If you are anything like me, you struggle to balance all of the requirements of the various roles you play.

I’m a list person. I think I have to be as a result of my dual Gemini personality. I’m fun, flighty and creative on one hand, and all business on the other. Throw in a little ADD and the lists make perfect sense.

Here’s today’s version:

Walk Luna. She’s my seven month old lab. I’ve learned that without a walk in the morning, nothing else on the list gets done.

Mow grass. Doing so is actually creative time for me. I make different patterns when I mow and come up with story ideas. This blog resulted from today’s yard work.

Call Yellow Springs Historical Society/Library/Chamber of Commerce. These are all in anticipation of my research trip to this great little town for my next book.

Call about the community garden. Check. I’m in and look forward to helping!

Respond emails. Isn’t it amazing how time consuming this can be?

Set up more school visits. I’m so looking forward to sharing my latest book, a middle-grade biography of Millie Benson with students.

Update website. I tried. I failed. Another email to send.

Work on YA manuscript. This line item has been way too low on the list. Word Count is at 20,000. I need 40K more. I’ll get there.

I’m so blessed that I’m finally achieving something I’ve wanted to do for a long time: write full-time.

As you can see, writing children’s books especially nonfiction, requires more than just writing. It involves research and being resourceful. It involves doing whatever you can as an author to promote the book, from setting up school and library visits, to book signings.

Yet, without writing every day, none of the rest would follow.

With that, I’m back to my manuscript.

I hope you find balance in all you do!

Picture taken at Mcaffee’s Knob, Roanoke, VA, after a 4.4 mile hike!

Defying Gravity


I’m stoked. I’m going to see my favorite musical artist in concert.

Idina Menzel. Tomorrow night. With friends.

I almost peed my pants just now even thinking about it.

I’ve been listening to her radio station all morning while writing, researching and cleaning.

Idina’s songs serve as the soundtrack of my life these last fifteen years.  “For Good”, “Defying Gravity” and more recently, “Learning to Live Without” speak to my heart and my experiences.

I listen to music all the time while working, and am not ashamed to admit that I even dance by myself when inspired. Like just now when “Valerie” from the Glee Soundtrack came on. I dare you to try and sit still while listening to this rendition.

My office is way too small to contain all the energy that song generates, so I slid out onto the deck, my excited six-month old lab following me in excitement.

Caught up in my enthusiasm, Luna joined me, barking and running circles trying to catch her tail. Doggie dancing.

After the song finished, I sat with her for a moment on the deck, being mindful of the beautiful day.

As I rested, I saw three little white moths dancing together over our patio, which is flanked by a water garden and my vegetable garden.

The three swayed together for a bit, then one broke away and flitted over the tomato plants, off on its own. The other two floated over the water, then off and way up high into the woods behind our home.

Of course, it made me think of my three children, one dancing up in heaven for fifteen years, the other two creating their own paths here on earth.

I’m grateful for all three of them encouraging me to remember to laugh, sing, and get my groove on whenever I feel like it.

I hope that life provides you with moments where you defy gravity and get up and dance.

You can bet I will be tomorrow night.


Stuff dreams are made of

My editor sent me a note yesterday, sharing that my latest book, a middle-grade biography of Millie Benson, was mentioned in an article in Publisher’s Weekly.

Get out of here.

Publisher’s Weekly?

That’s like my golf game garnering recognition in Golf Digest. I can only hope.

The piece was titled, “Is Children’s Nonfiction Having Its Moment?”

I hope it isn’t just a moment. I have many more real stories to share with children. Stories about amazing people who are inspiring. And stories about significant events in our history that need to be told in such a way that children get excited about them.

Hi-story. Maybe that is how we need to pronounce the word.

After all, that is what our past is all about, isn’t it?


I’m so blessed to have yet another opportunity to slip into the shoes of being a published author. I’ve got to say, it’s a pretty comfortable feeling. I could get used to this.

I’m proof that one can accomplish their dreams at any point in life.

You’ve just got to try.

So, go on and try.

Meanwhile, I’m going to keep writing. And working on my golf game.

Who knows what might happen?

Check out the full PW article here:

On Impact


The young woman walked confidently up to the wooden lectern, with the beautiful bright blue Jefferson Awards Foundation logo sparkling with all the camera flashes.

Without hesitation she began her story.

“At the age of eight my father was incarcerated for one hundred and thirty-five years. For several years my mother and I were left homeless.”

She took a deep breath and continued.

“At the age of thirteen my mother tried to kill me by shooting me.”

My heart sank, my throat constricted, and tears welled.

Without skipping a beat this seventeen-year-old offered that she had chosen to dedicate her efforts to Habitat for Humanity, so that no other family had to live without a home.


I approached her after all of us regional Media Partner Jefferson Award recipients had the chance to share why we were chosen to be honored to the audience.

“I’m so glad to meet you,” I said. “After hearing your speech I just wanted to hug you.”

She opened her arms, smiled and replied, “After hearing yours, I wanted to do the same.”

I found it rather ironic that I would make a connection with a young woman living with a mother who clearly doesn’t deserve to be one, while being recognized for honoring my own daughter taken from me entirely too soon.

This young woman was a reflection of the incredible individuals I met throughout the two day national Jefferson Awards conference. I was touched by the work other bereaved parents are doing in honor of their children. And others with their own losses and challenges. I met a woman from Aiken SC who lost her husband to a drowning accident. She’s providing life jackets and safety lessons to those enjoying the lake her husband lost his life to. I met a man who is providing camping experiences to special needs kids. And another who lost most of his lung capacity due to an accident who is teaching children how to fish.

Most of all, I came to terms with being recognized for what I have always considered to be a family and team effort.

Just as I cannot claim Claire entirely as my own, for she belonged to all of us who loved her, nor can I take ownership of what we have created in her honor.

When it was my turn at the lectern, through tears and smiles, I offered our journey. As a mother, as a family, as a community.

I was honored with rousing applause after thanking the audience for allowing me to share Claire’s story, our story.

And I touched a young woman who is back living with the mother who tried to shoot her, for the physical abuse she suffers is “better than the emotional abuse from the foster homes.”

I’ve been asked by many friends what the experience was like. It was amazing being in the presence of so many giving back to their communities. It was incredible sharing all the “goose bump” moments with Brad, Kyle, Ian, my brother Gordie and niece and goddaughter, Hannah. Icing on the cake was having my two dear friends Susan and Pam along, as well as Jeanette and Diana from Read for Literacy/Claire’s Day. The gala dinner was spectacular, with Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor roaming through the audience as she spoke. The Secret Service agents must have been having conniptions. She didn’t care.

But most of all, the ceremonies left me wanting to do more, to give more. To recognize more children who are working so hard to improve their reading skills. To give more books to children who don’t have any in their homes. To share Claire’s story with the world.

And to perhaps help make a difference in the life of a young woman who deserves better.

Paying back


A friend recently told me that all the good stuff happening to me as of late was the universe paying me back.

She also said she was waiting for the same in her life.

“Hang in there,” I said. “It will happen.”

My life proves that even though bad things do happen to good people, (and excuse the assumption, but I do really try to be good), good things happen too.

It all begins with choice.

I chose to live after my daughter died. Really live.

I chose to honor her in a way that was true to her.

I chose to hold on to my relationships with my awesome husband, Brad, daughter Kyle, and son Ian.

I chose to accept all of your gracious help and support.

I chose to get my derriere back in my desk chair and start writing again.

I chose to be open to opportunities even when they were downright scary sometimes.

And all of these choices have lead me to all of the good stuff of today.

So hang in there. Hold on to those who love you, make the best of each day and rest assured, the universe will pay you back.


The audience rose as my name was announced.

My loss, love and life had just played out on the big screen in three minutes.

The emcee allowed me a few moments to gather myself before addressing the hundreds of people attending.

My heart raced, and my right palm was moist around the little piece of paper I wrote on just before leaving for the ceremony.

I managed to get up from the table, accept a huge hug and kiss from my husband Brad, and walk up the steps to the riser, where I was greeted with warm hugs from the co-hosts, and presented with a beautiful, original glass piece with a base that read, “Julie Rubini, Toledo Area Jefferson Award Winner.”


With tears still tumbling down my cheeks, I looked to the little piece of paper.

My early morning scribbling stared back at me.

Words. No words to explain. Sharing words in Claire’s honor.

Gratitude. Brad, Kyle and Ian.

Team. Volunteers. Sponsors. Community.

Mission. Purpose.

And somehow I managed to stitch together these words to share what was on my heart.

I would gladly trade in the attention and accolades to have Claire back.

But as that is not to be, I graciously accept, both the recognition and the many blessings I have in my life.

Thanks to Brad, our children Kyle, Ian, and yes, Claire, for your love, support and inspiration.

And to all of you reading this, for your role in lending me your wings so that I could fly.


“The key to immortality is first living a life worth remembering.”

— Bruce Lee


I won’t live forever.  Nobody does.  I know this all too well.

So, I try and live every day. Really live.

Tough standard, to live life to its fullest. Every day.

I fail miserably often.

I get caught up in worry about a tomorrow that may never come.

I let anxiety spill over in inpatient interactions with the ones I love.

I lose sight of what is really most important in life.  Family. Health. Friends.

But, I try.  Every day I try and appreciate the beauty, the gift of this day.  Of those in my life who

are in it.  And those who have left.

I’m back to rewriting memoir.  I hope to capture how I’ve learned to live life at a deeper

level since my daughter Claire died.

How I’ve moved forward from July 6, 2000 to today.

Losing, grieving, remembering, honoring, and living. Really living.

Claire didn’t live a long life.  But she lived one worth remembering.

Just as important, my husband, Brad and I made a choice after the end of her life.

We could merely exist, or we could really live.

I’m so grateful we chose the latter and have filled our lives and those of our children with joy.

I ask for your support as I guide this journey in story, one that hopefully will be remembered

long after my time comes.

Groundcover Vendor #42

I met up with my friend, Denise Brennan-Nelson up at the Ann Arbor Farmer’s market this week. She is a children’s book author and motivational speaker.  I am so grateful that Claire’s Day brought us into each other’s worlds. Through our many conversations, get-togethers and emails, we have discovered a mutual love of the significance of family, nature, exercise, trying to eat right, positive energy and Rodney Strong cabernet.

The picture was taken at our most recent visit in Ann Arbor, a nearly half-way point to her home in Howell, MI and mine in Maumee, OH.

But the photo and our time together really isn’t the story here.  The story is found in the person taking the picture.

His name is Shawn Story.  He is Groundcover Vendor #42.

Denise and I passed him three times coming and going to the Farmer’s market.  He greeted us with a nice big smile each time.  He held newspapers in his hand and I believe a badge identifying himself and the price for an issue, a buck.

As we headed out to our cars to go our separate ways, I saw Shawn.  I told him I would be happy to buy a newspaper, but wondered if he would also take our picture.

He gladly agreed, snapped the shot and gave me a paper. I gave him the dollar, thanked him for his time and turned to walk away.

“I have a poem on page five,” he said, with a big smile on his face.

This is an excerpt from his piece, titled Knowing is Half the Battle.

Having a go-get-it attitude will always get you what you need.

Being positive, eating well and exercise will motivate you to do the right things.

Knowing is half the battle.

Engage in what is important to you and what is right for you.

It is alright to take someone’s opinion, but you have to make the decisions.

You have to live with what you do.

Knowing is half the battle….

The Groundcover newspaper’s mission is “creating opportunity and a voice for low-income people while taking action to end homelessness and poverty.”

I’m glad the paper shared Shawn’s voice.  It was amazing to me how similar his message was to the discussions that Denise and I had over breakfast.

I intend to send a message to the newspaper to let them know how Mr. Story touched me with his piece.  And how I learned once again that the story isn’t always to be found where we think it is.