you want said at your eulogy? If you could write a letter from your 90 year old self to your current self, what would you say?

I keep a quote by St. Francis of Assisi on my desk that reads:

"Keep a clear eye toward life's end. Do not forget your purpose and destiny as God's creature. What you are in His sight is what you are and nothing more.

"Do not let worldy cares and anxieties or the pressures of office blot out the divine life in you or the voice of God's Spirit guiding your great task of leading humanity to wholeness."

What a great mission we all have. To lead humanity to wholeness.

Her husband, former California Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, just announced to the world that he fathered a child with someone who worked in their home. The woman retired after 20 years with his family. The child was born over ten years ago.

I feel for Maria. She recently lost her dad, mom and uncle, now her husband. It must feel like her world has imploded. What betrayal. What loss. How much can one person take?

A dear friend of mine was married 29 years when her husband had an affair. She did her best to love him and be patient and see if she could repair the marriage. He couldn't choose between her and the other woman.  It was the most painful betrayal of all, especially after raising three children together. My friend finally kicked him out.

She's never been happier. She's finally free.

I still wonder why her ex can't bring himself to apologize to her and their three children, to sit down and make real amends to them, to do everything possible to heal the hurt and right the wrongs. An affair requires more than an apology. It requires an amends. That involves an honest admission of wrong, a sincere apology and a willingness to repair whatever damage is repairable. 

I can understand how people can fall in love and cheat on their spouse, but I don't understand why they don't acknowledge the hurt and harm it does to others and try to fix it.

The child that Arnold fathered also deserves more than an anonymous support check in the mail. That child deserves to know his dad without any shame. The child did nothing wrong.

My friend and fellow columnist Connie Schultz wrote a piece for the New York Times about Maria Shriver. Connie is confident Maria will continue to write her own life script.

I hope Maria Shriver will experience this marriage breakdown as a breakthrough. She deserves better. I hope she gets to the freedom part, like my friend did, and her soul just soars.

Margaret Roach traded in the fast lane for a dirt road. She left the glamour of New York City and her job as editorial director of Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia and took up organic gardening. She writes "A Way to Garden" blog that inspires others to coexist with nature and live close to the earth.

As she describes it, "She went from She Who Lives in the World to She Who Lives in the Woods." She pulled her own rug out from under herself. She had to be still and listen to that voice within to forge a new path.

She's loving her new life. You can read about it in her book, "And I Shall Have Some Peace There: Trading in the fast lane for my own dirt road."

What would it mean to live as your authentic, true self? Find out.

Join us for a conversation on How to Reinvent Yourself on "The Regina Brett Show" this Wednesday at 7 p.m. on WKSU 89.7 FM. Margaret will be joining us and you can talk to her by calling 888-957-8897 or you can email her questions and comments at regina@wksu.org

As Mark Twain said, "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

The boat leaves on Wednesday at 7.

You breathe your very life into your children, they're formed by your own blood and food, your heartbeat and breath. The moment you deliver them into the world, you begin an endless series of letting go.

Step by step, breath by breath, you release a child into the world. Erma Bombeck compared it to letting out string on a kite, you release more and more string until one day, the kite soars on its own. Only then do you know that you did your job. 

In my Mother's Day column for The Plain Dealer, I share some of the journey I took with my daughter and see her take with her son. Watching her both hold on and let go of him is teaching me a new lesson:

Get to know the woman who healed your boo-boos with a kiss, sang you to sleep and scared away the monsters under the bed, the woman who brought you into this world and threatened to take you out if you didn't stop running with scissors, teasing your brother and staying out past curfew.

Do you know…

Which earrings are her favorite?

What her high school nickname was?

Her favorite movie?

Her biggest challenge in life?

Her biggest heartache?

How she met the man she married?

Can you name . . .

Her favorite song?

Her first pet's name?

The street she grew up on?

The perfume that is her trademark scent?

Her first crush?

The old flame that left a burning ember in her heart?

Her closest, dearest friend ever?

Her biggest pet peeve?

Which country she wants to visit most?

Her favorite recipe?

Her favorite restaurant?

Do you know . . .

The boldest thing she has ever undertaken?

Her middle name?

The worst trouble she ever got into as a child?

Who taught her to drive?

The best advice she ever got?

Her greatest regret?

Does she prefer . . .

Coffee or tea?

Cats curled up at her feet or dogs snoring by her bedside?

Diamonds or pearls?

Brooches or bracelets?

Dining out or home-cooked meals?

Do you know . . .

How old she was when she got her first kiss?

What she wants on her tombstone?

The most important line she wants in her obituary?

Her biggest fear?

The prayer she uses most often?

Her first job?

Her favorite TV show?

Her most prized possession?

Her favorite story?

Which dreams remain unfulfilled?

What she wants to be remembered for?

The results?

If you think you know your mother, compare your answers with hers. If they're close, chances are you're close, too.

If not, give your mom the greatest gift of all. Take time to get to know her.

Osama Bin Laden had been killed by U.S. forces in Pakistan. The president never looked more presidential as he made the announcement last night on TV.

At first I felt elated. The man who masterminded the attack on our country and other countries around the world was dead. Hurray!

Then I felt a surge of patriotism. God bless the USA!

 But when I saw footage of youthful Americans dancing and cheering in the streets of New York City and Washington D.C., it didn't seem right.

A stillness came over me that hasn't left. 

I can't celebrate the death of any human being, no matter how heinous their crimes, no matter how many victims they murdered, no matter what destruction they leveled. I'm glad that we stopped this man from harming any more people, but I can't cheer his death.

What do we do? What is a respectful response to his death? What is the best way to remember all those who lost their lives in terrorist attacks and in this war on terrorism?

I think we're all called to pray for peace, that peace that surpasses all understanding.

I woke up before the alarm went off. I wanted to be part of a worldwide celebration of love, romance and beauty.

I wanted to be there rooting for William because his mom wasn't. Didn't it just tug at your heart to see those boys so grown up and realize how much their mom missed?

I wanted to see the world cheering for joy. There are so few occasions the entire world is gripped by good news. When was the last one? When Diana and Charles married?  Usually when all countries and continents are glued to the TV, we are watching a disaster unfold, a shooting spree at a school, an assassination of a leader, a terrorist attack. Think about it: Today we all gathered around the globe for love.

It was like watching a Disney movie, the carriage, the gown, the cheers, the flags waving so fast they looked like confetti in the crowd.

I loved the hats. Hats! Hats that looked like lampshades and giant plates and centerpieces on a table. Some had so many feathers, I wondered how many birds were harmed in the making of them. 

I loved the wild cheers over a simple kiss on the balcony.

This weekend I'm going on a retreat. I'm taking with me the quote by Saint Catherine of Siena that was mentioned in the wedding sermon:

Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire. 

Weddings often overshadow a marriage. The endless details about the cake, the band, the hall, the food, the flowers, the gown. I can't imagine what it will be like for Prince William and his bride Kate to settle into a marriage after the giant wedding and reception are over.

In some ways, they're no different than any other couple. They will have to learn how to be someone's life partner and know when to put their spouse's needs and wants ahead of their own. 

Here's what I've learned in 15 years of marriage: Consider them 15 Life Lessons for Happily Ever After:

1. You can agree to disagree. No one has to win or lose an argument. You can have different opinions and views and come to honor and even celebrate your differences.

2. When you find you are both stuck, pause and reboot. Leave the loop you're stuck in. Go for a walk. Wash your face. Listen to some music. Take a breather. Do something to reboot yourself and the relationship.

3. Take the aerial view. How important is this in the scheme of the entire marriage? Can you extend your view of the person to see all the good they did last week, last month, last year?

4. Remind each other, "We're in this for the long haul." That got us through a year of cancer treatments. A marriage might have some rough moments or months. Keep telling yourself and each other, "We're in this for the long haul." Recommit to those wedding vows.

5. If a relationship has to be secret, you shouldn't be in it. If you can't tell your spouse about the lunch you're having with an old lover, cancel the lunch date.

6. Withholding the truth will hurt you both. Honesty isn't just about telling the truth, it's also about not withholding it. Don't withhold information that is important for your spouse to know.

7. If you don't ask, you don't get. Speak up for what you want. Don't expect your partner to read your mind on Valentine's Day, your birthday or even on Tuesday. You won't get everything you ask for, but if you don't ask, you've already given yourself a "no."

8. Use your words, and use them kindly. Edit yourself. If you think an unkind thought, it doesn't have to tumble out of your mouth. You aren't a gumball machine.

9. Enhance each others lives. Every morning, ask yourself: What can I do to enhance my partner's life? My husband brings in the newspaper every day to me. Small, but sweet. I pick him up sushi or a coconut bar for a treat.

10. Listen without your toolbox. Sometimes people want your presence, that's it. They don't want you to fix the problem, they want you to listen and understand. That's all. Sometimes that's everything.

11. Lead with love. Is what you're about to say kind, loving or helpful? If not, maybe it doesn't need to be said.

12.  Ask yourself: How important is this? Will it matter in five minutes? Five months? Five years? Most of us trip over the small stuff. Release and relax.

13. When you're wrong, promptly admit it. Take the high road. Admit to your part. Clean up your side of the street as soon as you see that it needs sweeping.

14. Any time your feelings don't match what just happened, your childhood button just got hit. In any marriage there are six people, you and your spouse, your spouse's parents and your  parents. We bring U-Hauls with us into the marriage. Deal with your past or it'll deal with you. Unpack the U-Haul once and for all. Get counseling if you need it. Release the past, the unresolved issues with mom and dad.

15. You are CEO of your own joy. Don't put the burden of your joy on anyone else. Light your own inner sparkler. No one can snuff it out but you. Feed your own soul and you'll never go hungry.

The paperback has those magic words stamped on the cover: The New York Times Bestseller. Wow, that's my book?! A big thanks to all of you who bought the book and have passed it along to countless friends and family. Thanks for sharing it and spreading the life lessons around the globe.

My publisher updated the paperback to include a blurb from Publishers Weekly, Redbook and various bloggers. It's cool to see their words of praise.

The best part? The paperback is more affordable for people at $13.99. Last night I was at the Mentor Public Library giving a talk and people were buying extra copies for graduation gifts.

I hope it helps all those new grads find their path and to know that the detours could just be the best part of the journey.

Tears fell as soon as I heard my own words, saw my own bald head, saw my daughter's wedding dress, saw my little grandson. I cry just thinking about all the life I've squeezed out of life in the 13 years since hearing the dreaded C word. 

Cancer scares the life out of you. Then it scares the life into you. A new life. A new appreciation for your spouse, your children, your siblings, your parents, your entire world. You never take growing old for granted. Or the next snowfall or shower or chance to hug your grandson.

God bless Lee and Jane Seidman for donating $42 million to build a new cancer hospital. Every cancer survivor will tell you, it's a place we hope we never have to use, but we're eternally grateful to have it right here in Cleveland.

Father Howard Gray, a Jesuit, celebrated the Mass. He said if he had one last sermon to give, the most imporant message would be to tell people about the love of God.

We make God harder than God is, he said. We make God unloveable.

We are loved. We are beloved.

"God has so fallen in love with us," he said. 

It made me wonder how we'd live if we truly believed that we are loved with every fiber of our being in every fiber of our being. Then Fr. Gray said something profound, "I stake my life on the love of God."

Can you? Can I?

His message from the pulpit was to love. My message from my pulpit was to hope. What Easter tells us is to place our hope in love.

Those words by Esther Hicks are changing my life. My friend, Meg, gave me a CD called "The Power of Emotions." I'm wearing it out listening to it.

Hicks says that life is the river that we're all in. The river never stops and it's never going to stop. You can grab your paddle and try to row upstream, but you won't get far for all that struggling. Best thing to do is relax and go downstream.

"Nothing you want is upstream," she said. Those words made me laugh out loud. So many times I set out to combat something, to win, to force, to resist. I expend lots of mental, emotional and physical energy fighting the current of life.

I know better. I've been whitewater rafting a number of times and every time, I've fallen in the river. The guides always tell you, if you fall in DON'T RESIST THE RIVER. The river will always win. It is always stronger. Just tuck your head in, point your toes downstream and enjoy the ride. 

Practice it. Every time you get a negative thought, a yucky emotion, a tight fist feeling in your forehead, a sick feeling in your gut, instead of grabbing an oar and battling the boss, the colleague, the spouse, the diagnosis, the guy in the SUV in front of you, let go. The flow will carry you along.

Life is a trip. Enjoy the ride. 

"Retard," he yelled at Coty.

If Coty could have jumped out of his wheelchair, Gino would have been hurting that day. Coty has cerebral palsy and absolutely hates the word retard.

He and Gino are now great friends. What happened? A teacher transformed their relationship. She wrote a play about that awful moment. The two teens star in it this weekend. 

You can read more about it in today's Plain Dealer.

We need more teachers like Lauren Persons, teachers who are willing to creatively handle problems, who take the time to turn an ugly moment into a teachable moment in a way that invites, not forces, students to become their best selves.

I met her in Cincinnati this past weekend at a retreat I gave at the United Methodist Church Armstrong Chapel. Pat lost her husband in 2009. They were married 59 years. Instead of lamenting the loss, she celebrates the life they shared and the friends who saw her through the loss.

"I could feel God's arms around me giving me a hug," she said.

She put her house up for sale and the first person who looked at it offered her more than she wanted. She held a garage sale. She sold an old toy from the attic. The person who bought it returned days later and gave her an envelope of cash. He sold the toy on eBay for so much money that he wanted to give the money to her. She declined it, but he insisted.

Then -- and this is the best part -- for her 80th birthday, Pat did something on the wild side. She went to a tattoo parlor. She got a tattoo. She now has a turtle on her back near her shoulder.

Next stop? She wants to volunteer at an orphanage in Africa. What if you get sick there, her friends asked. She figures it doesn't matter where she dies.

"The Lord is with me all the time," she told them. All the way to the finish line, which is nowhere in sight.

Or try out the Wonder Dog, a half-pound hot dog that comes with up to 40 toppings including peanut butter and jelly.

The most extreme food of all is the Nice 2 Meat You Burger that weighs 1 1/4 pound and comes with a half-pound hot dog and a quarter-pound of bacon.

I hope they have defibrillators in the dugout.

It makes me cringe to think of kids watching mom or dad or the guy next to them eating this. We wonder why more and more kids are obese. Wednesday at 7 p.m. EST on "The Regina Brett Show" on WKSU 89.7 FM, we're talking about how to create healthy children. You can listen by podcast or join the show by calling in at 888-957-8897.

I'm all for "take me out to the ballpark" and peanuts and Cracker Jack, but with a menu like the above, the family might have take a detour to the cardiac care unit.

The mundane, the necessary and the sad, according to Bob Bateman, a lieutenant colonel in the Army who is deployed to Afghanistan.

He wrote about packing day in The Plain Dealer on Sunday:

"Your helmet and body armor are in there, ammo pouches and tourniquet and blood clotting bandages, a camelback and the things you need to keep your weapon clean. You toss in some uniforms, lots of underwear and a huge number of socks.

"Then the professional things you need for your job -- things that are not on the private's packing list, but that you need to do your job just as clearly as he needs some specific things to be a rifleman or a machine gunner. You pack those, too.

"And then there is that last little space. You pack yourself in there."

It's a moving essay that reminded me of Tim O'Brien's packing list in the book, "The Things We Carried."

O'Brien wrote about what they carried when they left and once they were at war:

"They shared the weight of memory. They took up what others could no longer bear, Often, they carried each other, the wounded or weak. They carried infections. They carried chess sets, basketballs, Vietnamese English dictionaries, insignia of rank, Bronze Stars and Purple Hearts, plastic cards imprinted with the Code of Conduct. They carried diseases, among them malaria and dysentery. They carried lice and ringworm and leeches and paddy algae and various rots and molds. They carried the land itself. Vietnam, the place, the sod -a powdery orange-red dust that covered their boots and fatigues and faces. They carried the sky. The whole atmosphere, they carried it, the humidity, the monsoons, the stink of fungus and decay, all of it, they carried gravity.

"For the most part they carried themselves with poise, a kind of dignity. Now and then, however, there were times of panic, when they squealed or wanted to squeal but couldn't. When they twitched and made moaning sounds and covered their heads and said Dear Jesus and flopped around on the earth and fired their weapons blindly and cringed and sobbed and begged for the noise to stop and went wild and made stupid promises to themselves and to God and to their mothers and fathers, hoping not to die.

"They carried all the emotional baggage of men who might die. Grief, terror, love, longing -these were intangibles, but the intangibles had their own mass and specific gravity, they had tangible weight. They carried shameful memories. They carried the common secret of cowardice barely restrained, the instinct to run or freeze or hide, and in many respects this was the heaviest burden of all, for it could never be put down, it required perfect balance and perfect posture. They carried their reputations. They carried the soldier's greatest fear, which was the fear of blushing. Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to"

 To all those at war and their loved ones left behind, we carry you in our hearts. Be safe and Godspeed.

What strong women inspire you?

I just saw a movie called, "With Love, From the Age of Reason" at the Cleveland International Film Festival. It comes from France and Belgium. It's the fictional story of Margaret, a Type A+ businesswoman who sells global-warming power to the Chinese but is losing her inner power.

She keeps a drawer full of photos of powerful women to give her courage. It works. When a woman in the office challenges her and snaps, "Do you want my job?" Margaret answers, "No. I'm aiming much higher."

You gotta love that kind of spunk.

Margaret ends up getting a pile of letters from herself. When she was 7 she wrote herself letters and had them mailed to herself on her 40th birthday. The letters take her back to her childhood, take her deep within to the child still alive in her and helps her discover who she really wants to be.

The message of the movie?

Become who you are.

The good thing is, their home never looked cleaner. With open houses every few days, the table shines, the floor sparkles, the place looks like they evicted the toddler. Until he gets home after each open house and dumps his trains and trucks on the couch.

Another good thing, they come over here during the open houses so I get more grandbaby time.

So how do you sell a house in this market? I learned these tips from my guests on "The Regina Brett Show" on WKSU 89.7 last night:

See your house through the eyes of the buyers. Add some curb appeal, plants, a coat of paint on the porch, fix the mail box that's hanging, hang a wreath on the door.

Smell your house through their noses. If you have a cat or dog, light some candles, spray some Fabreeze on the furniture.

Add lighting, declutter, paint the walls neutral but interesting colors.

Connect with the buyer's emotions. They are looking for a home, not a house. Set the table, dress up the bedrooms with fluffy pillows, make the bathroom look like a spa.

You might like it so much you decide to stay.

A 9.0 earthquake.

A tsunami.

A nuclear nightmare that hasn't ended.

Reader Izumi Sugiyama from Japan sent me this email soon after the quake hit:

"Dear Regina I am sending this mail from Japan. You know we are in catastlophy. I am living Yokohama where is near Tokyo. Everyday many earthquake and TV and news give us scary. People is chacing foods, water and baterry over their capacity.

My friends and I am keeping touch strongly. I bought your book Japnese version last week before the earthquake. I am very scary to sleep, I think if big earthquake comes when I am sleeping.

We Japanese know how scary big earthqacke. I am reading your book when I go to bed. It give me the feeling of peaceful. Thanks of your book, I can sleep. Thank you. If possible, please pray for Japan. Many people died, and many people will be died. Our life totally changed. Your book give me the hope present time."

The people of Japan need our prayers and our support. There are many ways to send help. Here are a few:

American Red Cross

 Doctors Without Borders

 Save the Children

 Americares

 When people ask, Where is God in the midst of such a tragedy? The answer is, in each of us. Do whatever you can to offer hope.

"My brother lost his battle to cancer when he was just 24. Watching him, being near him, and seeing him was the most horrible experience I have ever had. Yet, I tried to take every second I had with him and cherish it.

He would talk to us, share his stories, and I learned that he lived more by the time he was 24 than I did -- even now, at 32. He passed away and he has inspired me to live life. Little did I know how hard that was going to be for me.

I ended up in grief therapy because I couldn't even pick my self up in the morning and I had no strength or courage like I told him I would have. I just finished reading your book today. I laughed, I cried and I had a lot of 'ah-ha!' moments. I swear you wrote this book for me!

Since my brother passed away, I tried reading many self help books on overcoming grief. What I learned from your book is -- reading about it will get me nowhere -- and fast! I have to do, see, and live. My brother inspired me to go back to school and get my degree. I have always wanted that for me and never had the courage - because I am like you, I would sit on the sidelines and watch life go past instead of getting 'messy' in life.

I will graduate with my BS in Social Psychology this May and begin Grad school in the fall. I would like to become a bereavement counselor and help those who are suffering and give back to others what others have been so wonderful at offering myself and my brother.

I saw so much of me in your book.  Out of the MANY things I will take from this book, life lesson # 42, on page 193 was my most inspirational moment. 'When you finally let go of the person you used to be, you get to discover the person you are now and the person you want to become'

For a very long time, I clung to my past because it was what I knew. The future holds such uncertainty, and I have no control in that. My therapist told me that it is amazing how much more control we have, when we learn to let go of the control we thought we had.

Your book gave me hope, and some lessons to really live by. I wish you all the best in living in the 'messy' world that is out there for you! I'm sure there is a whole lot of mess for me to get myself into! Now off to work to begin living to person 'I' was meant to be."

Asher walked around saying, "Ather birthday. Ather is 2!" then held up five fingers. Guess counting comes a little later in life.

His mom made him a John Deere tractor cake. The icing on the tires (cupcakes) was so black we were all afraid to eat it. She made it so authentic, she crumbled brown crumbs on the tires to look like dirt. Asher wanted to play with the cake and wouldn't take a bite.

He's at the age where he loves everything equally. He treasures every book and orders, "Read." Every truck, and orders, "Play." Not a bad way to spend your days reading and playing.

In the two years he's made me a grandma, it's been a real joy. He's taught me to be present in this moment, nowhere else. Hope we get to stay in that moment together for a long time.

How is it I still feel 25 on the inside?

I used to call my daughter every birthday morning at 6:21 a.m. to replay the moment of her birth. This year I let her sleep in. But I thought about that moment she was born, when I first met her and saw those big blue eyes scanning my face, asking, "Are you my mother?"

When you give birth to a child you give birth to yourself. You are  a new creation, a mother. It's the greatest job in the world, until your baby has her own baby and you become a grandmother.

Pure joy. That's the only word that fits. For my daughter's birthday, my grandson had a sleepover here. He's pure boy. He's already pulled the heads off his mom's old Barbie dolls. We spent hours on the floor digging pretend dirt -- Rice Krispies -- into dump trucks and reading about Pooh and Piglet looking for Woozles.

You may have to get older, but you never have to grow up.

I love everything about it. The gowns. The speeches. The celeb sitings. The movie clips. The winners. The moments.

Movies matter. Think about all the ones that shaped you. In my Plain Dealer column, I wrote about movies that remind you what's important in life. Here are 25 movies that did it for me:

1. "The Great Escape." It's amazing what can be done in the worst circumstances when you work together.

2. "Field of Dreams." A catch with Dad matters no matter how old you get.

3. "The Shawshank Redemption." Hope is the one thing no one can take from you.

4. "The Mission." Forgiving others has the power to set you free.

5. "The Wizard of Oz." There's no place like home, and it's right here. Click your heels and claim it.

6. "Big." You have to grow old, but you don't have to grow up.

7. "Apollo 13." When things are at their worst, it could actually be your finest hour. With a roll of duct tape and some imagination, you can fix anything.

8. "Singin' in the Rain." As long as there is a song in your heart, it's never a cloudy day.

9. "To Kill a Mockingbird." Even in a world that is unfair and unjust, nobility still matters.

10. "Glory." True power comes from the inside and can never be taken from you.

11. "All About Eve." Love trumps fame.

12. "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?" Your family is important; so is knowing when to hold on to them and when to let go.

13. "The Elephant Man." We're all beautiful on the inside.

14. "To Sir, With Love." A teacher can shape you for the rest of your life.

15. "When Harry Met Sally." If you leave your wedding without your best friend, you married the wrong person.

16. "Dead Man Walking." Be the face of love for another.

17. "Citizen Kane." Your childhood shapes you forever.

18. "Chariots of Fire." It doesn't matter if you fall, it matters how fast you rise from the fall.

19. "Defending Your Life." Fear could be the greatest sin of all, the stumbling block that keeps you from experiencing heaven on earth.

20. "Schindler's List." One person can make all the difference in the world.

21. "Dead Poet's Society." Seize the day. Live deeply and fully this moment.

22. "Saving Private Ryan." The ultimate act of love is to lay down your life for someone you don't even know.

23. "Parenthood." Life is messy and one bumpy ride. Hop on the roller coaster anyway. The merry-go-round is for sissies.

24. "City Slickers." Only one thing matters. Find out what it is, and you'll never lose your smile.

25. "Lilies of the Field." Holiness abides in us all. Amen.

What would you put in your top 25?

How can you get more out of your job without feeling drained at the end of every day?

Tonight on "The Regina Brett Show" we're talking to the co-founders of Heart to Heart Communications. Larry Vuillemin turned his life around after having a stroke at age 35. Father Norm Douglas talks about how to stay true to your purpose and mission at work. Together they're training leaders and co-workers to have a purpose-driven life.

Corry Devin from The Energy Project in NYC talks about the "Take Back Your Lunch" program and tips on how to get re-energized every day before, during and after work.

Call in during the show at 888-957-8897 or email regina@wksu.org and join our conversation.

What are you doing to feel fulfilled at work?

The average grade of black students is a C +. The average grade of white students is a B+.

What do we do to close the race gap?

Ron Ferguson, a former Clevelander, has become the guru on the gap. His tips?

Hire leaders who pair passion and competence, a sense of urgency and possibility.

Empower teachers, don't just criticize them.

Stop preaching at parents and give them tools to do a better job.

Talk to your children about ideas. Help them become thinkers. Celebrate knowledge.

Read, read, read. Read in front of your kids. Read to your kids. Read around your kids.

Turn off the TV.

Churches, employers, the media, retail outlets, sports teames, everyone needs to send the message that education matters.

Decide to be optimistic.

My favorite quote that Ron shared: "People who say it cannot be done should stay out of the way of people who are doing it."

She's all too familiar with mental illness. She knows what it's like to be called the monster's mother. Her son, who has schizophrenia, killed a Cleveland Heights police officer.

Tonight on "The Regina Brett Show" on WKSU 89.7 FM, Jeanette shares her journey. We also have Terry Russell, the head of the National Alliance on Mental Illness, psychiatrist Todd Ivan and Dr. John Clarke and his son Daniel, who has schizophrenia.

Are we doing enough to help those with mental illness? What more should we do?

Call in live during the show from 7 pm to 8 pm EST at 888-957-8897 or email regina@wksu.org

One nun in grade school gave me an F and wrote on my paper, "Chicken Scratch."  It's only gotten worse over time as I write faster to keep up in interviews.

People told me I was destined to be a doctor, since no one can read a doctor's penmanship.

Who needs handwriting these days? We communicate in texts and emails. It could become obsolete. Not for me. There's nothing like handwriting in a journal, feeling your fingers around a pen flying across a blank page. My dad's hands were stained from tar and paint from his roofing work, mine are stained by ink.

Tonight on "The Regina Brett Show" at 7 p.m. we're talking about handwriting. Guests include Virgina Berninger, Michael Sull and Margaret Shepherd.  Join us during the show at 888-957-8897 or email regina@wksu.org

You'll also get tips on how to write a love letter to your valentine, which sure beats sending a text. 

A reader just sent this email:

"The little girl in me, the eleven year old one, needs healing, love and attention. Lots of all of those. My dad left home when I was 11; it took him 35 years to apologize for the selfish choice he made, for how we suffered emotionally as a result, but hearing his words just this week helped heal the wound a bit.

"And reading what you said about 'caring for that child' made me realize it's ok to indulge these feelings and to take care of me. Thank you for not ever giving up, for taking the time to share, for learning to be true to you."

How sad it took 35 years to apologize, but what a gift to finally hear those words. It's never too late to heal the people you hurt.

Unlike most of America, we taped the game and fast-forwarded through the game to watch all the commercials. Not many great ones this year, but a few memorable ones.

My favorite? The commercial for Chrysler 200 "imported from Detroit."

A lovely view of a city that gets dissed like Cleveland does too often. The commercial made sure we knew, This is not New York City, the Windy City, Sin City and it's no one's Emerald City.

But boy, did that commercial make Detroit shine like the rare gem it is. Detroit is a lot like Cleveland, so much beauty amid the grit that most people can't look past. Both towns have been through hell and back again, both have stunning cultural events, architectural wonders and people who offer their breathtaking talents to breathe new life into the city every day.

Kudos to Chrysler for honoring the people and the place, not just the car.

That's where the women's shelter was located, on Payne Avenue in Cleveland. She was a piano prodigy who might have ended up at Carnegie Hall but schizophrenia derailed her life.

She lost her marriage, her home, her daughters. But she ended up blessing all the women at the shelter, just by her presence, by surviving so many years on the street.

Her daughter, Mira Bartok, wrote a lovely book "The Memory Palace" about their journey that zigged and zagged, as most life journeys do. 

You can read about Norma in today's Plain Dealer. I love the words spoken at her memorial:

"If you want to get attention, whisper. Miss Norma had a life of whispering. She taught me to dismiss the noise. Pay attention to what really matters."

What matters might not be in the noise, but in the quiet surrounding it.

I had a friend who took her life. Jodi was a beautiful woman I looked up to and admired. She fought an addiction and it finally won. My cousin's daughter, Keely, took her life at 16. She struggled with bipolar disorder. I didn't know that until the funeral.

A reader just sent me this email: 

"Dear Regina, I thank you for the book God Never Blinks. Since my son committed suicide in 2007 my soul has been lost and lonely. Somehow your book touched me and helped me feel hope. Even though I know as a parent I did everything I could for my son, I still feel shame and sadness that I could not "save" him. Thank you for putting my prayers on paper."

There's so much we don't understand about the brain and the heart. The sadness of losing someone will remain, but the shame doesn't have to. Most people who take their lives suffer from a mental illness the world can't see. 

When Keely killed herself, at first I felt angry. I said it would have been easier if she had died from a disease. My sister gently reminded me, "She did."

Curly in the movie  "City Slickers" said it's one thing, but never revealed it. You have to find it on your own.

An old Jesuit priest told me it's to love. At the end of the day, you ask yourself: Did you love?

I think it's a bunch of things. Having no regrets. Making peace with dandelions.Showing up early. Showing up with flowers. Reading the funny pages. Forgetting what you were mad about. A squeaky porch swing.

The secret of life is driving with the top down. Loving the reflection in the mirror. Knowing when to let go. Holding a baby. Laughing when you're happy. Crying when you're sad. Returning what you borrowed. Honoring your wedding vows. Getting your sillies out. Rolling down hills...

The secret of life? It's all around us. Right here, right now.

My head is swimming from all the fingerpointing, pundits opining and blame going around.

I don't know who is at fault. It's hard to blame anyone but the shooter when you see his picture on the front page of the New York Times. He looks like a young man who has a serious mental illness.

Right now, instead of blaming anyone or anything, I hope we can pause, take a breath and be more mindful of the people around us. The bruised and wounded who stand out in classrooms, who speak out in ways that cry out for help on Facebook, who are broken in some way that will break others if left untreated.

Perhaps those of us who are blessed with better mental health can be more mindful of what we put in the greater world around us. What can it hurt to see this as a call for compassion?

Clutter is anything that isn't useful, beautiful or life enhancing. The Pez collection your kids neglect to keep in their rooms. The carburetor parts on the dining room table. The sewing project that has taken over three spare rooms.

The FLY Lady, Marla Cilley, was on my show this week and gave great tips for de-cluttering your house, which is to say, your life. We also had Barb Tako, author of Clutter Clearing Choices on "The Regina Brett Show" to talk about how to declutter from season to season.

Here are some of their tips:

To declutter a desk, remove everything into boxes, then start at the center of the desk. Work on it six inches at a time.

Place paperwork in labeled baskets if you need to see it to remember it's there.

Get a shredder. Donate the shreds to the Humane Society for pet bedding.

In the dining room, once the table is clear, set it for dinner. Keep it set every time and it won't collect clutter.

Always shine the kitchen sink before bed so you wake up to one glorious clean area.

Clutter attracts clutter. Try the "27 Fling Boogie." Marla advises this: walk around with a garbage bag and, as fast as you can, toss in 27 items. You can't stop to look in. Just keep moving. Then take an empty box and walk through the house filling it with things to donate. When you are done, take it to the car. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO RESCUE THESE ITEMS.

Then put your house on a diet. If you bring in five items, you release five items. Both you and everyone in the house will feel lighter.

My aunt Kate continues to amaze me. She's in her 90s and is always reading the latest New York Times best seller. She knows what all of her 50 nieces and nephews are doing, what cities they're in, what jobs they hold, etc.

She keeps her mind going, even though her body has slowed down.

Today I wrote a column about others who can show us how to age. People like book store owner Jane Kessler, who turns 90 this year, and mystery writer Les Roberts, who is still cranking out books in his 70s.

Their tips?

Don't sit back in the rocking chair. Sit on boards of businesses and non-profits. Stay involved and engaged in the world. Work part time. Run for office. Volunteer.

Add new people in your life as you lose old friends. Discover dating. You're never too old to fall in love.

Keep learning. Read books. Take a class. Go to art shows, concerts, lectures.

Get involved with young people. Learn the latest technology. Become curious about what you don't know. Keep moving, even if it's slower. Walk. Take yoga classes. Try Pilates.

Accept your limits. Adapt and find a new purpose.

Good advice for all ages.

My grandson has become my greatest teacher. He's only 19 months old, but constantly shows me how to live with more awe and joy.

In today's Plain Dealer I wrote about some of the things he has taught me: Say no like you mean it. Savor the small stuff. Pause in the presence of beauty. Use your words.

Get your sillies out. Before bed, his parents tell him, "Get your sillies out" and he convulses with laughter. He sticks his tongue out, shakes his head, throws his hands in the air and runs around in circles. He releases all the joy in him and makes room for more.

What a great way to end every day.

I got mine off to a great start by releasing everything I didn't want to carry into the new year. I wanted to leave behind the old year and any resentments or grudges.

The last day of the year, I took some quiet time and reflected on the people in my life. There were a few relationships that seemed a bit broken, some that needed repaired and some that needed to be released for good, for both of us to grow in new ways.

I jotted down the names of ten or so people on ten separate index cards. On each card, I wrote: I release ____ and tell a new story. Then I wrote on a new card, their name and the new story. Instead of so and so done me wrong, so and so taught me a valuable life lesson.

Then I took the cards of release and burned them, and said goodbye to the old story of having been wounded.

Too often we have one bad story we velcro onto a person and we won't let go of it. I decided to release each individual and the old story I told of how they hurt me. No more victims, no more villains. The new year has a clean slate for new stories -- with happy endings for all of us.

The media will bombard us with timelines of the great events from the past year as we say goodbye. For me, the year is more about the small, precious moments that land on the heart, not the big events that end up on the timeline.

What was your best moment of 2010? All mine included a little guy named Asher. He's my baby Buddha. My grandson is the happiest person I know. 

When I get to tuck him in, we snuggle and he'll look up at me and say, "Sing." So I sing. Which touches me deeply since he calls me "Gita" which means "song."

Then I gently put him in the crib and whisper to him, "Gita loves Asher, Poppa loves Asher, Mommy loves Asher, Daddy loves Asher, everybody loves Asher." Then he'll look up with sleepy eyes and smile and say, "Yay!" It melts my heart every time.

I like to spend a few hours in quiet reflection on the year past, the gains, the losses, the loose ends that need tied up, the burdens that need to be released, the joys that call to be savored, that point the way, like a compass needle, to the future.

Then I reflect on the clean slate before me. What do I want to write on it? I try to see myself a year from now, at the end of 2011, and ask: What would I like to have accomplished? What kind of meaning did I add to the world around me? What difference did I make in the lives of others?

If you picked a word for the new year, what would it be?

What do you want to do with your brand new magical year?

I'm giving myself a snow day, with permission not to drive anywhere I don't have to go.

It's almost a blizzard outside, 18 degrees but minus 1 with the windchill. You can't see the roads and if you can, wait three minutes and you can't. Lake Effect snow is supposed to give us a foot of the white stuff by Wednesday.

It's beautiful to watch if you're snug indoors. My grandson calls it, "No, no." He's afraid to walk in it this year. Probably because it comes up to his little knees. Hope to get him out sledding once the temperature is a respectable 25 or more.

His mom says he won't wear his new snow boots. He insists on wearing the green frog rain boots because they have a face. I've looked everywhere for snow boots that look fun, but can't find any. Guess the snow is supposed to be fun enough for a kid.

Charlie Brown is fond of saying that in the Peanuts comic strip whenever he's frustrated. But is there really such a thing as good grief?

Wednesday on "The Regina Brett Show" we're going to talk about grief and a new board game called "Doggone Grief." It's supposed to help children and adults talk about what makes them feel sad, mad, happy or scared after they've lost someone.

Brenda Brown, director of Grief Services at Aultman Hospital, designed the game. She'll be on the show along with Dylan Phillips. He's in middle school and lost his dad last year. School counselor Matt Gagnon and Nancy Carst, the bereavement coordinator at Akron Children's Hospital, will also join us.

Call in with your questions toll free at 888-WKSU-897 or email during the show from 7 to 8 pm EST at regina@wksu.org

Holidays can be tough when you've lost someone you love. We hope the show will ease some of the pain.

It made me think of the things I loved about my dad who has been gone 11 years. Maybe it'll remind you about what you love about your dad.

Here's Pat's list:

REASONS WHY WE LOVE DAD: 

1. Dad is a great slow story teller.

2. Dad has a good sense of money management and gives good advice.

3. Our favorite nick name for you is Old Yeller and Smiley.

4. Now when he yells at us we can ignore him and go home.

5. Dad helped us realize that saving our money brings big dreams.

6. Dad truly cares for all of us.

7. Dad was a dedicated little league football coach for us on the Sharonville Jets.

8. Dad would travel to many states to watch us play football and basketball.

9. Dad always remembers special occasions with a Hallmark card and gift.

10. Dad never complained about driving me to my bus stop every day in high school.

11. Dad always honks his horn when he sees a lady bending over in her yard.

12. Dad would jump out and scare us when we watched the Cool Ghoul as kids.

13. Dad can make great malts, eggnog and whiskey sours.

14. Dad had the patience to teach me how to drive a stick shift.

15. Dad rode with me in a horse and buggy on my wedding day. I loved it.

16. Dad always endured my ballet recitals.

17. Dad saved money and sold stock so we could all go to college if we wanted.

18. Dad always welcomed our friends and family into our home.

19. Dad would unlock the door late at night and never ask us why we had the paper.

20. Dad was a great Santa Claus for years and years -- costume and all.

21. Dad thanks for wiping our noses all those years.

22. Dad prays for us when we need prayers and even when we don’t need them.

23. Dad accepted us even when we behaved at our worst.

24. Dad married Mom for 57 years through good times and bad.

25. Dad introduced us to Camelot, Tony Bennett and Robert Goulet.

26. Dad cooked us Pink mashed potatoes when Mom was gone for dinner.

27. Dad loved to call my husband by the wrong name “Clem Kadilittlehopper and Meathead.” The kids were meatballs.

28. Dad got us hooked on season tickets to the Bengal’s games.

29. Dad still attends those Bengal’s games and tail gates like a trooper.

30. Dad has a very loud voice range especially when he is angry. It is loud and clear, and sometimes funny.

31. Dad enlightened our life with the many vacation trips to Massachusetts for many years.

32. Dad always made family time a high priority.

33. Dad encouraged family values and togetherness always.

34. Dad made “pull my finger” famous in our family.

35. Dad was able to survive a flaxseed poisoning attempt by Mom and not complain about it.

36. When Dad could get away with it, he would wear his slippers to church.

37. Dad came up with the phrase “Energy Shower”. It was sharing a shower with the one you love to conserve water.

38. Dad generously bought many breakfasts on Sunday mornings at Bob Evans.

39. Dad always blesses the family Christmas tree every Christmas Eve.

40. I love when Grampy holds my hand. His hands are warm and soft.

41. Grampy always has, without fail, some sort of candy that he will sneak to you.

42. Grampy’s multiple trips to the post office each week are so cute.

43. Dad’s bark is bigger than his bite.

44. Dad has a wonderful spirit of love and generosity.

45. Dad is gentle yet strong.

46. Dad has a great passion for faith, family and friends.

47. He has always been there for us.

48. The way Grampy rubs his face and takes off his glasses when he is getting ready to tell a story.

49. I love the way Grampy sleeps in his chair with his mouth open.

50. Every time I see Grampy he has another dirty story.

51. The biggest reason why I love Grampy is because he will always be the best Grampy anyone could ask for.

52. Dad is not afraid to wear his MacArthur plaid anytime he wants.

53. When Dad picks up the restaurant tab he always acts like he is having a heart attack. 54. Dad snores like a big old bear, but we love him anyway.

55. We have fond memories of Dad wearing his Knights of Columbus suit and parading around our living room.

56. Dad always drove the beater cars, so my Mom could drive the reliable family car.

57. We love to hear about Dad’s travels which were all around the world.

58. Dad insisted on us all having chores or “yard guard” duty. This helped build our work ethics that we still use today.

59. When my son was having heart surgery, Dad was on a work trip to Germany. He called everyday for an update on his progress.

60. He loved to tell the male Grandchildren to always “Keep the mouse in the house.”

61. Dad volunteered his time to many Credit Union organizations all his life.

62. Dad has good old common sense, which is rare today.

63. Dad believes in showing up for events early not just on time. Not all his children have picked up on this trait.

64. Dad believes in his Catholic faith and attends mass every day.

65. Whenever we tried to make excuses for our actions, Dad would say, “Men Nada, Menyada” which is Spanish for Tomorrow.

66. Dad is good at math and did our taxes for a while.

67. We would not be here if he did not marry Mom.

68. Dad has many long time friends that he cherishes

69. Dad is not too dorky and fun to hang out with.

70. He is funny and sarcastic all at the same time.

71 He takes long pauses when he tells stories and does not want to be interrupted.

72 He has a favorite torn up wool sweater he wears every day. Mom tries to get rid of it, but he finds it and wears it anyway.

73. Dad is a good listener and problem solver. He organizes thoughts and puts them to paper.

74. Dad gives the best big bear hugs.

75. He coined the phrases squid, split tail and Time out.

76. He offered free opthomology appointments to an array of referees and umpires.

77. He was always looking for a flashlight when he did home projects.

78. He was always considerate to the family dog, George, by letting him run the neighborhood.

79. Dad had an eloquent way of giving the boys a birds and bees talk.

80. Dad today is your day. We all love you and Mom very much. Enjoy!

With Love, From your children, grandchildren and Sue and Dave. "

I love my family but find I need to take extra care of me when we all gather. It's easy to drift off into the people I used to be and respond to others like a 6 year old whining or a 16 year old rebelling. 

How do you stay your best self over the holidays? Too often we neglect ourselves when the holidays hit. We stop exercising, taking daily time outdoors, eating healthy and getting calming doses of solitude.

The Plain Dealer offered some good tips today in a story by Diane Suchetka and Evelyn Theiss:

Step back and observe the chaos. Extract yourself and just watch and appreciate the humor and survival skills others use.

Have an escape plan ready. Volunteer to run out for ice, return library books, walk the dog.

Don't take anything personally.

Skip the gossip and the 100-year-old stories about who did what to whom way back when.

Lower your expectations. My goal? Aim for completion, not perfection.

Phone a friend. Have a 9-1-1 list of emergency friends who can restore you to sanity.

Take care of you. The care and feeding of you is 100 percent up to you, no one else.

My secret? Have a built in reward for you that no one else is in charge of and no one can take away. Bring a book of poetry you love and sneak off to reboot. Pack a favorite treat that you squirrel away by yourself to enjoy. I find that when I take care of me, I don't put that burden on anyone else and everyone ends up a lot happier.

A bit thanks to everyone who forward my 50 life lessons to aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews and friends all over the globe.

The book is being published in 18 countries -- Thailand, Taiwan, China, Canada, Japan, Korea, Poland, Portugal, Sweden, Brazil, Lithuania, Bulgaria, Russia, Latvia, the United Kingdom, the Czech Republic, the USA and Indonesia.

I got a copy of the British version. They weren't fond of God in the title so they renamed it, "Life's Little Detours: 50 Lessons to Find and Hold onto Happiness." And the cover is blue with road signs nailed on a pole pointing the way. Wonder what the book will look like in all those other countries.

He blames the internet, all that time online searching and surfing the web.

Carr joins me on "The Regina Brett Show" tonight at 7 on WKSU 89.7. Call in with your questions or comments at 888-WKSU-897 or email live during the show at regina@wksu.org

Margot Milcetich, a meditation and yoga instructor, also joins us to talk about the importance of doing one thing at a time, and shares how to feel connected in this digital age.

How are you keeping technology from tampering with your brain?

That song by Queen started playing in my head today when I heard about the closing of the local Joseph-Beth Booksellers at Legacy Village in Greater Cleveland. What an honor to have held a book signing there where so many great authors stopped.

The parent company filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. 

Barnes & Noble is for sale and one of our local Border's shut down. Fortunately, our independent smaller stores are holding on. Appletree, Macs Backs and Visible Voice continue to draw in readers and shoppers.

It's sad to think of a world without bookstores. It always inspired me just to walk around Joseph-Beth. It's like all the authors on all those shelves spoke to you, like in movie The Dead Poets Society. Only instead of whispering, "Carpe Diem, seize the day," the authors shouted, "Seize your pen and write!"

To the winners, congrats.

To the losers, thanks for fighting the good fight.

To the voters, your job isn't over. If you voted these people in office, make sure they follow through on all those promises they made to us all.

If you didn't vote for them, make sure they follow through on all those promises they made to us all.

Win or lose, we all still live in the greatest democracy on earth. Do your part to preserve it and celebrate it.

And to those who didn't vote, you don't get to complain.

Today he wrote about his mother. He called her a Hall of Famer. She majored in unconditional love. She taught people to love, of all things, bowling.

You gotta appreciate a mom who knows the value of a strike, and gives out A's in bowling class so you don't lose the love of the game.

The Cavs beat the Celtics 95-87. The Celtics!  Yahoooooooooo!!!!!

Maybe we really can win the whole shebang without James. Wouldn't that be something to see the Cavs win it all? Ya gotta love the underdog, and we in Cleveland are barking louder than ever for our Cavs. 

The team is off to a great start. And LeBron?

The Miami Heat dream team LOST  to the Celtics on Tuesday in LeBron's big debut game.

Final score: Celtics 88 Miami 80

Go Cleveland!

Go Cavs!

He's just over a year and a half so this was his first wedding ever. When his parents wanted to get him to try on his tux, they tried to sound all excited. He thought they said, "Trucks" and got excited until he found out it was a boring article of clothing.

Turns out the tux they borrowed was too big, so I found a 2T black suit at J.C. Penneys. I had to hem the sleeves and pant legs, taking up about four inches. I found him a white dress shirt, black Buster Brown dress shoes and black and gold argyle socks. I bought two iron-on patches to sew inside the jacket, one of a fire truck and one of a dump truck, so he could flip the suit jacket open to see his trucks.

He couldn't wait to put it on when he saw the "trucks" on his "tux." He looked like a miniature GQ model. He had a ball at the reception. He had even more fun once he could ditch the "tux" for his dinosaur fleece pajamas and run around the dance floor until bedtime.

Best part of the deal? He now has a new uncle named Ted, who is like big Teddy Bear, and likes to play with trucks.

Tom Saal was a Marine lieutenant in Vietnam. He lasted four whole months before stepping on a land mine. Those four months have haunted him for 40 years. He went to Vietnam at age 21; he returned to visit this month at 65.

Joe Caley was an Army scout who worked with a dog sniffing out booby traps and possible ambushes. He was 21 and spent 365 days there until his chopper was shot out of the sky. He's 63 now and still gets jittery when he talks about that year in hell.

Tom read a poem on the show about his buddy Jack Ruggles who took his last step on Feb. 28, 1968.

"We had known each other for over a year.

Gone through OCS together, trained together,

Slept in the mud together, witnessed our first death together.

Talking on a trail together for five minutes.

"Well, we had best get back to our platoons before they wander off."

Laughter.

"I'll see you when I see you. Be safe. Be careful. Watch where you step."

More laughter, Lieutenants laugher.

That was it. No more. His last words to me.

Minutes later...Land mine...Explosion.

His last words: "Be careful. Watch where you step."

It's ironic that war has no feelings, takes no sides, doesn't care who dies.

My good friend, Jack Ruggles.

Gone in an instant."

In another poem called, "If I began" Tom wrote:

"If I began to hear, to taste, to smell, to feel

the death of the too, too young Marine lieutenant,

the tears would flow from me like the torrents

of the Spokane River which I sit watching with my daughter, Anna.

She, naively and unknowingly sitting by my side,

and telling me how happy and fulfilled she is

nursing cancer patients at a small community hospital

as an introduction to her new-found life.

And me, determined and refusing to share these intrusive thoughts

which leap in and out of my brain

as does lightning shatter the darkness of a summer storm."

My sibs rented a house on Garver Lake just north of South Bend to enjoy a weekend at Notre Dame.

What a wild time I had with 19 of us packed into one house.

My nieces and nephews wore me out. We played Twister, football, ping pong, tag, SPUD and hide and seek.They ran around wearing neon green glow stick necklaces in the dark until we got yelled at for making too much noise. Then we moved indoors and played hide and seek in the dark.

Man, I felt like a kid again and have the bruises to prove it. Who says you have to grow up?

My sibs rented a house on a lake a few miles outside of Southbend, so we're turning it into a family reunion. We're all so proud of Leah. She's made the band all four years she's been at St. Mary's. It's taken a lot of work and perserverance to play and march and practice, to work to earn money for school and to get good grades.

She's taught me a lot about going after what you love in life. She grew up in a small town and competed with kids from all over the country to get in that band. She's so humble about it. She never boasts about it, but damn, does she make us all proud.

Every day on the bus, the kids called him "Polar Bear" and refused to let him have a seat. They mocked him for being so smart and so quiet. They teased him for being overweight and wearing glasses.

One day, Andy had enough. He called his dad, told him he loved him, then walked out onto the interstate and stepped into the path of a truck. He planned it so well, he even left a note in his car apologizing to the truck driver.

Andy's dad, Nicholas, came on "The Regina Brett Show" tonight to share his story. It broke my heart. Kirk Zajac, who was one of the kids who bullied Andy on the bus, also came on the show. Kirk was devastated when he found out Andy took his life.

Kirk went to the Lehman's and confessed. Nicholas forgave him. Now they do talks together on suicide prevention and how to stop bullying. 

If you want to know more about bullying, tune into WKSU's series on Mean Kids with Vivian Goodman. It'll open your eyes, and maybe your kid's heart.

You can also read more about bullying in my column on Thursday.

The silence and solitude attracted me, that, and the writing of Thomas Merton. He is the one person whose words touch me every time.

My favorite work of his is an excerpt from "Thoughts In Solitude." They form the prayer that I keep posted in my daily planner:

"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you...."

Someone placed two rosaries on the small white simple cross that marks his grave. It looks like all the other white crosses outside of the abbey. Inside the men pray non-stop for the world, chanting ancient psalms that somehow still soothe me, along with Merton's words:

"Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with  me, and will never leave me to face my perils alone."

I'm in awe of them. In one 12-hour shift they help a mother celebrate her newborn and another mother say goodbye to a stillborn. They make the pain go away. They make you believe you can get through anything. You can read my tribute to nurses in The Plain Dealer.

When I was going to start chemo 12 years ago I had my first and only fight with a nurse. She wanted to schedule my chemo appointments and I kept trying to postpone them. I had volleyball two nights a week, three columns a week to write, and all kinds of assorted plans.

"You need to get your priorities straight," she said.

I balked then I barked at her. I was angry, not at her, at cancer. 

Of course, I  realized, she was right. Life is Priority No. 1. Everything else comes after that.

Nurses know that better than anyone.

Everyone at The Plain Dealer has to take 12 days unpaid. The cut in pay is tough for everyone, but I'd rather see everyone take a small hit than see anyone take a big hit and get laid off.

Last week I had 5 days of furlough. It was the perfect time to take off. It was the last real week of summer with temperatures in the 80s and 90s. I sat on the backyard swing and just soaked up the sun. One day I went to yoga, another day I got a massage. I could get used to not working, but then how would I pay for yoga and massages? Hmm...

I stayed up til 2 a.m. watching the movie "The Professional" and "Rudy" about the kid who wanted to play for Notre Dame.

I wasn't a total slacker. I spoke at three book signings, did a radio interview and hosted my weekly radio show on 89.7 WKSU. This week we're talking about Alzheimer's Disease. You can call in the show toll free at 888-WKSU-897. 

Our question for this week's show is: What is the book that changed your life?

Tune in on Wednesday from 7 to 8 p.m. EST and you might get a few more book title to read for your furlough time off.

What famous person would you like to interview?

Who is the most famous person you've ever written about?

The question gets asked in a variety of ways when people find out you've been a journalist for 24 years. Living in Cleveland, people wonder if you ever got to talk to LeBron James, our most famous athlete who turned into our most infamous one when he left the Cavs for the Miami Heat.

The people who inspire me most are the ordinary people living extraordinary lives. Last week at a book signing Adam Cerny showed up. "I'm Chapter 12," he yelled from the back of the crowded library. The week before that, Don Szczepanski's son -- Don's in Lesson 50 --- came to a book signing. Both Don and Adam left an imprint on my heart.

Fame is highly overrated. Instead of wanting to be famous, I'd rather be memorable. The person who loved me most growing up was my gramma. She'd stand in her driveway and wave until our car got so far away she faded from view. I'll never forget that wave.

Another memorable person was the caboose man. We lived by the railroad tracks growing up, and the train came by during dinner. We'd run to the backyard to wave to the train and the caboose man would throw us candy. We'd scramble for the goodies, then wave and wave, like my grandma did, until the train was out of sight.

She tells the story of the Oberlin mom who took photos of her daughter, including some of the child naked in the shower. The mom, Cynthia Stewart, was arrested and charged. At the time her daughter, Nora, was 8.

I hope to have an interesting discussion about what the rights of parents and children are when it comes to private photos, what's appropriate and what isn't when it come to photographing your children, how the community of Oberlin responded to the incident and what the new concerns are regarding photos of children that go out by email and cell phones.

You can call in and ask a question or share a comment from 7 p.m. to 8 p.m. EST on Wednesday at 888-WKSU-897. You can listen to us live at 89.7 FM or on the podcast at www.wksu.org. And you can email us during the show at regina@wksu.org

I came from a family of 11. Back when we were kids, 1 to 4 kids was a small family, 5 to 8 was mid-sized and beyond that was a large family.

Now most people have no kids or one or two. 

I met the Schmitt's in 1992 when I wrote a magazine story on them. I had a blast with their kids. We played Old Maid non-stop, so tonight when Bob saw me, he gave me a deck of Old Maid cards. One was sticking out. Of course, it was the Old Maid, but he had taped a photo of me over her face. How funny.

They're loving parents whose kids are now 22 to 42. Two of them called during the show. When their son Teddy was 3, he sat at the kitchen table eating Kix cereal. His mom asked him, "Teddy, what are Kix made from?"

"Kittens," he said, then kept eating. Why not, he figured, since applesauce came from apples. You gotta love kids.

We end each show with a question of the week. This week the question is:

Who is your favorite fictional family? For me, it's either the Waltons or The Simpsons.

How about you?

I felt like a kid on Christmas Eve, all the waiting and anticipation and excitement made my heart pound. The topic was close to my heart, about as close as you can get, since I have no breasts.

We talked about hope for those with breast cancer. Our first guest was Nancy Brinker, who made a promise to her dying sister, Susan, which led to the creation of the Susan G. Komen Foundation. That promise has raised $1.5 billion dollars for breast cancer research and education. 

Sophie Sureau, who heads up the northeast Ohio Komen affiliate joined us. So did Dr. Lissa McKinley, whose breast cancer spread to her bones. Lissa's blog is full of hope in the poetry she writes and collects.

The team at WKSU was amazing, especially producer Sarah Eisler Taylor and technical guru Kabir Bhatia. Hope you listen in every Wednesday at 7 p.m. EST.

If you have ideas for future shows, send them along. 

Some people, when you meet them, it's like a Kodak moment. Snap! You never forget the second they stepped into your life. I met Monica at a reception at a fundraiser for the Cleveland Rape Crisis Center.

She had black hair, dark eyes, lipstick that matched her purse, shoes and fingernails, and had an energy that lit up the room. What a human sparkler. She made everyone around her feel just as bright.

Monica left Cleveland for D.C a year or so ago and started up her own company. I was sitting in a book signing at a Costco in May when her aunt stopped by and said, "Did you hear about Monica?" I hadn't.

Monica had a headache that wouldn't go away. It turned out to be brain cancer. She had to close up her business and move back to Cleveland for treatments. When they did tests, they found cancer everywhere, her brain, her spine, her abdomen, her lungs. She called me the night before brain surgery. "I haven't even lived yet," she said. "I'm only 38."

From May til today, she fought like hell to live. She bounced back from brain surgery, from chemo, from brain radiation, from physical therapy  to walk again, from every side effect and set back cancer threw at her.

It's so sad to lose someone who was such a light in this world, and in mine. Monica always greeted me with, "Hi, doll." She's the only one in the world who called me doll. She made me feel so special. That was one of her superpowers. To make others feel special.

She always reminded me to "carry as you climb." Bring others with you up the ladder. Share the journey.

Thank you, Monica, for sharing yours. 

She was Slovak, spoke broken English and always wore an apron, the full-sized kind that covered her dress. She also wore support stockings that ended up rolled up in a donut around her calves. Her long gray hair was twisted in a bun and fastened with dozens of pins shaped like skinny U's.

Looking back, her heart was my home. I always felt most loved around her and in that house on the farm. She taught me how to plant green beans and water them from the rain barrel. She taught me how to color Easter eggs with wax designs. She crocheted doilies and left them to us as her legacy. But her real legacy I discovered the other day when my grandbaby came to visit.

Asher is only 1 1/2, but when he came to my house after not being here for two weeks, he ran to the living room, rested his head on the couch and sighed. Then he ran over to the big chair where I read to him, rested his head on the cushion and sighed. Then he ran to the shelf where I display all his books, grabbed each one and said, "Wow! Wow! Wow!"

I hope my house, and my heart, feel like home to him.

I took my grandson to his first one on Saturday. We drove out to the Randolph Fair in Portage County. I've been going ever since I was a kid when my dad took us. Once, my dad even paid for us to get a real helicopter ride there. It must have cost him a fortune. I'll never forget how cool it was to be airborne for the first time in my life.

The people at a fair seem so real, so down to earth, so kind and friendly. It's like going back in time. My grandson loved the bright ribbons displayed for prize hogs, giant pumpkins and miniature flower arrangements.

I strolled him through all the barns. He got to see, touch and smell cows, horses, rabbits, goats, sheep and roosters up close. He looked perplexed in the swine barn. It could be the smell, or the fact that those little piggies aren't quite as cute as they look in his picture books.  Or maybe he wondered how in the world those kids could be sleeping in the straw alongside their prize animals.

My grandson is a country boy at heart. He sat on a John Deere like he was ready to plow the north 40. Every time a tractor drove by, he squealed louder than the pigs.  

All of these kids are HIV positive or have AIDS. Kevin told me there are about 200 orphanages in Phnom Penh. How sad.

Kevin is in Cleveland to celebrate the wedding of a family member and to celebrate his dad's 80th birthday. He said when the kids found out he was leaving for 9 days, they held a raffle to see who would get to ride to the airport with him to say goodbye. Such small joys.

Here are a few recent emails:

“Thank you for one of the best lines ever: 'Throw your body against the door to keep the demons from advancing and stay put until they go away.' And they do go away….which took me the better part of 50 years to learn, and I’m still learning. Thank you for your consistent insight and compassion. I’ll memorize that line and press play in my head when I need it.” - Gerry

“When I was 16, I got pregnant and married the father of my child. At the age of 17, I was a wife, mother and high school dropout. I felt my life would never be different. I loved my husband and child more than life itself, but I had so many passions, desires, hopes and dreams.

“Over the course of the next 20 years, I had another child and worked as a teaching assistant at a local school. Three years ago, I walked across the stage at a four-year university and was handed the diploma I worked so hard for. Persistence had paid off for me.

"When I read your book, I felt like some of the chapters were written just for me. Wow! I laughed, I smiled, I cried and I woke up. I woke up to the 'rut' I have found myself in and looked in the mirror to see more possibilities than I could have ever imagined.

“My college degree was just the beginning of my journey. Not the end of something I had always wanted. Your book is the most inspiring book (next to the Bible) I have ever read. I cannot begin to tell you how 'fired up' I am about the life I was given. I am a gift to this world, to my family, to God and to myself. Thank you for letting me see things from your perspective. My life will never be the same because of you. I read the book within a day and a half. (I had to stop to sleep!). This book should be presented to every single high school graduate when they walk across the state. It is life changing.” – Ginger

“I just wanted to thank you for writing God Never Blinks. This book has helped me work through a lot of stuff over the last few months. The girl of my dreams left me after a long relationship deciding she couldn't handle my faith. It devastated me for quite a while. Life lost all meaning and I couldn't find joy in any activities. I spent a long time going through as many books as I could get my hands on, and yours was sitting on a shelf and caught my eye while walking through a book store. It has inspired me and helped move me to a place of acceptance and that life will move on and I will not only come out ok but will thrive again.

"Looking at what other people have gone through with situation so much larger than what I have had to deal with, and coming out happier with full and meaningful lives helped me through some tough days. I have also gained a desire for writing and helping those around me and have been reaching out beyond my normal comfort zone to see what is out there. I look forward to your next book. Thank you for sharing your stories.” - Kelly

And thank you for sharing yours.

My new radio show debuts on Sept. 8. The Regina Brett Show will air every  Wednesday night on  WKSU 89.7 FM, Northeast Ohio's NPR affiliate. It will be an hour-long call-in show every Wednesday at 7 p.m. I hope you'll join me every week. 

Here's the official announcement:

Most people don’t go to bed thinking about Senate bills or Supreme Court appointments or the politics in China or the hole in the ozone. They are important issues, but not the most pressing in the daily lives of most Americans. Instead, thoughts turn towards issues like concerns in the workplace, struggling with interpersonal relationships or being a successful parent in a new and different world.

Everyone can find themselves searching for new and better approaches when they are sidetracked by life’s detours. On Wednesday, Sept. 8 at 7 p.m., WKSU launches The Regina Brett Show, an hour-long call-in show hosted by columnist and author Regina Brett.

The weekly radio show was inspired by Brett’s book God Never Blinks: 50 Lessons for Life's Little Detours, an inspirational collection of essays and stories about the lessons that life had taught based on a popular column she wrote after turning 50.

Each show features guests with insights, tips or fresh concepts to help people create a greater life for themselves and for others. Programs will revolve around themes of life’s transitions and universal issues of home, work, community and finding a personal balance.

Listeners can call in and share their comments and concerns at 888-WKSU897 or email Letters@WKSU.org.

She didn't want any fuss, didn't even want any gifts. I suppose if you don't already own something by the time you turn 80, you don't need it.

On the drive to see her, I thought about all the birthdays she celebrated for us. All the cakes and presents she made sure her 11 children got every year, even though she grew up without any fanfare on her birthday. She once told me she had no birthday celebration until she turned 16 and her friends found out it was her birthday.

I bought her a few clothes for fall and a box of salt water taffy from the beach. We raised our glasses of sparkling lemonade in a toast "to life" and asked her what wisdom she had to share now that she was 80.

"Count your blessings," she said.

There's a greeting card that reads, "When I count my blessings, I count you twice."  When I count my blessings, I have to count my mom more than twice. She gave me life, the greatest of all gifts.

He just turned 17 months old and is a chatterbox. He can say "Up," "Aw done," "Mo peez," and "Tank oooh." Put a handful of nectarine slices on his high chair tray and he says, "Neck a reen." Give him some chunks of avocado, and he says, "Cah doh." But he won't say grammy, granny, gramma, or any other facsimile of grandma.

We've tried to trick him into it. We go around the table and say, "Say Poppa." The little guy complies. He'll name Da da, Ma ma, Luke, Ben, Joe, Adrienne (who he calls AD), pretty much everyone around the table and everything on the table. But when it comes to me, he just laughs. For a while I wondered if my name was "Ha Ha."  Not that I would mind.

He does speak the language of love that has no words. We sat on the floor playing blocks yesterday when I stood to check something in the kitchen. He grabbed my toes and wouldn't let go. He tried to pull me back to him by clinging to my toes. And when I leave, he says, "Muh!" and blows me a kiss.

One day he'll reveal who I am to him by name, but for now, his heart knows, and that's enough.

Lovely writing. It's about an old man's last days of life, and a reflection on family, love, loss and beauty.

It reads like one long poem: "The clouds halted...next fell the stars, tinkling about him like the ornaments of heaven shaken loose."

This was my favorite passage:

"And as you split frost-laced wood with numb hands, rejoice that your uncertainty is God's will and His grace toward you and that that is beautiful, and part of a greater certainty...And as the ax bites into the wood, be comforted in the fact that the ache in your heart and the confusion in your soul means that you are still alive, still human, and still open to the beauty of the world, even though you have done nothing to deserve it. And when you resent the ache in your heart, remember: You will be dead and buried soon enough."

Enjoy the ache while you are alive to have one.

A car pulled up to the house next door and a handful of people came out and stood on the sidewalk staring at the house. I couldn't help but hear them talk about whether the owner was home so they could get to see the house they grew up in.

They were too shy to go to the door and knock, so I went over and did it for them. No one was home, so they left. As they were climbing into their car, the owner of the house pulled into the driveway. I ran to the family in the car and hollered for them to come back. They did, and got a tour of their old homestead.

They say you can't go home again. Sometimes you can. It's not the same home, but if it's the house that built you, why not go back and give your thanks?

For men, the death rate fell 21 percent between 1990 and 2006.

For women, it fell 12.3 percent. We're making progress.

The bad news? We still lose 569,490 people a year to cancer in the U.S.

 My buddy Monica is fighting it right now. What an amazing spirit she has. The doctors found spots on her brain, spine, lungs and a tumor in her abdomen. She's only 38. What started out as a headache was really a brain tumor.

At her first chemo, she wore pink shoes, a gauzy white skirt, lovely blouse and a cool hat. She dressed better for chemo than I do for work. I love her attitude. She's been in the hospital for over a month and is still grateful to every nurse, doctor and orderly who stops by.

We made a list of the top 100 movies to watch while she recovers. She's blasting away, driving life into a corner and living the hell out of it. Thoreau was right. Living is so dear. 

What an amazing place the library is. Every summer I leave the library with as many books as I can carry and set out to explore the world.

Yesterday I left with 18 books. Before leaving the house, I went online and printed out the list of Pulitzer Prize winners and finalists for fiction.  Here are a few of the gems I brought home:

Gilead  by Marilynne Robinson

Tree of Smoke  by Denis Johnson

 Shakespeare's Kitchen by Lore Segal

The Echo Maker  by Richard Powers

I also grabbed Anna Quindlen's new book Every Last One and The Dubliners by James Joyce.

Thank goodness Mrs. Kent taught me speed reading at Ravenna High School. Mr. Ricco taught me to love literature in 9th grade.  What a gift a high school teacher can be to you for the rest of your life.

It was last week. I took my grandson, Asher, who is 16 months old to the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo. It's only ten bucks for adults and free for kids under 2 and the parking is free.  What a deal.

The only problem was, the animals were smarter than the humans. While we melted in the 90 degree heat, they hid in the corners of caves and in the shadows of trees. We did get to see a rhino stomping around, a bear licking his paws, sea lions frolicking in the pool and eight giraffes having lunch.

Asher was just as happy to see them as he was picking up rocks and sticks. From his viewpoint, everything in life is as mesmerizing as a giraffe.

The best moment came at the Rainforest. As soon as you enter the building, you're greeted by a giant waterfall. Asher dropped to the floor as soon as he saw it. He sat there staring, his mouth open, drooling. When you're his age, it's okay to drool when you're awed by life. I plopped down next to him, awed by his total attention to such beauty, and tried not to drool.

What an incredible journey it has been. The people at book signings have shared their stories and their wounds and made me realize how we're all hungry for the same things, for love, for peace of mind, for meaning.

Thanks for all your support and for buying the book for yourself and others. Some people have bought ten copies at a time to give out as Christmas gifts. One woman bought a copy for all her sisters, another, for all her nieces. 

Thanks, too, for your emails. Here's one that touched me:

"I just purchased your book and am totally thrilled with it. The first day I read over half of it and it seems like every idea was meant for me. I laughed and I cried.

"I lost my husband in 1974 and my son to a drunk driver in 1988. His wife was 7 months pregnant with my first grandchild. So I have seen my share of pain and suffering.

"That granddaughter had brought me more joy than I ever could have imagined. Your book had really struck my heart and it is as though God dropped it in my lap at just the right time that I needed it!! Always amazes me how much He knows about us, what we need and when. Thank you again,  Rosemary."

People like Rosemary amaze me. After so much loss, they still embrace life, and celebrate what is.

The powerful front page of The Plain Dealer summed it up in one four-letter word, but not the one most of us uttered watching the ESPN special. That word wasn't printable in a family newspaper.

LeBron James has left the building. And the city. And the team he played for these past seven years. It had to end, but we hoped it would end in a championship. But this is Cleveland, so of course it didn't. We're used to disappointments from our sports teams. They are what has made us the most resilient sports fans in the country.

We should have seen this coming, but we held on to hope. We always do.

Contrary to the photos spread across the country, we're not burning LeBron jerseys. Okay, so a tiny handful of fans did, but the majority of us just feel like we got punched in the heart. We'll get over it. We always do.

By noon, the guy who runs Nate's Deli on West 25th, where they make the best tabouli west of the Cuyahoga, said, "We're already over it." 

Goodbye, LeBron.

We'll miss you, but you might just end up missing us more.

Turns out we ended up seeing James Taylor and Carole King on Wednesday at the Q in Cleveland. The last time I saw J.T. he was at Blossom Music Center singing covers from others. We sat in the audience wishing he'd just give us the best of him.

Last night he did. The guitar never sounded better. My heart just melted like it did when I first heard him sing "You've got a friend" back in 8th grade. I played that record over and over for hours. Some nights, I played that one song over and over. It was a promise to me alone that kept me hanging on when I felt myself slipping away.

Music can heal the soul. Catch you when you fall. Lift you back up and send you soaring. Give you a hand to hold when yours is empty. My hand no longer is empty.

My husband held it all night as James sang those lovely words that are so true about my spouse, he "has the power to go where no one else can find me, yes and to silently remind me, of the happiness and good times that I know."

The good times keep getting better. If only I'd known that in 8th grade.

It seems we all have an inner roommate, a voice inside that is constantly throwing us into doubt, fear and anxiety. When you're in the shower, do you actually enjoy the water or is your roommate taunting you about the next project due at work, the weight you need to lose, the people you need to call?

"Your shower is for washing the body, not for watching the mind talk nonstop. See if you can stay conscious enough throughout the entire experience to be aware of what's going on," he writes.

I've been trying it. Man, does that roommate run my life. I've been practicing Singer's advice. When something disturbs me, I ask, "What part of me is being disturbed by this?"  It's my roommate, not me. What a relief. 

Such a powerful word. A friend asked me what it meant to me this week. How do you describe it? Is it even possible?

I consulted my copy of the Declaration of Independence. It's in the same small booklet that has a copy of the U.S. Constitution in it. As a journalist, I've carried it with me to work for two decades. It reminds to never take for granted our Bill of Rights that give us as Americans, Freedom of the Press and Freedom of Speech.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."  I just love those words. No one pursues happiness to the degree we Americans do. 

But the most eloquent words are at the end of that Declaration:  "...for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other, our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor."

What they put on the table when they signed that document on July 4, 1776, makes me tremble. What a commitment they made to this experiment called democracy. I hope they're pleased at how it all turned out.

I know I am. And I am most grateful to call America home.

Luke listens to music I've never heard of, but then we old fogies listen to music he's never heard of either. He mentioned a band name Muse and asked me if I'd ever heard the song "Starlight." Nope, I shrugged. He looked stunned. I kept an open mind and told him I'd check it out.

Later that night, my husband and I were talking to him about songs from musicals we liked and mentioned the song, "I'm nothing without you" from City of Angels.  Nope, he shrugged. Never heard of it. It seemed like we had a bit of a generation gap.

The next day, I checked out Muse on YouTube. Great band. Great song. Great light show. When I told Luke I had listened to it, his eyes lit up. Then he told me he had gone online and listened to "I'm nothing without you" and really liked it. My eyes lit up.

How cool to discover that our taste in music wasn't a divide, but a bridge.

There are no children out. Block after block, the yards are empty. There is no one screaming all-ee-all-ee-in free. No one squealing as they run through front yard sprinklers. No one racing to the tree to holler SAFE! before anyone else.

No Ghost in the Graveyard. No games of SPUD. No kids riding bikes.

Where are they all? I fear they're inside glued to the TV, the internet and video games. Maybe they're all at soccer practice or Little League or ballet class.

It makes me appreciate my mom tossing all 11 of us outside. We made up war games and threw dirt bombs at each other. We had water fights with empty Joy bottles. We played Mother May I, Freeze Tag, Dodgeball, Kickball and Flashlight Tag.

When we finally did come in at the end of the day, we were covered in mosquito bites and scabs and Bandaids, but we had a blast. And summer lasted forever.

The most important thing I've learned about marriage is that, while you do it one day at a time, you also take the long view. When you hit a bump in the road or find yourself facing a Mount Everest of a problem to climb, you walk forward together, step by step, with confidence that it's only another part of a long, amazing journey together.

When I got breast cancer less than two years after we married, my husband stood even closer by my side. "We're in this for the long haul," he told me. Those words carried us through surgeries, chemo, radiation, going bald (me, not him), losing my breasts, and all the assorted problems life tosses your way.

How do you make a marriage last? How do you make any relationship last? You love for the long haul. Love isn't a feeling. It's a choice. You choose to love someone, and you act on that love in this moment, in this day, hour by hour. And when it gets bumpy you don't flee or fret. You tell yourself, "I'm in this for the long haul."

When my daughter was little, her dad wasn't around so my five brothers filled in.

Matt, Jim, Tom, Mark and Michael taught her to ride a bike and throw a football, introduced her to the humor of the Marx brothers and the Three Stooges and taught her to beat them at kickball and Risk. They came to her First Communion and school plays, her Christmas pageants and graduations.

When she got married, she told everyone, "I found a man who is just like my uncles." What a tribute to them, and to her husband.

Happy Father's Day to all those men who aren't fathers, but are the best dads a kid can have.

That's the message I learned at the Worcester Women's Conference in Worcester, Mass. They invited me to give the breakfast keynote, then filled me up with their own wisdom.

I met Bonnie St. John, an author, inspirational speaker and executive coach. She's also -- her words -- "a one-legged black woman." That means she's had three hurdles to leap: being a woman, being African-American and being an amputee. She lost her right leg when she was 5.

Bonnie went on to win medals in the Paralympics in skiing of all things. I can't ski on two legs. This woman zooms downhill at 65 mph on one leg. Amazing.

She told the story of a mom at a hospital whose son was badly burned. The woman asked Bonnie, "Will my son ever live a normal life?"

"No," Bonnie said. "Aim higher."

Wow. Great advice.

When she won the bronze, she sailed down the hill then hit a patch of ice at the bottom and fell. She paused, got back up and went across the finish line. She learned the person who got the gold medal also crashed, got up instantly and finished.

This quote of Bonnie ended up on a Starbucks coffee cup: "People fall down. Winners get up. Gold medal winners just get up faster."

It's about a psychiatrist who thinks his wife is an imposter. I'm not sure I understood most of it, but I enjoyed the writing. My favorite lines:

"In my neighborhood we had a name for people like you -- parsley."

"I've always thought of my mind as an unruly parliament, with a feeble leader, with crazy extremist factions."

And this, "Dogs offer more comfort than I do." Ouch. I used to date guys like that.

For next month, we're going to read a short story that was in the New Yorker called, "Extreme Solitude" by Jeffrey Eugenides. Here are a few choice lines:

"He buried people with his reading lists."

"Madeleine felt impoverished by her happy childhood."

The weeds had taken over. So did newborn maple trees, raspberry thorns and ropes of ivy. Even the grapevine was reaching down taunting the plants. An invader that looked like a strawberry but produces tiny round berries that are inedible had wound around the whole plot.

As I pulled away weeds, grass and uprooted tiny trees -- and it took me three hours -- I realized more berries would have grown if I had visited more often and removed what didn't belong. My strawberries had something to teach me about life. How what you love can get crowded out by nonsense and noise, but also by what is interesting and even good, but simply doesn't belong.

It's clear that we need to weed out the things that are obvious distractions and time wasters, but life can be full of too many good things. Sometimes we have to decide which ones we can focus our attention on so they grow and which ones we have to abandon or root out, the people, projects and plans that aren't ours to tend to.

It's hard to choose, but if you don't, what's most important can get lost, like those precious berries.

My nieces and nephews didn't spend their time here watching TV and movies or playing video games on DS or the internet. They played badminton, painted pirate ships made of wood, made Shrinky Dinks in the toaster oven, had a pillow fight, dropped Mentos into Diet Coke bottles to create fountains of pop and ran around like kids in love with summer.

How refreshing to see kids just being kids.

Every few years my birthday falls on Memorial Day. This year, my thoughts drift to Gunnery Sgt. Robert Gilbert who died from injuries suffered in Afghanistan. I had the honor of interviewing his father who told me what it was like to read the "if I am wounded open this" letter. My heart goes out to him today.

All through high school I wore a POW bracelet with the name Capt. Robert Coady 1-18-69. He was missing in action in Vietnam and later presumed dead. I found his name on the wall in Washington years later. I still wonder who he was and who he left behind. I still have the silver bracelet and will wear it today as a reminder to save a place for those we lost.

Major Michael Davis O'Donnell wrote this on Jan. 1, 1970 from Dak To, Vietnam:

If you are able,

save for them a place

inside of you

and save one backward glance

when you are leaving

for the places they can

no longer go

Be not ashamed to say

you loved them,

though you  may 

or may not have always.

Take what they have taught you

with their dying

and keep it with your own.

And in that time

when men decide and feel safe

to call the war insane,

take one moment to embrace

those gentle heroes 

you left behind.

Michael was one of those heroes. Two months after he wrote that poem, his helicopter was shot down as he was attempting to rescue eight soldiers. 

I met Fred, who 35 years ago was told he had six months to live. He had testicular cancer at 25. He's the happiest guy I've met in a long time. He loves his job at Costco and treats the employees and customers as if they are his family.

I met Johnny, who is ecstatic about his job at Costco. If you ask him, How are you doing? He answers, "I'm living the dream." He's a big believer in abundance. "I look at my life as ministry," he told me.

It's easy to see why. One customer stopped by my table to buy a book as a gift for herself. "Today is my anniversary," she said, then started to cry.

How long have you been married, I asked.

"Twenty three years. My husband died last year," she said. In her cart sat a dozen white roses. She bought them for herself to celebrate their wedding anniversary.

I left feeling like I'd been to church.

A strange thing happened before I got to page 55: I lost my voice. It started with a sore throat and swollen glands then took over my whole head. It's probably just a bad cold, but whatever it is, it forced me to be silent for a few days. No cell phone calls. No endless chattering. No mindless conversations. Every word is precious and painful.

"Nothing has changed the nature of man so much as the loss of silence," wrote Max Picard, a Swiss philosopher. Think about how noisy the world is, the TVs in waiting rooms, the background music in stores, the endless cell phone conversations.

Silence is a good companion. As Confucius said, "Silence is the friend who never betrays."

She was one of the handful of sisters left at the Carmelite monastery where I attend Sunday Mass. She always stood tall with her eyes lowered in the modesty of a monk. Annamae left teaching to become a contemplative.

Priest Don Cozzens gave a lovely eulogy. "The humble find traces of God everywhere," he said. Annamae used to stop people to say, "You are so good." She found goodness in everyone.

The church was packed to overflowing. The white walls never glowed brighter. Two things from the service will remain with me. The joy in the room as we sang, "The hand of God shall hold you, the peace of God enfold you, the love that dreamed and formed you, still surrounds you here today. The light of God beside you, above, beneath, inside you, the light that shines to guide you home to the loving hand of God."

And the back cover of her program with the quote by Saint John of the Cross: "The language God best hears is silent love."

That's what Annamae was. Silent love.

A reader just sent me a copy of Oprah's "No Phone Zone" pledge which I posted on my Plain Dealer blog.

I wrote a column on May 1 about my efforts to stop talking and just drive. It was tough to hang up and drive at first.   I was guilty of having long conversations on longs drives on the interstate just to pass the time. Now I savor the view as I drive and pay more attention to what is in my window, side mirrors and rearview mirror.

Not only has it made me a less distracted driver, it is making me a more mindful driver, mother, wife and friend. Instead of multi-tasking, I'm more present in the one thing at hand and the people I talk to after my drive ends get my full attention, which they deserve.

Don't run with scissors.

Sit ten feet from the TV or you'll ruin your eyes.

Don't go outside with wet hair or you'll catch pneumonia.

Crack your knuckles and you'll get arthritis.

My mom had 11 children and used all of the above plus these:

Take it outside (the football, the fight, the cartwheels.)

You'll be late for your own funeral. (I probably will be.)

If it was a snake, it would have bit you. (Whenever the obvious was right in front of me.)

The best lesson she taught went unsaid: Always make room for others.

We had a huge dining room table. Dad kept adding plywood to the middle to fit all 13 of us. Every holiday, my mom welcomed strays, our friends from college who couldn't get home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. She always made room for more.

More food, more friends, more love.

What a moving experience signing books tonight at The Gathering Place, which offers support services for anyone touched by cancer.

Two women asked me to sign books in memory of their sister, Penny. Then I met Penny's daughter and mother and we all ended up in tears. 

One woman asked me to sign one for her husband who has cancer. "He's just so angry," she said, then started to cry.

A few women were bald from chemo, a few others wore wigs. I showed them the picture of me bald that I keep in my wallet. It reminds me that every day is a good day. Even that day was.

No, life isn't fair, but it's still good.

It's amazing how many people can look at a piece of writing and all see the same thing -- or miss the same thing. It's like that old trick of the eye:

   Paris

  in the

the spring.

In Lesson 36, "Growing Old Beats the Alternative. Dying Young Looks Good Only in Movies" I offered a list of 50 things to do to celebrate turning 50. Somehow I left out Number 28. How? I can't blame old age. I can't blame chemo brain anymore, since it's been 12 years since cancer. 

I even read the entire manuscript for the book on tape version and didn't catch it. Neither did the three people listening. The Swedish translator caught it as she was translating the book from English to Swedish. 

So here it is, pencil it in your book on page 168:

28. Reflect on all the people you would like to meet in the next 50 years.

The emails are starting to pour in from around the country. This one touched me deeply. Cheryl from Atlanta, Ga. wrote:

"I am grateful for your book and your story. I have never written an author regarding a book of any kind. I felt compelled to write. Your story is amazing and I'm sure it has touched many lost souls like mine.

"My husband of 18 years announced last October while on his way to the Home Depot that he no longer wanted to be married to me. That he wanted to pursue happiness. Two weeks later, I moved myself and my 3 children in to a home that we could afford. We were divorced four months later.

"It has been six months and I do not cry every night anymore, but there is still enormous pain. While strolling through the book store, I came across your book. I could not put it down. Almost every lesson applied to me somehow. After reading your book and your lessons, I actually feel like I can make it.

"I feel like I have a purpose in life and it is wonderful. I cannot wait to wake up each day and apply these practical wisdoms in my life. When faced with enormous pain, it is hard for a person to pick themselves up, dust themselves off and keep moving.

"Your book has reminded me that each person has purpose and value. We've just got to believe, and keep moving. Thank you very much, and may God continue to bless you."

For all the Cheryls out there: hang in there. It will get better. The best really is yet to come. Be patient. Just keep taking the next right step as it appears day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. You are not alone. 

When she turned 75,  I  made a list of 75 things I loved about her for her birthday. The first ten were easy. She gave me five brothers and five sisters. I gave her the list as part of her gift.

This week I signed books at the Jesuit Retreat House and told the story about my mom and that lesson. Many women bought a book to give their moms for Mother's Day. Two women said they planned to write inside the book a list of all the things they loved about their moms.

They decided to list one thing for every year that she had been their mom. What a great gift, to tell your mom on Mother's Day all that you love about her. Don't wait til she turns 75 like I did.

In the last week, I went to Anchorage, Detroit, Philadelphia, Seattle, Baton Rouge, Rochester, Colorado and Wisconsin without leaving home. Satellite radio tours are the best.

On the Ben Merens show on Wisconsin Public Radio, listeners called in with their life lessons:

"You don't have to be sick to get better."

"I'm not going to grow in my comfort zone."

"Find out why the fence was put there before you tear it down."

"You're exactly on time whenever you arrive."

"Do it. Do it right. Do it right now."

One caller offered a haunting three questions:

If you had two minutes to live:

Who would you call?

What would you say?

What are you waiting for?

Over dinner before my book signing last night, my publisher called. How exciting to hear Jamie Raab scream into my voicemail, "Regina, you are a New York Times best selling author!" Did I hear her right? I called Grand Central Publishing and my publicist confirmed it.

God Never Blinks is No. 10 on the hardcover advice list that comes out May 2. The book came out April 13. Wow.

A big thanks to all of you who have bought the book for yourselves and for your moms for Mother's Day and nieces, nephews and kids for graduation. You sent me over the top!

What really sent me over the top were two encounters at the book signing. One man came to the table and thanked me for calling his daughter 16 years ago. She was in high school and pregnant. Since I was an unwed mom at 21, her parents had asked me to talk to her. The man told me she was doing great, had the child -- who is now 16 -- and she's happily married. He thanked me for calling her all those years ago.

Then a woman came up and opened a beautiful scrapbook for me to sign. It held photos of her son, Brian, who died of cancer. He was in second grade.  I had mentioned him in a column that was taped in that scrapbook. He had the biggest grin in his obituary photo. What a joy that little guy was. He still lives in his mom, who volunteers with cancer patients. She asked me to autograph the scrapbook. That little boy's smile is still with me.

A woman just emailed me to ask how to give her mom, who is turning 80, the same gift I gave my husband when he turned 40.

Lesson 32 in my book tells the story of my husband's 40th birthday. He wasn't facing a mid-life crisis. It was more life a mid-life correction, trying to find out how he mattered in the world.

So I made a list of the 40 people who knew him best and loved him most, then wrote to them all or called and asked them to write him a letter or a card and let him know what impact he had on their lives. They were to secretly mail me the cards so I could collect them all in one box and give it to him. The key is to give people an early deadline and to remind them more than once to follow through. And to contact more people than you need, in case someone declines.

They sent long letters and short poems. They told stories from high school and summer youth camp. They thanked him for late-night phone calls and last-minute advice. He was overwhelmed by their love.

"This is the kind of stuff they say at your funeral," he told me.

Why wait? Say it now.

The line at Barnes & Noble in Crocker Park stretched around the book store. I spent two hours non-stop signing books last night. The best part was hearing all the stories people shared. So many told me about their children, their parents, their spouses and all the detours life took them on.

One woman shared that her niece got breast cancer at 24 and got it again at 28. Another shared that her daughter was struggling with crippling depression. So many told me about the heartache in their lives. It felt holy to sit and listen and just be with them.

They bought God Never Blinks to give for Mother's Day, for graduation gifts, for birthday gifts. One woman did her Christmas shopping and bought six copies.

Two people gave me gifts. One woman gave me a lovely wooden cross. Another woman gave me a paperweight with the words: What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?

I would help all these people find their way to hope and joy.

Tonight I signed my name more times in one night than any other time in my life. I don't think that signature looked the same way twice. My handwriting leaves lots to be desired. The nuns used to call it chicken scratch.

The Plain Dealer hosted the first book signing and even fed the crowd, which could be why they were so kind and gracious. It was like a love fest. But then I suppose people who don't like you don't come to your book signings.

My daughter, husband, stepson and son-in-law came. I wore pearls in honor of Lesson 21.  A few women asked me to sign their book with this dedication: Wear the pearls. Yes, today is special enough to wear the good stuff.

I spent yesterday soaking up what it means to be a published author. I've been a journalist for 24 years, but I have to admit, it is pretty wild to see your name on a book. Plus the people at Grand Central Publishing sent me flowers, my stepson brought me a bouquet of daisies and my daughter and her husband bought me two book signing outfits. I didn't know you got gifts. How cool.

People are already calling and emailing to say the book is changing their lives. A lot of men have called in tears saying it's making them look at how they are living versus how they want to be living. My cousin's daughter works at a local library where there are 115 holds on one copy of God Never Blinks.

Last night I heard author Mitch Albom speak about his book, "Have a Little Faith." He spent 8 years talking to a rabbi who shared the secret to happiness: Be satisfied.

Right here, right now, be satisfied with the person you are, with the life you already have. I plan to practice that today.

Today is the day and all I can hear is the voice of Dr. Seuss ringing through my head:

Congratulations!

Today is your day!

You're off to Great Places!

You're off and away!

Today I'm officially an author. My dream came true. Ever since I read Harriet the Spy as a kid, I wanted to be a writer, even though I fought Mr. Ricco in 9th grade English when he forced us to write a paragraph a day. Today I send him blessings. Every time I look at this book with my name on it, I feel a sense of awe and peace and gratitude.

Last night we kicked off the book launch with a family dinner at Nighttown. My grandson's eyes grew big as the bread plates when he heard a blast of jazz coming from the other room. What a great reminder that every day is the day for something new, for something great. 

Every today is the day. 

"Overture, curtain, lights! This is it, the night of nights. No more rehearsing or nursing a part, we know every part by heart..." Somehow with my book launch two days away, that Bugs Bunny Show theme song is running around my brain.

This book truly is my part, it is full of my lines in the script of life. For so many years, I prayed,  asking and often begging, for a new script. A new act. A  new part. At least for better lines. Thank God for unanswered prayers. It all belonged just the way it unfolded.

The Plain Dealer is running excerpts of  the book all week and today launched Life Lessons on bibs, cups, aprons and clocks.  Karen Long, our book editor, wrote a grace-filled article about the hunger we all have for soul food.

I feel a calm in my soul, a completion of sorts. Mother Teresa once said we're not called to be successful; we are called to be faithful. Of course I'd like both, who wouldn't? But the peace inside tells me I have written my part, read my lines, embraced this script and can rest in that alone.

I'm getting flooded with responses today about the column I wrote in The Plain Dealer about why Catholics stay Catholic. A few hundred responses by noon. Most readers agree with me and passed on their reasons for leaving or staying.

A handful invited me to leave and weren't so kind in extending that invitation. A few yelled in the phone, "If you can't follow the rules, get out!"

My friend, Mary Ann Flannery, the nun who runs my spiritual home, the Jesuit Retreat House,  gets frustrated with the nonsense in Rome. She told me  this:  "I love my God and my faith and the spirituality, rising like incense, from our House in the forest."

That retreat house restored my faith in God. A great Jesuit there told me to forget all that stuff about infallibililty, limbo and purgatory. All that matters is this: Did you love?

Wonderful day celebrating being loved, especially by my family. It started with this message at Mass by Father Howard Gray, who said,  "When we have nothing left but who we are, we discover what a gift that really is." He also pointed out that we don't have to earn love, "It's the great Easter gift to us all."

Then he read part of an excerpt from a Modern Love article in the New York Times about a mother's love for her adopted daughter. It made us all cry when he concluded, "Love requires bravery." It certainly does.

Spring is bringing so much new life everywhere. We welcomed into the world a new nephew this week: Christopher James Brett. I've only seen  pictures so far, but C.J. is adorable. I can't wait to feel that newborn skin and angel hair.

My grandson is discovering daffodils and crocuses. He's learning more words. How is it he can say turtle but not grandma? At least he knows who I am. He claps when he sees me. Makes my heart melt. But then he'd probably clap if he saw a turtle.

The April issue of Redbook magazine offers tips on the "one-step secret to hotter sex," how to clear clutter, a recipe for Key Lime Cake and...three books to buy: Fireworks Over Toccoa, by Jeffrey Stepakoff, Imperfect Birds, by Anne Lamott, and God Never Blinks, by yours truly. They're giving away 20 copies of each book. You can enter the contest at redbookmag.com/winit

As for that one secret to hotter sex, here it is:

Breathe.

Apparently deep breaths increase the flow of oxygen and can...well, buy the issue.

I'll never forget the picture of The Good Samaritan on her dresser. She said it was the first thing she looked at in the morning and the last thing she looked at before going to bed. It reminded her to live a life of compassion, a life for others.

Bill lives a gentle, peace-filled life. I trust his selection, which includes books on evolution, Celtic spirituality, the poetry of Rumi, a Buddhist atheist and a spiritual survival guide for gay and lesbian Christians. One book is about heaven, all the things people imagine it to be.

Heaven? I see it every time my 1-year-old grandson claps his tiny dimpled fingers.Where do you see it?

He loves to climb steps. I stand close behind, clutching his onesie as he goes up. The other day he made it all the way to the top of the stairs then froze when he saw a sunbeam in his path. He couldn't figure out what it was. What a delight to see him reach and grab the light only to come up empty again and again. He was mesmerized. So was I, at his profound presence.

My favorite review so far is the one by Toodles! -- you gotta love someone who goes by the name Toodles! -- who said: "Reading this book is like sitting down and reminiscing with your mom, aunt, or grandma about things that have happened in life."

How cool. I feel like actress Sally Field when she cried,  "They like me! They really like me!"

Four years ago today, my cousin Phil lost his 16-year-old daughter. Keely had struggled with bipolar disorder and finally gave up. She took her life one afternoon, just went into the bathroom and hanged herself.

I never knew she had bipolar disorder until she died. Phil and his wife, Binnie, opened our eyes to all who suffer. Every year they ask the family to light a candle for her, and to remember all who struggle. They sent an email this week reminding us that every 16 minutes someone in this country commits suicide. Of those, 90 percent have brain disorders like Keely did, disorders people like Theresa Borchard and the folks at NAMI have dedicated their lives to illuminating.

My yahrzeit candle is burning on the stove, for Keely, and for all who have lost the battle. 

Hope you had a chance to test drive my new website. My book "God Never Blinks: 50 Lessons for Life's Little Detours" comes out on April 13, so I've been doing a countdown on Twitter, tweeting the lessons backwards from 50 down to blastoff day. Only 29 days left. 

My friend, Terry Pluto, told me that no one will care as much about your book as you do. He's probably right; it's like wanting everyone to think your new baby is as cute as you do. The book really is cute, and bright, too. You can't miss that orange cover.