Firefly

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The policeman had already come. Calls were made. A steady stream of visitors gifted us with their love. And casseroles. So many casseroles.

Brad, Kyle, Ian, and I clung together through that day, the news of our loss unbearable.

We did the same at bedtime, a tangle of arms and legs in our king-sized bed.

I lay awake, listening to the soft sounds of my children sleeping. A pill had been offered to help me sleep. I refused. So I struggled, my mind unable to shut down.

She was gone. Our Claire, our oldest, our little reader, dancer, big sister, fancy dresser, and feisty spirit. Gone.

I didn’t want to disturb my family in their sleep, so I got up. I went to the bathroom. Came back to bed. Got up again.

I grabbed a pillow and went downstairs to the sofa in the front room. The same room where the “time-out” chair sat in the corner, facing outside the big picture window. Claire spent some time there. So did I.

I pulled the throw that lived on the sofa, the same one we’d snuggle in as we read together, over me.

I closed my eyes, but the glow of the streetlight, which for years illuminated neighborhood games of flashlight tag, spilled into the room.

So too did the deep scent of the stargazer lilies from the arrangement my siblings sent that day.

A stark reminder of our heartbreak.

I gave up, thinking I’d rather lie sleepless with my family than without.

With pillow in tow, I made my way up the steps.

Then I stopped.

Something was glowing on the steps.

My eyes were blurry and dry from lack of sleep and continuous tears, so I wasn’t sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing.

I bent over, waited a second, and then, sure enough, it flashed again.

A little firefly had made its way into the house and onto my steps.

Photo credit: “Firefly on clover” by ikewinski is licensed under CC by 2.0.

It brought a smile as it lit up intermittently.

Typically, I would scoop it up and let it outside to join its fellow nighttime revelers.

But I was too tired and comforted by its presence, so I let it be.

As I walked up the stairs, images of our three little ones running around on summer nights catching them in mason jars came to mind.

I’d done the same when I was a child.

And, just as then, I would have the kids release them before turning in for the night.

They only live for such a short while; it’s not fair to hold onto them. Their lights are signals for love, I’d say. We wouldn’t want to keep them from finding love, right?

So they would open up the lids and let them fly free.

Image credit: “Fireflies leaving the glass” by Elena Schweitzer

I slipped back into bed, finally falling asleep. I woke up a few times and sensed a glow in our room. As my eyes flickered in and out of sleep, so too did the hint of light.

I was the first to get up that next morning. As I walked across the bedroom carpet, I discovered my little firefly, still blinking ever so slowly.

He had followed me up the stairs, down the hall, and into the room with my family.

I picked him up gently, walked downstairs, opened the front door, and let him go.

After all, it wasn’t fair to keep him to myself, I thought.

And just like that little firefly, I felt it wasn’t fair to keep the memories of Claire, her gifts, closed up tight.

I needed to let her spirit go, to share her passion for reading, her joy, and yes, her feisty character with all of you.

And that’s exactly what I’ve tried to do through Claire’s Day.

We lost Claire 26 years ago on this date, right in the heart of firefly season here in Ohio.

When I see all the beautiful bioluminescent creatures light up the night, I think of Claire, reaching out to signal her love.

 

 

Wonderful article in Publishers Weekly on Claire’s Day

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Life has been beautifully busy lately, and I failed to share the news of a beautiful piece written by Claire Kirch (of course!) for Publishers Weekly. It was wonderful to see such a lovely story about our 25th Annual Claire’s Day this past May. Check out the link to the story here.

A Trip of a Lifetime

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“I long to ride a bike, dance, whistle, look at the world, feel young and know that I’m free…” Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl

I read Anne Frank’s diary over 50 years ago. I was so moved by her story that I’ve wanted to visit the annex where she and her family took refuge in Amsterdam ever since.

This last month, while on a Viking river cruise of the Rhine, Main, and Danube Rivers, the dream became a reality.

And, we did our best to honor young Anne’s wish for simple freedoms by actively pursuing them throughout our adventure!

AMSTERDAM MAY 21-23

The staff of the Pulitzer Hotel was putting up cream-colored bunting and massive flower arrangements at the front entrance when we arrived. At check-in, the staff invited us to the annual “Garden Party.” This is a celebration of the Pulitzers’ expansion and renovation ten years ago. The hotel consists of 25 restored 17th- and 18th-century individual homes that are exquisitely linked together to form one amazing space.  Brad and I enjoyed watching the fashionistas and young people gather in the courtyards as we raised a toast to our 38th wedding anniversary.

The next morning, we set out on the first (of so many) organized walking tours of the various cities we visited.

Stolpersteine, German for “stumbling stones,” is a program initiated by artist Gunter Demnig in 1992, commemorating all victims of the Nazi regime. The stones are placed in front of the victims’ last place, whether business or home, where they were free. Over 120,000 of the plates are in over thirty countries.

The peaceful sanctuary in the other photo is Begijnhof, hidden in the heart of Amsterdam. We were instructed to be silent as we roamed the grounds of the 14th-century former home to Begijntjes, a Catholic sisterhood (not nuns) who chose to live semi-monastically.

The Frank family hid away in the annex of Otto Frank’s business on July 6, 1942. They were discovered just over two years later and deported to Auschwitz. Otto was the only survivor, and upon his return, he discovered the space was empty. The annex opened as a museum in 1960, left barren as it was after the war. This is a small-scale study of a sculpture of Anne Frank. The text behind the statuette reads, “I’ll make my voice heard, I’ll go out into the world and work for mankind!” The bookcase is the original, the passage to the secret annex.

Anne Frank photo credit/Photo collection: Anne Frank Stichting, Amsterdam/ photographer unknown

Sunflowers, van Gogh museum, Amsterdam canal, a scene from Vondelpark, and cheese, glorious cheese!

Viking Ship

We set sail on the Skadi, a 440-foot Viking river ship, on May 23. This is a photo of our stateroom, all 205 feet. Note the flowers tucked in the corner…a sweet and beautiful gift from Kyle and Ian in honor of our anniversary.

May 24-25 Kinderdijk, Cologne, and Bruhl

We sailed overnight on the Rhine to Kinderdijk and took a walking tour to the beautiful windmills. We were able to wind our way up the narrow staircases into the keeper’s living quarters. At Brad’s height, it’s just as well that was never to be his livelihood. The next day, we walked through Cologne. The highlight is the cathedral, which was spared during World War II as it served as a landmark for pilots.  Listed as a UNESCO heritage site since 1984, the Augustusburg and Falkenlust Palaces in Brühl were exquisite.

May 26-28 Koblenz (Marksburg Castle), Miltenberg, Würzburg, and Bamberg

There are over 40 castles on the Rhine between Bingen am Rhein and Marksburg. The Marksburg castle is only one of two that were never destroyed, and the only one to not fall into disrepair! Love the 12th-century reading nook, and the view was spectacular.

We loved Miltenberg, Germany, which sits on the Main River. It is a beautiful medieval town with an old castle, which we just had to make our way up to.

The full-day trip to Rothenburg ob der Tauber was worth the drive. We traveled for a bit on the Romantic Road…a 220-mile scenic route winding from the Main River to the Alps. The town of Rothenburg served as Walt Disney’s visual inspiration for the village in Pinocchio, and a scene from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows was filmed here.

Known as the Wurzburg Residence, this was the palatial home to a succession of prince-bishops for over 200 years. One who holds this title is both a Catholic bishop and the civil ruler of the territory. Construction on the palace began in 1720 but was not completed until sixty years later. Only a few weeks before the end of World War II, an air raid destroyed 90 percent of the town, and the residence was nearly burned down. The photo doesn’t do the fresco by artist Giovanni Battista Tiepolo justice.

We arrived in Bamberg on the morning of Friday, May 29, day nine of our 20-day adventure! I opted for the walking tour, and Brad chose the Franconian Beer Culture experience. I had fun texting pictures of these separate experiences to the kids… me at a library with an illustration exhibit, and Brad enjoying the local brews.

May 29-June 2 Nuremberg, Regensburg, and Salzburg

The weather on the morning we drove into Nuremberg reflected the solemness that prevailed. As we drove past the massive, unfinished grounds where propaganda rallies were held from 1933 to 1938, it began to rain.  It lightened up a bit as we came upon the Palace of Justice, where in Courtroom 600 the prosecution of Nazi war criminals occurred.  Brad and I were led on a tour (by 7’2″ Martin) through the bunkers beneath Nuremberg Castle, where priceless artwork, stained glass, and other treasures of the Holy Roman Empire were kept.

Our itinerary had a slight change as the water levels of the Main/Danube canal were too low for our ship to pass through. So, we repacked, left our luggage outside our door before we left for Nuremberg, then were bused that afternoon to a different Viking ship, the Bragi. The transition was seamless, and although we would miss the Skadi crew, the new crew did their utmost to provide excellent service. Brad went on to Regensburg while I rested my foot (dealt with a bone chip and fifth metatarsal injury the whole trip).  Storms raged that afternoon, but cleared up to provide this beautiful sunset.

 

“The hills are alive with the sound of music…” I was so excited about our full-day tour of Salzburg. Many scenes from my favorite musical were filmed here, including Maria singing “I Have Confidence” and splashing water from the Residence Fountain in front of the Salzburg Palace. After the tour, we took the funicular up to Fortress Hohensalzburg, one of the biggest castles in Europe. Our last stop was an organized lunch, where songs from the musical were performed. Singing was definitely involved!

Benedictine monks have been living and working at the Melk Abbey uninterrupted since 1089! Our guide was a former student of the school, which is still in operation. What an amazing sacred space! Our ship was docked close to the Abbey, so we were able to walk back…a welcome reprieve from buses! Later that day, we did get on a bus headed out into the countryside of the beautiful Wachau Valley. Our destination was the Morwald winery. The photo captures the fun experience with Erhard, the vintner, and our guide, who came to Austria as a Fulbright scholar from Vermont and stayed ever since. We bought a bottle of their award-winning Grüner Veltliner. It managed to make its way home unbroken!

June 3-4 Vienna

Billy Joel wrote his ballad, “Vienna,” after a visit with his estranged father in the city. Joel observed that the elderly were respected, in contrast to how older people were treated in the United States. The lyrics remind us to slow down, to enjoy life, and to know that one doesn’t have to fear aging. Our first day in this beautiful city was rainy, but that didn’t stop us from enjoying. I managed to get a photo of one of the famous Lipizzaner horses as it looked up from its stall. St. Stephens Cathedral is breathtaking, and literally at the heart of the city. The flower market offered a bright spot on the rainy day, as did Brad’s cute smile.

“Slow down, you crazy child, and take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while. It’s alright, you can afford to lose a day or two… when will you realize, Vienna waits for you…” 

We took the lyrics to heart as we went rogue and made our own plans for day 2. We walked into town, rented e-bikes (first experience for both of us!), and rode 25 miles on bike trails and roads up to Josefsdorf, offering incredible views of the city. I’ll never forget the fast-paced ride down the steep cobblestone street, making our way back into town. I’m not sure how effective my slippery helmet would have been!

June 5 Budapest

One day was not enough to experience this city, which is actually two…Buda and Pest. (Pronounced PESHT) We were wise to hire our own driver and tour guide for the day, which helped us get to all the highlights. Our list included the Royal Palace, the views from Fisherman’s Bastion (the pic with the arches), Gellert Hill with the Statue of Liberty, reflecting Hungary’s liberation from Nazi rule, the Chain Bridge, Parliament, Basilica of St. Stephen, and City Park and Heroes Square. We ended the day at the famous Szechenyi thermal baths.

I cried at the haunting Shoes Memorial on the Danube Bank. Cast-iron replica shoes serve as a reminder of the horrors of Nazi victims being forced to take off their shoes…a valued commodity, before being shot to death, their bodies tumbling into the river. Most of the shoes were filled with pebbles. Our guide explained that placing one in a shoe honors the memory of the thousands of Jews murdered here. I picked one up and gently put it in a child’s shoe.

June 6-8 Prague

This city is a fairytale, with its own Snow White! We stayed in Mala Strana, right near the famous Charles Bridge. Highlights included Prague Castle, the Astronomical Clock (featured in Dan Brown’s novel, Secret of Secrets), a boat ride into the Devil’s Inlet (or Little Venice), and exploring hidden little cafes and shops. It was my favorite destination, and I would go back in a heartbeat. As famed novelist Franz Kafka wrote about his hometown in 1912, “Prague never lets you go…this mother has sharp claws.”

I don’t think we’ll ever be able to let go of the many memories throughout our trip. My only regret was not getting photos with the new friends we made on the ship…including Denise, Tom, Kendall, and Quinton from CA, Frank and Barbara from Coeur d’Alene, ID, Troy and Julie from Madison, WI, Paula and her sister from Bloomfield Hills and Philadelphia, Jenny from New Zealand, and so many others who shared their stories and opened their hearts to ours over memorable dinners and shared experiences.

That is the only regret, though, as I know we honored young Anne Frank in her desire to be free to enjoy all this world has to offer, while singing, bike riding, dancing, and simply looking around.

25 Years of Celebrating Our Little Reader Gone Too Soon

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It’s hard to fathom that our Claire left us almost 26 years ago.

And that this May we will be celebrating the 25th annual Claire’s Day festivities.

Check out the most recent Claire’s Day newsletter.

We hope if you are in the NW Ohio area in early May, that you will gather the children in your life and come join us in the celebrations!

For all the latest, click on the link below.

https://conta.cc/47MUR7b

Ohioana Celebration of Virginia Hamilton and M.C. Higgins, the Great

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Come join in on the celebration of Virginia Hamilton, the most honored author of children’s literature, ever!

Her son, Jaime Adoff and I will be discussing Virginia’s Newbery-Award-Winning novel, M.C. Higgins, the Great, as well as Jaime’s upcoming children’s book release. Here’s a link to sign up for this free lecture!

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/100-years-of-ohio-authors-1975-virginia-hamilton-and-jaime-adoff-tickets-1983634898379?aff=oddtdtcreator

Slow Down, You Move Too Fast

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Simon & Garfunkel’s “Feelin Groovy” has been a mantra for me.

The lyrics start out…

Slow down, you move too fastYou got to make the morning lastJust kicking down the cobblestonesLooking for fun and feeling groovy

I’ve often hummed or sang the tune on the golf course, as I try to establish rhythm in my swing.

I should sing it while having sharp objects in my hand.

Here’s the latest outcome of just not paying enough attention, moving too fast, and then, well, shit.

Allow me to explain.

I was just minding my own business, reading our local paper online Sunday morning. Then, our Areca Palms we inherited when we purchased our RV lot in Florida last year, called out to me. Yep, they were all chanting that they needed trimming. And, boy, they said, don’t you want to take your new garden shears for a spin?

So, I heeded the call to lot maintenance.

I should have stuck to reading the paper.

There’s one of the palms tucked away, which required a bit of a stretch to reach the branch I needed to trim. Just a simple reach, with my left hand on the palm, of course, no glove on said extremity, and did a quick snip with my right hand.

Of both the frond and the base of my left hand.

Lessons learned from this latest escapade;

  1. Do not trim, slice, or dice anything while Brad is away from the site. Did I mention he had our only car?
  2. Do not trim, slice, or dice anything when you need to really stretch to do so. It’s just not worth it.
  3. Do not trim, slice, or dice anything. Period.

So, Brad to the rescue, racing home, taking me to the local urgent care, where we were advised it would be 2 hours before I would be seen. This was at 11:30 a.m. I registered fully, and we turned back around for home. At 1:15 I received a text message that it would likely be closer to 1:50 before I’d be seen. I drove to the clinic again at 1:45. Technology! How cool! I wouldn’t have to wait in the  room filled with actual sick people or smokers.

Ha! The computer had gone rogue and was apparently spewing out “We are ready for you” messages when they really weren’t. A mere hour later I was finally ushered into a room.

The doctor, Rachael, smiled as I shared my latest incident with a sharp object.

Yes, there have been others, I told her.

Like the time the night before running a half-marathon with my younger brother, Gordie. We vowed to run the Disney Half in honor of our late sister, Karen, who was a track star in high school. Gordie’s family, my family, and our brother Jeff’s, all gathered at a local Italian place the night before to “Carbo load” for dinner. A freshly baked, unsliced loaf of bread was placed at our table. I thought I’d be nice and cut pieces for the family.

“I think you can sense where this is going,” I told her.

I dang near sliced off the end of my right index finger off.

Not ideal when you are running 13.1 miles the next morning.

“With blood spewing out of my finger, the emergency room doctor in Orlando asked how it happened. When I told him what I just shared with you, he laughed.”

That doctor said, “So you’re telling me the half-marathon is tomorrow, and you’re in the emergency room tonight? Usually we see patients afterwards.”

I didn’t appreciate his humor. Or the six stitches to piece my finger back together again.

Doctor Rachael just cracked up.

“Did you finish?” she asked, referring to the race.

“My finger hurt like heck the next day, but we successfully ran the half-marathon, and I earned my Donald Duck medal,” I said proudly.

I went on tell Doctor Rachael that since then, I’ve had fingers glued and stitched due to cutting veggies for stir fry. (I’m not really sure where the end of that finger ended up. Just kidding.) I’ve also slashed myself by leaving knives in a sink filled with soapy water. I would not recommend.

So, there I was, waiting to get the verdict from Dr. Rachael on the latest slice and dice adventure. Amazingly, the L-shaped deep cut didn’t require stitches, just some steri-strips, surgical glue, and the lovely purple wrap. Doctor Rachael gave me a tetanus shot for good measure, sent me off with a antibiotic regimen, and a little bit of advice.

“You ought to write a book about these mishaps,” she said. “You’re funny.”

I told her I actually had written five books, but certainly not on this topic. It’s my hope that I don’t continue on at this pace, thus having enough material to fill the pages of one.

This blog will suffice.

So now I’m just kicking the cobblestones, setting aside all kinds of activities to allow the gash to heal.

And my Areca Palms remain untrimmed.

The Power of Numbers

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Happy New Year!

2026 is the Year of the Horse, according to the Chinese Zodiac.

Not just any horse, mind you. But the Fire Horse.

Even just typing those words makes me feel energetic and bold, which this special sign represents. The Fire Horse also signifies freedom, innovation, and fast action.

Strap your boots on, we’re rearing to go this year.

Numerologists advise us that one can reduce a year to a single number simply by adding the numbers…

2+0+2+6=10, then simplify this by adding the last two digits, 1+0=1

Welcome to the Universal Year 1.

And, even more significant, January 1, 2026 breaks down to 1/1/1, representing a cosmic numerological portal.

Are you with me so far?

Apparently, this portal is instrumental in intention setting.

I love that. A mathematical hole to step through to pursue our purpose.

Note that I did not say “resolution.”

I’ve always felt New Year resolutions came from a place of negativity…feeling as though we need to change something about ourselves. Lose weight, cut back on bad stuff we put into our bodies, get out of debt, etc.

To me, intentions come from a positive place…things we ought to do more of. Spend time with family and friends, get out and take a walk every day, practice being caught up in the moment.

So, we’ve got the Year of the Fire Horse, a Universal Year 1, and then, as I tend to do, I fell into the numerological rabbit hole, and discovered that my birth date, 21 represents the frequency of 3. (Remember 2+1=3).

I was born three weeks late. The fourth child and three weeks late. Go Figure.

But, I think the universe was just waiting for me to drop on that date, as the core values of the number 3 include growth, creativity, communication, optimism, and harmony. And, my number is associated with understanding and self-expression, i.e. writing.

Reading this through my deep dive brought me back to my intentions for this Year of the Horse.

I’m going to draw on those mathematically established traits and continue to embrace my creativity and try to bring harmony within myself and in all of my relationships.

But most of all, I’m going to dive back into the first draft of the middle-grade novel I wrote last year.

I’ll be intentionally rewriting and revising this personal and heartwarming story. Then moving forward through critique group and ultimately querying literary agents.

As traditional publishing time frames go, my hope is that my novel sells, is contracted, and well on its way out into the universe by 2028.

2+0+2+8=12.

1+2=3

As they say, it’s all in the numbers.