Tag Archives: family

July 21, 2026 · 12:38 pm

Grave Matters

It’s inevitable—we’ll all die. Sometime. We just hope that it’s not too soon, or at least I hope that. As Jim Morrison of the Doors once famously remarked, “No one here gets out alive,” and I don’t think any truer words could’ve ever been spoken.

Regardless of how logical this statement appears to be and how it would seemingly inspire preparedness, few of us actually act upon it by choosing to prearrange our own funerals/memorials. It makes perfect sense to do so, though, because it lessens the toll that a death takes on our families—both financial and emotional. The burden placed upon loved ones is undeniable in that deep in the midst of grief, dozens upon dozens of snap decisions must be made following such an unfortunate event. I didn’t even know if my parents wanted to be cremated and had to rely on guessing—because we never talked about it face to face. It wasn’t spelled out in their wills so I had little to go on. My mother-in-law, by contrast, had every minute detail planned down to which specific hymns were included in her service. She wore a pink dress as I recall—one that our twins, who were only six at the time, placed tissues inside its sleeves, because Grandma would never be without tissues. At any rate, I give her a lot of credit for taking so much off our plates by planning ahead.

So, after a great deal of discussion, debate and pure angst, I finally convinced my husband to take the necessary steps to prearrange our ceremonies. To say that it was a tall order is an understatement. I practically had to drag him to the funeral home. Truth be told, it was hard for both of us. No one likes to think about dying and what will happen in the aftermath. It’s certainly not a popular topic, at least not in the conversations I’ve been known to hold. It forced us to think about and answer questions neither one of us had ever before considered. Like what type of box did we want our ashes to be displayed in? I had no idea. Neither did he. Also, which particular flower would we prefer to adorn said box? Again, I was clueless. My husband loves snapdragons because he has a habit of making them “sing” at funerals. Macabre, I know. I love tiger lilies, but would it remind me of the sad fact that the deer in our neighborhood habitually devour the tiger lilies in my lawn, thereby making everyone even sadder? In the end, I decided that it really didn’t matter. Because I’d be dead.

Then there was the whole obituary undertaking—an insufferable writing task that made us both beyond uncomfortable. I mean who wants to do that? It’s nearly impossible to jot down what was notable and decidedly significant in the span of a life—an accounting of one’s entire existence in just a handful of words. It’s a humbling experience to say the least. I discovered that it’s difficult to choose what to include and what not to include. I tried to think of what might be meaningful for people to read—what might those I knew like to learn about me.

What’s more, since the obituaries have been written for the most part, our kids won’t have to deal with that or decisions about gravesites or tombstones since my husband and I have decided to have our ashes placed in our church columbarium—alongside some people we truly adored. So, there won’t be any trudging to the cemetery in all sorts of weather, or feeling obliged to place flowers there on holidays or any other time. Nor will our kids struggle with choosing our burial clothing. We came into this world naked—and we’ll go out naked.

Thankfully, this whole process was made simpler by our Preneed Counselor, Stephanie, at Maneval Allen Redmond Funeral Home. She walked us through some really difficult topics and advised us how to proceed in the preplanning of our ceremonies with both competence and compassion. Fortunately, there are a host of wonderful funeral homes in the Williamsport area that specialize in preplanning. Maneval is one of many.

Now that that is handled, we can get on with life and place our grave matters behind us.

Welcome to my world. It’s where I live (facing the inevitable). Visit me there at www.Facebook.com/NotesFromPlanetMom. Signed books are available on Etsy at PlanetMomMarket.

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Filed under Love and Loss, The Chicken Man

Tagged as death, family, funeral, grief, life, marriage, marriage humor, memorial, passing away, preplanning, writing

July 14, 2026 · 11:30 am

Jet Lag

Confession: My husband and I haven’t flown in over 16 years—and it shows. I don’t know how that happened, it just did. Life got in the way of our travel plans, I guess. At any rate, we looked like fools at the airport, not realizing that people check in with an electronic kiosk now instead of interacting with an actual human. Thankfully, we were traveling with our daughter and her partner so together they were able to walk us through the process of tagging our enormous suitcase and printing our boarding passes—which would’ve been a nightmare for tech-challenged people like us.

Of course, packing that enormous suitcase (that came unreasonably close to exceeding the 50-pound weight limit) was an exercise in futility. We scrutinized the ridiculous list of approved substances for our carry-on bags, the recommended baggie sizes and permitted volumes of liquids along with all the restricted items until we were ready to scream. And because the gods hate me, my 3-oz. bottle of shampoo leaked anyway. On both flights.

As one might expect, our TSA experience was tolerable in both airports, but still inconvenient and time-consuming because of the incredibly long lines—and because I had to remove my belt and almost lost my pants shuffling to the scanner. Everyone else was in the same boat which made it entertaining. Sort of. Thankfully, only one of us had to be subjected to a pat-down and the thorough inspection of a backpack—all because of sweat and the fact that the stupid machine couldn’t “see” through a hardcover book. As a result, we almost missed our return flight. But on a positive note, we encountered some adorable cats that were also waiting in those long lines and at least one of us got to pet them. On a side note, I’m fairly certain the cats were more personable than the TSA could ever aspire to be.

I know I’ve used a travelator/moving sidewalk in the past, but I don’t remember it being such a challenge to keep pace with while hauling an embarrassment of bags and constantly looking over my shoulder to see how my husband was managing with his embarrassment of bags. As an added bonus, he had to maneuver around an oblivious toddler who was planted near the exit path like a tree. The good news was that neither of them wiped out and we made it to our gate in time for preboarding.

I also don’t remember navigating an airport so large it should be criminal via a people mover, which is a glorified subway where it’s common practice to hang on for dear life. But it got us to where we were going—in a hurry.

The actual flights were good in that we took off without incident, stayed in the air and landed safely, all the while tracking our path across the country on a nifty little screen situated on the back of the seat in front of us. Being the nerd that I am, I truly enjoyed such a device and felt compelled to inform my husband every time we flew over a city, lake or other noteworthy landmark. I figured he’d thank me later. The only downside was that our kids were seated next to an oddball who never spoke—not even to the flight attendant or to them when they needed to scoot past him to use the restroom. It takes all kinds, I guess.

Interestingly enough, I later learned that Newark and Denver made the list of 11 most stressful airports in the United States. Naturally, we hit both of them in one day. But because of the expertise of our wonderful AAA travel agent, Felicia, all went according to plan. She made arrangements for both hotels, two-way flights for the four of us and a spacious rental van for the amazing week we spent in Colorado with another daughter and her fiancé.

Needless to say, we all had a terrific time bonding for the first time as a family since January—unless you count FaceTime. We visited with some friends who live nearby, shopped ad nauseam and had a blast at Topgolf together. Never mind the delicious meals. And the trip to the summit of Pikes Peak was especially exhilarating via the Cog Railway. Only three of us needed canned oxygen and/or an inhaler, so I’d call that a win.

And because every adventure is educational, I learned that it’s not a vacation until someone gets a tattoo. For the record, four of us did. I also learned that jet lag is, indeed, real.

Welcome to my world. It’s where I live (poring over gorgeous photos of snow-capped mountains). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesFromPlanetMom. Signed books are available on Etsy at PlanetMomMarket.

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Filed under Family Affair, Gratitude, Life is a Highway, Ode to Embarrassment, Rantings & Ravings, Road Trip, Vacation Schmacation, We Put the Fun in Dysfunction

Tagged as airports, Colorado, family, family vacations, humor, humor marriage, parenting, stress, travel, vacations

June 16, 2026 · 12:00 pm

Good Grief

My parents’ estates have long since been settled, but over the years I’ve found that I’m still tethered to my past—not only because of the memories I hold dear, but because the tangible possessions I inherited help me connect to those memories in a very positive and concrete way. Perhaps a good type of grief, triggered by remembrance.

I can still envision just where the antique prints, mostly of children and their pets, were situated in our ranch-style house. I never thought much about the paintings growing up, but I now see why my mom was so drawn to children as subjects. She was a third-grade teacher for most of her career and, of course, loved kids. She had so many paintings that they were almost too numerous to count, let alone hang on available wall space. I sold the majority to an antique dealer in town, but kept a handful—my favorites—to place in my own home. I don’t think there’s a day that I refrain from noticing a new, small detail in the artwork, one that I somehow hadn’t before and I now understand what attracted her to each individual print.

Likewise, the furniture I received is special in so many ways. As I run my hands over the primitive oak, mahogany and yellow pine pieces I instantly return to my life growing up in my parents’ household. I remember which dishes were housed in which cabinets and kick myself for not keeping those, too. They were so pretty. At least I salvaged some of the earthy, old crocks and decorative trinkets, my parents’ dressers that were handmade by my great-grandfather and the tiny wooden cabinet I played with when I was a child—one that is inundated with a cache of vintage, metal dishes that my cousins (as well as my mother) played with, too. Moreover, I kept a pair of Adirondack chairs that we had gifted to my parents years ago—chairs that they lounged in as they watched the deer gather in their front yard on many a summer’s evening. Never mind that the paint is fading and the wood has seen better days.

And I can’t forget the massive hutch my mom picked up for me at an antique sale—the one that boasts four doors, five shelves and its original metal latches. Together we painted it on a sweltering summer day in the shade of our carport. She chose the color—a glorious shade of forest green that now complements my rustic kitchen décor. Who knew it would one day be wedged perfectly between our windows that overlook the front lawn?

What’s more, I can’t forget the cozy, faux leather chair my brother and I somehow crammed ourselves into—together with our dog—while watching entirely too much Bugs Bunny and Tom and Jerry. My husband and I had to have the chair reupholstered once it wore out because I just couldn’t part with such a tangible reminder of my past—especially since my brother is no longer here to reminisce with. A generous sampling of his décor now adorns my kitchen countertops and the aforementioned hutch, too, and I can’t help but recall how they once looked in his house. The wicker basket he used for incoming mail. The beautiful canisters of colorful pasta. The crock full of old wooden spoons he collected.

I think he’d be happy that I’ve placed them prominently.

And then there’s the car—my mom’s black BMW coupe. I loved that car and surmise that she loved it, too. I truly hated to part with it, but had to trade it in eventually because the Blue Book value kept inching downward with each passing year. I drove it for close to nine years, never once becoming involved in a fender bender, thankfully. Frankly, I don’t think I ever felt so comfortable behind the wheel (before or since). It just fit me as if it knew me—like it was cradling my body. It fit my mom apparently, too, which is probably why she kept it so long. I sometimes scroll through my photos to find her car—pictures I took just before I traded it in—in an effort to say goodbye, or hello, to Mom. I zoom in to the photos to remember the details, its sleek design, its undeniable beauty—and I smile.

Sometimes the grief we experience is the good kind of grief—remembering what was, (and as they say) smiling because it happened.

Welcome to my world. It’s where I live (probably smiling). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesFromPlanetMom. Signed books are available on Etsy at PlanetMomMarket.

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Filed under Love and Loss, "N" is for Nostalgia, Love and Other Drugs, Family Affair, Gratitude

Tagged as estate settling, family, grief, inheritance, keepsakes, love, Love and Loss, memories, remembrance

June 9, 2026 · 12:44 pm

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Fred Rogers was right. Having good neighbors is a very important thing, and it’s equally important for people to reciprocate that act by being a good neighbor. Rogers’ famous song, “Won’t You Be My Neighbor,” was situated at the start of each episode of his beloved PBS television show, Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. He kept the lyrics simple, but despite their simplicity, they clearly resonated on a deeper level the message of caring about others.

Unfortunately, according to a Pew Research Center study, a lot of people these days don’t even know their neighbors, let alone consider them friends—which is a sad commentary on our modern society. Worse yet, the trends are heading in the wrong direction. Perhaps for a variety of reasons, people are no longer investing the time to hold real conversations and form lasting relationships with those who live near them. Lots of people have busy schedules, or they rent and may move often—which might explain some of the effect.

Regardless of why it’s happening, it surely is happening and I for one think it’s tragic. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without my wonderful neighbors. Aside from socializing around a firepit or catching up with them on our daily walks and interacting with their kids or pets when we encounter them, I’ve depended on them on more occasions than I can reliably number.

I’ll never forget the time Beth S. raced across the backyard to our house one night, wielding a golf club (an iron, I think), while our kids were home alone and afraid because they heard a strange noise outside. After talking with her, I remember feeling extremely relieved that all was well and thankful she had come to the rescue, once again.

I also remember Tony D. giving us invaluable peace of mind when he checked the entire perimeter of our home because we called to tell him we had received a notification from our security service while we were sitting in Carnegie Hall in New York City. Once again, it was a false alarm, but we felt immeasurably better because of his kind act.

Nor will I forget the time our neighbor, Ron C., bailed us out by picking up our family after our Jeep broke down and needed to be towed. He took time out of his day to drive to the outskirts of town and haul us all home, our kids likely jabbering the whole time. And as I mentioned a few weeks ago, our neighbor, Jay R., not only started our leaf blower on more than one occasion, he also helped us relearn how to vacuum our pool the old-fashioned way (by hand) without once chuckling at our ineptitude.

And there was the summer that our neighbor, Craig C., helped my husband dig through an ungodly amount of shale to install our new mailbox—one that was attached to a wooden post he painstakingly measured and built in his shop, just to be neighborly.

What’s more, our friend and neighbor, Jeremy J., plows our driveway every winter with his nifty four-wheeler (sometimes with his daughter aboard), never once asking to be compensated for his efforts. Likewise (and before Jeremy moved in), Nick Y. shoveled the mound of snow and ice embedded at the base of our driveway—because the township snowplow, of course, had undone all the work we had accomplished with our snowblower.

Another irreplaceable neighbor, John I., offered to go with me to visit my husband who had just arrived at the ER via ambulance. I recall we had barely settled into our house, now almost 30 years ago, and already he was willing to be there for us.

And there was Tera B. who literally saved our marriage by assembling a Pack ‘n Play for us while we held our newborn twins and looked on in amazement at both her patience and mechanical skill.

Yet another treasured set of neighbors, Christine and Phil J., will forever hold a special place in our hearts because they kept our new puppy overnight on Christmas Eve—so that our daughters could experience one of the biggest and most memorable joys on Christmas morning when they were six. They still talk about that Christmas surprise to this day. I can only hope my husband and I have returned the many favors I’ve described here. It’s likely I’ve forgotten to mention some.

Fred Rogers was, indeed, right. Neighbors are some of the most important people in our lives. Be like Fred—make an effort to get to know your neighbors.

Welcome to my world. It’s where I live (feeling grateful for my neighbors). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesFromPlanetMom. Signed books are available on Etsy at PlanetMomMarket.

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Filed under Love and Other Drugs, Family Affair, Gratitude, Won't You Be My Neighbor

Tagged as parenting, family, love, gratitude, neighborhoods, neighbors, Fred Rogers, Won't You Be My Neighbor

June 2, 2026 · 12:25 pm

Out to Pasture

Just when I thought my household décor was in vogue and on par with the latest design trends, the universe had the audacity to inform me otherwise. I know this because I watch entirely too much HGTV. Apparently, my kitchen cabinetry is dated, even though its appearance and functionality are ideal in my mind. I love the soft close feature that each cupboard boasts and the ridiculously spacious Super Susans nestled in the corners. Even the key cabinet, where we now house all sorts of things aside from keys, is beyond convenient. Never mind the enormous drawers hidden beneath our 34-square foot island that can each hold 100 pounds or more. And because I own way too many pots and rogue Rubbermaid containers, those drawers are perfectly suited to manage it all.

I can’t even begin to express how thrilled I was, and continue to be, with the spaciousness of almost every aspect of our kitchen that we renovated over 13 years ago. Even the junk drawer has room for all our junk—which is really saying something.

And the sturdy exterior of the cabinetry, a beautiful Brazilian stained quarter sawn oak that makes my heart smile every time I enter the kitchen, extends all the way to the ceiling so that I no longer have to wonder what to do with the worthless space (i.e. dust trap) atop the cupboards. Plus, I can now store even more—I just have to haul a stepladder in to make it happen. And yes, the countertops, island, floor and paint all hail from a decidedly warm and earthy color palette—egregiously far from what is considered trendy by today’s standards. Everything, it seems, is either pristine white or muted gray nowadays. Where’s the fun in that—let alone the whimsy?

What’s more, popular kitchen/bathroom hardware, fixtures and lighting are mostly brushed brass of late, something I tried so hard to eradicate from my home since it smacked of the ‘80s. Are we going backwards here? Are bell-bottoms next? That said, wallpaper has been resurrected from the dead, evidently. I cringe every time I see the hosts of the Property Brothers or Love It or List It decide to add it to various rooms as some sort of magical feature because I distinctly remember becoming enraged while attempting to remove every stitch of it from my home. At one point, we had to hire someone to save us from ourselves by doing the job for us. Thank you, Ed Gair.

It’s no surprise that the entire topic of home improvement has always been a point of contention between my husband and me. We rarely agree on the specifics of how to renovate, so when the stars and planets align so that we are, in fact, on the same page, we immediately put the changes into effect. That’s how we ended up with gorgeous dark walnut-hued vinyl plank flooring (that looks exactly like hardwood) in our living room and dining room. Amazingly, it resists scratches, stains and water. Good thing—because we had a little dog that whizzed on the floor indiscriminately for years. Unfortunately, though, we can’t seem to agree on whether to replace our hideous pink carpet in the bedrooms that my husband swears is salmon with more carpet or perhaps more vinyl. He is of the opinion that we should install more carpet (potentially terrible carpet) while I think vinyl plank flooring makes more sense because it would contribute to the overall flow in our home. Of course, I learned that term by watching HGTV.

Either way, we’re doing it wrong according to the home décor experts. Invariably, the folks on many of the episodes prefer lighter-colored flooring. And they almost never opt for carpeting, much to my husband’s disappointment.

Further, I’m sure if they had their way regarding our home, they’d advise us to knock down walls, move the stove and reorient our stairwell in order to create a more open concept and better feng shui. Yes, I learned those terms on the network, too.

No doubt, that very same network would likely be prepared to put my precious design ideas out to pasture, long before it’s time. Who knows; maybe the universe is right.

Welcome to my world. It’s where I live (probably watching HGTV). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesFromPlanetMom. Signed books are available on Etsy at PlanetMomMarket.