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.

 

 

Page(s) Count

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My heart skipped a beat with an email I received from the Ohio Center for the Book back in May.

“Congratulations! Your book, Virginia Hamilton: America’s Storyteller, has been chosen by the Ohio Center for
the Book to be included in the “Great Reads from Great Places” list for the 2025 National Book Festival of the
Library of Congress!”

Wow.

What an amazing and validating honor, I thought.

And, truly full-circle. The National Book Festival was established by former First Lady Laura Bush. Mrs. Bush also founded the Texas Book Festival, which served as inspiration for the creation of our Claire’s Day in honor of our little reader gone too soon.

Even crazier, this was the 25th annual National Book Festival.

Claire’s Day will celebrate 25 years this coming May.

I continued to read the invitation.

And then my heart sank.

The National Book Festival was scheduled for September 6 in Washington, D.C.

Ugh.

That was smack-dab in the middle of when I was to be teeing it up with my besties up in Northern Michigan for our sacred annual ladies’ golf trip.

I couldn’t imagine missing the National Book Festival, but just as equally, I would have been heartbroken to miss time with my dear friends.

I reached out to my friends and explained the dilemma.

Without hesitation, these seven other ladies rearranged their schedules so that I wouldn’t miss this presumed once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

And of course, my husband Brad, also jumped on board to join me for this exciting trip to D.C..

In the meantime, the Ohio Center for the Book reached out and shared that they would love to feature me in their podcast, Page Count.

Laura Maylene Walter, Fellow with the Center, served as the on-air hostess. Laura, also an author, did an excellent job conducting the interview. If you missed it, check it out here.

The entire weekend in D.C. was everything I could have hoped for.  From a fantastic dinner on Thursday at the Iron Gate restaurant (our waiter, Joey, proclaimed the night “all about Julie” and took such good care of us, even ending the evening with a complimentary glass of champagne!), to touring the Washington Monument, the Natural History Museum, and the National Museum of African American History on Friday.

Friday evening, we were hosted at a reception for all of the Library of Congress affiliates and honorees at the James Madison Building. Don Boozer, the coordinator of the program for the Ohio Center, was kind enough to meet us in the lobby, usher us to the reception, and then introduce us to key Library of Congress staff members. Such a thrill.

The sun filtered through our curtains at the historic Morrison Clark hotel on Saturday morning. I was already awake, so excited for the day. It did not disappoint.

The National Book Festival was like any other book festival I’ve either participated in as an author or simply gone to as a reader. But on steroids!

As pictures speak volumes, here is the highlight reel from my experience…

From left to right: Supreme Court Justice Amy Coney Barrett, meeting a young fan, hanging with Don Boozer at the Ohio booth, fan-girling over Newbery Medal (twice over!) Erin Entrada Kelly.

And finally, my book was featured among all the honorees.

Pinch me.

Brad and I flew home, did laundry, repacked, and prepared for leaving the next day.

Me for that ladies’ golf trip, Brad to a family gathering in North Carolina.

We golfed.

We boated.

And we celebrated over 30 years of friendship.

In the world of children’s book writing, there are industry standards for typical page counts for stories.

In my opinion, as in life, every page counts.

I’m so grateful my pages are filled to the brim!

 

A Creative Life

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“You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.” Maya Angelou

My friend and fellow children’s book author, Michelle Houts, recently shared pictures of a group of peers in a pottery class on social media.  Michelle wrote something about how when writers aren’t writing, we are still creating.

When golfing with my friend Joan the other day, after sharing my current obsession with making gluten-free sourdough bread, she commented, “You’re always creating something.”

For those who know me well, it’s no surprise that I’m often without my phone. I’m more about being in the moment than feeling the need to record and share it. So, when I scrolled through the photos I’ve taken this summer, I realized Maya, Michelle, and Joan are all on the same page.

Just because I’m not always writing doesn’t mean I’m not sprinkling my little imaginative soul juices around.

Here’s a peek behind my creative curtain…

Let’s start with my garden. People say that pets resemble their owners.

Perhaps my garden is a reflection of me… natural, a little crazy, and a bit wild.

What began as tiny starts of a variety of native plants has evolved into this.

There’s whorled tickseed correopsis, mountain mint, bluestem grass, brown eyed susans,

and my favorite, purple coneflowers.

Note the bee box, which is supposed to shelter pollinators. Robins like to perch on it and poop…

 

 

I love creating flower arrangements from the bounty.

Now and then, spiders hitch a ride on the blooms…

I try my best to let them back outside.

 

Speaking of little critters hanging out in my garden, check this out.

Do you see the caterpillars enjoying my parsley?

They are future Black Swallowtail butterflies!

I have three chrysallis attached to the outdoor baker’s rack.

I don’t even mind that they ate all my parsley.

It’s growing back.

 

Other babies got their starts in my garden, too.

Here is one of five fledglings who entertained us as they

mastered flight.

The wires on our deck served as a perfect resting spot.

 

 

Here’s my sourdough starter….

 

…and the result.

I’m loving playing with the process.

It’s so awesome to have fresh, homemade bread again. My mom would be proud.

 

 

Rest assured, I am still working on penning stories for younger readers.

I am currently rewriting my first novel for

middle-grade readers. As any creative will attest, whatever one produces takes

time, effort, and patience.

I’m hoping that just like those little native plant starts, the caterpillars, the tiny blue robin’s eggs,

and the sourdough starter, that with the proper amount of nurturing,

this story grows into a beautiful new creation.

Stay tuned.

 

P.S. This happened later today after writing this blog post. Note the chrysalis attached to the plant stem!

I’ll take it as a sign of good things to come.

Soul Stirring

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“When your soul stirs, take attentive note.”

So begins a beautiful book that my friend, Gayle, gifted me several years ago.

Simply Soul Stirring: Writing as a Meditative Practice has been a wonderful reminder to “be in the moment” both in writing and life.

I hope you’ve experienced those occasions where you feel pure joy…where you feel happiness down into your soul.

That feeling where your soul simply lights up.

There are always so many of these moments at our Claire’s Day celebrations.

But there’s always one that stands out.

Sanaa Orra, one of our amazing Read for Literacy/Claire’s Day team members approached me last week with this sweet child and her Mom.

“Julie, this C.A.R.E. Award winner came to the offices looking for you.  She said she wanted to get a picture with Claire’s Mom.”

Be still, my heart.

I congratulated this young girl on receiving the award in Claire’s honor for improving her reading skills. We chatted a little bit about what she likes to read. About the fun day she had. About how proud I am of her for working so hard to become a better reader.

Before they left, I gave her mom my cell phone and asked if she would be so kind as to send me the picture.

 

 

When I got the text later, the string of photos captured the essence of all our team does to continue to share Claire’s legacy.

With tears in my eyes, I texted the little girl’s mom back.

I told her that it looked like her daughter had an excellent Claire’s Day.

And I thanked her for supporting her reading journey.

Her mom’s response?

“Ms. Julie, she had a great time. Thank you for a wonderful day yesterday.

 

The following images are a perfect reflection of that excellent day.

 

 

After receiving her award, Toledo Public Schools Superintendent Dr. Romules Durant was on hand to congratulate her. Dr. Durant has joined us every year since he began serving in this role.

Those little ones are so fortunate to have such a dynamic leader guiding their futures.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This picture of the little one and her teacher caught my breath. How the light shines on Claire…and continues to shine on the day!

We are so grateful for the hundreds of teachers who nominate their students for the award annually.

As one educator told me last year, “This is my favorite day of the year!”

Of course, part of the magic that happens at Claire’s Day is for children to have their books personally signed by the author or illustrator. Here is award-winning author/illustrator Bea Jackson with this little one. Look at just how proud they both are of their work.

Thank you to all of our Claire’s Day partners, from the incredible Read for Literacy/Claire’s Day staff to our partner schools, sponsors, volunteers, the Toledo Lucas County Public Library, Gathering Volumes bookstore, authors, illustrators, and attendees.

You all stir our souls.

 

 

My Winter of Content

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With all due respect, William Shakespeare, but this winter has been anything but full of discontent.

Just the opposite.

For those of you who have been following our travels in our motorhome, you might recall that two years ago we traveled around Florida. We stayed for a month in Port St. Lucie, renting a lot at the Motorcoach RV Resort here. We had a blast meeting new people. An incredible bonus was hosting our long-time friends Curt and Rita for a weekend filled with adventures from kayaking to renting a boat.

Fast forward two years.

Brad and I considered replicating the same tour through Florida again this year. But then I remembered the hassle of trying to find decent, and affordable, places to park our rig throughout the state. The experience was like trying to get front row seats to an Adele concert the day before. (Not that I’ve ever done that, but I will say I’ve seen Adele in concert with our son, Ian. Best. Concert. Experience. Ever.)

I digress.

So, last April, after winding down a six-month western sojourn in the coach, our daughter, Kyle, joined Brad and I at the Rubini family home in North Carolina. After a glass (or two!) of wine, I decided that maybe we consider actually buying a lot at the resort in Port St. Lucie we loved so much two years prior.

I’ve determined the best decisions are made when wine with one’s daughter is involved. We looked at the resort’s website. I found one I thought was ideal. Kyle thought better.

“I think you want to be on water,” she said.

Ultimately, we discovered “our” spot, one that I call “the little engine that could” site. It was a sad little puppy, it’s neglect apparent.

I can’t resist a rescue.

We bought the lot.

If there was such a thing as an RV renovation reality show, we’d be featured.

We sold the tiki that was onsite to our neighbors.

That paved the way to create our new space. It involved having a section of landscaping (including a huge royal palm) moved, designing and building an entirely new tiki, complete with kitchen, living and dining space. And, all of this involved the process of getting every step of the way approved by the resort’s Architectural Review Committee and making sure appropriate permits were obtained.

There was a big hiccup in the works from the start, where what we perceived as our lot was actually common ground. Never mind it had a brick wall and gate on the perimeter, offering the illusion that it was all our lot. But then again, I digress.

All’s well that ends well.

This winter has been filled with making new friends through all the amazing activities the resort offers. From a weekly biking group, to pickleball, to yoga and water aerobics classes.  We joined an off-site golf club which expanded those new friendships as well.

We both feel so incredibly blessed to have met and made new friends at this stage in life.

With my best and forever friend and partner, Brad.

Toledo friends came and visited, and connected with others in Boca Raton too.

 

 

A “bucket list” item of visiting each of the Seven Wonders of the World began with visiting Mexico and touring Chichen Itza with Kyle, her husband Will, our son Ian and his partner Adam in February. Family time is always precious time.

 

 

 

 

Finally, in this new, beautiful space, I finished a writing project that has been on my mind and heart for awhile.

After receiving an incredibly supportive critique from members of the Society of Children’s Book Authors and Illustrators several months ago, I forged full steam ahead.

Today I completed the first draft of my initial middle-grade novel, and it feels so good.

Stay tuned for any developments on the project as I work toward having the work traditionally published.

As we leave this little slice of paradise, making our way north, spending time with family and friends on our way, I send my very best to the many who have been so kind to us over this winter.

Thank you for making this a season full of content.

And then some.

 

Breaking Radio Silence

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Hey readers…it’s been a minute, I know.

My childhood essays on “How I Spent My Summer Vacation” were filled with adventures in my backyard, and worlds away as I discovered my passion for reading. What seemed to be endless, blissful days playing a variety of traditional games, and not so (Hey, Julie, see if you can beat Greg running through the garden. And into a shoulder-height hole. Fun stuff.) wrapped at the first sound of cicadas whirring.

What probably wasn’t included in my writings were accounts of survival among five siblings (four brothers and one tough, older sister), the art of resolving and negotiating treaties (Please don’t tell Mom. I’ll give you…whatever equated to fair payment for the offense), and general mayhem that occurred when we were all left to our own devices for extended periods of time.

Injuries typically occurred, none serious enough to require hospital visits. And, as I am the fourth in birth order, therefore the self-appointed leader of the “three little kids,” I developed strong convictions between right and wrong.

I shudder to think what social media posts would have looked like at the time. It’s possible social services would have  been knocking at our door.

That’s kind of what this summer has been like…filled with adventures, injury (severe hamstring strain right before our annual ladies’ golf trip), and a situation which challenged my convictions and integrity. Fortunately I made my way through it all with support of family and friends, and as always, great reads to help escape.

So,  that’s how I spent my summer vacation. I didn’t share much of anything on social media, simply because I didn’t feel like it. I needed to work through my experiences without feedback from all of you. Sorry.

But now, we’re on to new chapters and experiences back on the road.

Our first stop brought back other childhood memories.

Every spring the whole lot of us would take paper bags and walk the half-mile to the nearby creek. If we were lucky, we’d bring back handfuls of what we called “sponge” mushrooms. We’d bring them home, soak them in salt water, then dad would sauté them in butter. Little did I know that these fungi were also known as morels, selling for more money than I could ever dream of for a monthly allowance.

Hurricane Helene devastated western North Carolina. One of the thousands of roads destroyed includes portions of I-40, our typical route.  We decided to break the first leg of our trip into two days, including an overnight somewhere I never imagined.

A mushroom farm.

Yep, Sharonview Farm in Monroe, North Carolina, just outside of Charlotte, participates in the Harvest Host program. I’ve written some of the fun golf courses, wineries and cattle farms we’ve stayed at in our past travels.

But never a mushroom farm.

Owners Nasi and Teresa greeted us when we arrived, guiding us to our peaceful spot for the night.

Our motorhome in the background.           Our morning view of the cattle field.

Then Nasi took us back by their shed and showed us how they grow and harvest shitake mushrooms.

They use sweet gum trees, which doesn’t make good firewood and tends to rot easily. The wood is soft and therefore, holes can be bored into without much effort. After the holes are created in the wood, Nasi and Theresa place commercially purchased mushroom spores into the holes.

Sweet gum tree with holes bored for shitake spores. Voila!

Then we took a walk into their mushroom field, or should I say their mushroom farm in the woods.

Mushrooms growing on sweet gum trees.

Brad and I picked three pounds in short order, simply by pulling them from the stem near the base on the tree.

Nasi and Teresa sell their mushrooms at the local farmers’ market during season.

Their biggest harvest? 600 pounds, which took six helpers three days to pick.

With my fun-gi. See how I did that?

Stay tuned on this channel for more adventures!

Until then, get up and get out!

Goosebumps. All. Day. Long.

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On the way to the Main Library of Toledo Lucas County Public Library system this past Saturday morning, I enjoyed taking in the scene along the Maumee River. It was a bit cloudy, but the sun was trying to poke out. Then, with a burst of radiance, beams from the sun cleared through the grey skies, shining down onto the river.

I turned to Brad and said, “Check it out…heaven’s rays.”

I knew then that our 22nd annual Claire’s Day, the celebration of our little reader gone too soon would be an excellent day.

The Main Library in downtown Toledo was jammin’ that morning, an electrified excitement bouncing off the walls and shelves.

A year of planning by our Read for Literacy/Claire’s Day team led to this day. Months of working through the myriad of details, and thousands of emails to all of our partners…sponsors, schools,  and collaborators brought us to this point.

A week’s worth of visits to twenty area school partners by our guest authors and illustrators contributed to the excitement.

It was time.

I had the pleasure of serving as the hostess of several C.A.R.E. Award (Claire’s Award for Reading Excellence) ceremonies that morning. Before bestowing special recognition to the most improved readers from various schools in the greater Toledo area, I spoke a bit about our journey.

I talked about Claire and her love of reading. I talked about our family and our desire to honor her in a way that was true to her. And I talked about those heaven’s rays on the way to the library.

Then we announced the students’ names, and each of the award winners received a personalized certificate and a coupon to choose their very own book from the selection written or illustrated by our guest authors and artists. Each child came up to the stage, some shy, not necessarily used to the experience of being recognized for academic achievement, and got their packet. With huge smiles, they gave high-fives to the many teachers from their schools lending support.

Afterward, a father came up to me and shared that he took a picture with his son proudly showing his certificate, in front of the photo of Claire we had up on stage.

As he handed his phone to me, this big, strong guy had tears in the corners of his eyes. As I looked at the picture, I understood why. There, in the background, with a streak of sun across her picture, Claire glowed in the background.

Wow.

It was the first of many goosebumps moments I experienced throughout Claire’s Day Toledo.

Parents hugging me in gratitude.

Random kids coming up and hugging me from behind, just like Claire used to do.

Teachers we’ve seen year after year, offering their gratitude for what we do for their students. One teacher told me, “This is my favorite day of the year!”

Throughout the day, Brad and I connected, holding hands, sneaking a kiss, and sharing stories together.

Claire wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Uncharted Territory

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The National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) released a statement this past week that for the first time in five months, Voyager 1 is returning usable data about the status of its onboard engineering systems. The next step is to work out the kinks so that the probe starts sending scientific data again.

In essence, Voyager 1 has gone rogue for months on end.

I can relate.

Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech

A journalist reported that Voyager 1 and 2 are “currently venturing through uncharted cosmic territory along the outer reaches of the solar system.”

For those of you unfamiliar with the twin spacecraft, they are the only vehicles to ever travel through interstellar space, the space between the stars.

The space between the stars…just writing the words is mind-boggling.

Back in 2003, Brad and I took our first major adventure in our motorhome with our kids, daughter, Kyle, and son Ian. They were eleven and nine at the time, and we were just three years into our grief journey after losing our daughter, Claire.

During the trip, I was reading Undaunted Courage, written by Stephen E. Ambrose, about Lewis and Clark’s Corps of Discovery journey. Amazingly, our travels paralleled my progress in reading about their adventures in the book. I would share passages in the tome with Brad and the kids, including the quote from Meriwether Lewis, “It is through the untamed wilderness that we find our own wildness, embracing the freedom that arises from charting new territories.”

The motorhome came with a pair of walkie-talkies, which came in handy when the kids would venture off to explore a campground. As this was pre-cell phone days, we could touch base with the kids or call them home for dinner. One evening, while staying at Custer State Park, Ian took our chocolate Labrador Retriever, Ginger, off for a walk. Ian was gone for quite a while, and the sun was beginning to set, a chill settling in the air. I radioed Ian up and asked if he was okay. It took a minute for him to respond, my bereaved mom’s heart picking up beats in anticipation of his radioing back in.

Finally, I heard his young voice squawk over the transceiver. “Yeppers. Just in uncharted territory.”

Brad and I have been in uncharted territory ever since Claire left us on July 6, 2000. There’s no guide to the universe of grief, despite the efforts of our mission team to help direct us back to beaming the status of our operational systems. Sometimes we felt like Lewis and Clark, venturing into the unknown. Other times, much like Voyager 1, reality felt like a zillion miles away.

But somehow we’ve managed to navigate our way on this journey, together.

Our travels, just as in life, require a lot of patience, understanding, empathy, compatibility, and soul-baring communication.

It is through our adventures into the “untamed wilderness” that we’ve come to embrace the freedom of discovering and rediscovering our own “wildness” and zest for exploration.

And just like that little lost Voyager 1, we’re back on track, grateful for our team of friends and family, supporting and guiding us along the way.

We hope that you’ve enjoyed learning about our travels, and hopefully have inspired you to venture on to your own uncharted territories.