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Tornado Shelter
“I’m going to run and pick up Garrett from the airport. Be right back.”
These were my parting words to Mom as I headed to the Omaha Airport for the third time in 24 hours.
Aunt Joan
My Aunt Joan died last weekend. Although her death wasn’t a surprise, her absence has left a hole.
Dying Alone
I’ve always had a comfortable relationship with time.
When asked to name a positive attribute about myself, this typically comes to mind. However, I don’t always say it.
Instead, I give another answer that is true but fits more neatly into the expected answer box.
Running Through Paris
I pulled my watch off its charger and onto my wrist in sleepy grogginess. Barely awake, I realized I was lying in a bed in Paris. And then I noticed the time.
“Oh, my God! Garrett, it’s 9:05!”
A Piano Story
Our beloved piano was on the auction block.
Soon up for bid as an auction item at my grandparents’ estate sale was our family piano.
This piano had a long and loving history with my family. It began at my grandparents’ home in the 1950s after being handpicked by my Grandpa’s sister, Sister Aidan.
Not a Winter Sports Kind of Person
I could hear my classmates outside, squealing in downhill delight while I sat alone by a warm fireplace.
It was March of 1985, and this senior trip was our last outing as a close-knit class of forty-four. The majority vote landed on an outdoor winter fun day at a nearby ski hill that offered skiing or tubing. I chose neither.
The Gift Horse
My great-aunt sat next to me on my grandma’s floral couch. Squeezing in closer, she presented me with a little box.
“How I enjoy all of your letters! They are so well written and full of updates on the goings on in Remsen.”
A Last Childhood Christmas
“Wow, the airplane wings are full of ice. Not good.”
The words came out of my brother’s mouth as he sat next to me on a commercial airplane.
It was December 1986, and my first real plane ride at age nineteen. My brother, Matt, was seasoned in flying, just finishing a two-year Army stint overseas.
I Believe
I followed my grandpa up the narrow steel ladder in the dark of night. My two brothers were behind me, with our breath filling the winter air. Our portly grandpa led the charge, his enthusiasm overcoming any lack of athleticism.
Detour to Denver
“I think he’s in the shower.”
I tried peaking in the front door window of Garrett’s home with my parents standing on either side of me. After ringing the doorbell twice, the only response was two barking dogs.
Never Forgotten
Brad Lane, one of the nine Russ and Cookie Lane children, died in 2007. My marriage to their son, Scott, ended a year later.
Russ and Cookie have since passed away; Russ in 2022 and Cookie just two weeks ago.
When I wrote this story in 2011, my transition from family insider to friendly outsider had begun.
Running Through the Years (Part 4 - Today)
I left my parents’ home in the dark, ready to begin a race with a two-mile running loop.
This is how my running adventures began forty years ago: out the back door of my parents’ Iowa home to run my two-mile route, beginning and ending in the alley behind our garage. Young and dumb, I almost always ran in the dark of night.
Running Through the Years (Part 3)
Through our 30s, with a daily whirlwind of backpacks, field trips, and daycare, Kristi, Angy, and I continued our 5:30 a.m. morning runs. As working moms with kids of the same age, these runs were equally therapy as exercise.
Monday Morning Meetings
“Oh, shit!” were my words as I pulled into my parking stall at work.
“Oh, shit, Mommy!!” four-year-old Grant mimicked back to me from his car seat.
Grabbing my bag with two minutes to spare at 6:58 a.m., I had just noticed that Grant was still in my back seat rather than playing with his daycare friends.
My plan was amiss.
Wonder Twins
“Wonder Twin powers, activate!!!”
My best friend, Bev, and I recited these words as we touched our plastic rings together. And then, without another breath, we went into a free-fall from her garage rafters.
Running Through the Years (Part 2)
A blond ponytail flapped in the wind like a pony’s tail swatting a fly. This was my rear-view visual on a recent run.
The ponytail belonged to a runner, much faster and younger than me.
As the young runner charged into the distance, my mind played the Miley Cyrus song “Used To Be Young.”
Running Through the Years (Part 1)
Running became a part of my life in the late 70s. It was officially called jogging at the time and became the exercise rage. My dad decided to give it a try and would jog after work. As a pre-teen and my dad's after-work sidekick, I decided to join him.
A League of Their Own
“Who is that on the field?”
My friend Bev and I asked each other this question as we squinted from the baseball bleachers. We tried to make out the unknown player running in from the outfield. Although blending in with the other boys catching fly balls, we noted something was amiss on the baseball field.
“Is that Kim Schorg??”
Movin’ on Up
My new boss, Jo, stood behind me. I was in a strange area enclosed by carpeted walls extending just above my seated head. This would be my first introduction to a cubicle. Unbeknownst to me, this work setup would be the office norm of my professional future.
When Things Aren’t as They Seem
Scrolling through my Threads feed, a post caught my eye. A full-size bear in the China Zoo was standing upright. The caption said it was a bear, but it sure looked like a man in a costume.