Last month, Mom landed in the hospital with sepsis. (Don’t worry—she’s doing much better now!) While she was still in her hospital bed, a volunteer wheeled in a keyboard and started playing Que Sera, Sera. And there was Mom—singing right along, like she hadn’t missed a beat.
Seeing that video reminded me how powerful music can be, especially for people with dementia. I went hunting through my old piano books and pulled out The Sound of Music. (Yes, I still had it from childhood!) I started practicing, and during our nightly calls, I’d play for Mom. She’d hum or sing along, and no matter how many notes I missed, she always ended with, “Oh, I just LOVED that!” Yes, she’ll always be my biggest fan!
It’s become our sweet little bedtime ritual—me practicing, her singing, neither of us caring that it’s the same routine every night. (Though our nightly concert might be wearing thin for my house-mates, John and Mari!)
When I visited Mom in person last week, we even recorded her singing The Sound of Music. And right at the end, as she sang, “My heart will be blessed with the sound of music, and I’ll sing once more,” I teared up and totally screwed up my notes at the exact most emotional moment. Typical me!
Now, I don’t want to make it sound like music is the only way to reach Mom. She’s always brighter when she sees me, either via FaceTime and especially, in person. But music definitely adds an extra sparkle. It makes her happy. It makes me happy. And it brings back a flood of memories for both of us.
I Simply Remember My Favorite Things
Music has been a part of our family’s history throughout my life. Mom played the piano and my sister and I both learned to play, too. Broadway musical hits were popular in our family, but “The Sound of Music” was undoubtedly the musical that generates so many memories:
One of the first movies I saw at the theater!
Mom singing My Favorite Things to me when I was little and crying.
Hearing the songs over and over again from our stereo or being played on the piano.
Our family watching the movie annually together once it was out on TV.
For Mom’s 70th birthday, I rewrote the lyrics to So Long, Farewell, and her six grandkids performed it in a skit that had everyone cracking up.
Music isn’t a cure, but can be a sweet relief from the fears that come with Alzheimer’s. I created this video to the tune of “Raindrops on Roses” hoping it will help Mom simply remember her favorite things.
I haven’t been on my computer nearly as much as I’d like lately. My eyes have been bothering me—a lot. More than an hour on the computer leaves me with headaches and blurry vision.
That said, I still make time to scan my morning newsletters, and last week one led me to a book that instantly spoke to me: Joyspan by Dr. Kerry Burnight. It was featured in an article titled Anti-Aging Is Overrated. Joy Is the Real Fountain of Youth.
The article also linked to this podcast episode, which I immediately listened to. And wow—Joyspan! Kerry described the exact ideas I’ve been living and reflecting on since I retired.
The 4 Keys to Improving Joyspan
Since retiring (and devouring every happiness self-help book I can get my hands on), I’ve often said that the four things I try to do every day are:
Learn
Socialize
Give
Exercise
Kerry shares four keys to joy that look awfully familiar:
Grow
Connect
Give
Adapt
Pretty similar, right? The first three line up almost exactly. The difference is that Kerry lists Adapt instead of Exercise. But honestly, I think exercise is one of the best ways to adapt! Movement helps us adjust to aging bodies and shifting circumstances.
And if there’s one thing I’ve gotten good at—both in retirement and in my work as an Agile coach—it’s adapting. Adapting means embracing change, letting go of rigidity, and finding new ways to do the things we love.
Finding Joy in the Midst of Challenge
Listening to Kerry on different podcasts this week, I especially connected with her stories of resilience. She emphasizes how mindset shapes our aging journey—accepting limitations without giving up joy.
One story really struck me: Kerry described how a friend with Alzheimer’s was still able to offer her meaningful advice. It’s such a reminder that no matter our age or abilities, we all have something valuable to give.
That resonates deeply with my own experience. I’ve written often about my mom and her journey with dementia. People sometimes tell me how thoughtful I am to call her every night. But honestly, I benefit just as much—maybe even more—from those visits. Through our calls, we share laughter, comfort, and love. And together, we’re living all four Joyspan keys: growing, connecting, giving, and adapting.
Combining Agile Practices with Joyspan
For years, I’ve thought about writing another book on applying Agile principles to retirement. But with my eye issues, projects that involve heavy reading and writing have taken a back seat.
Reading Joyspan has given me the nudge I needed to get going again. Yes, my eyes are a challenge—but there are tools and workarounds: audiobooks, Kindle accessibility settings, dictation software, and yes, even ChatGPT for copyediting. I can make adjustments to keep doing what I love, while also staying hopeful that my doctors will help me find long-term solutions.
And when I compare my situation to what so many others are facing, I realize how fortunate I am. Kerry herself has dealt with major eye issues. My dear friend Craig, who passed from ALS in 2010, and my mother, who is navigating Alzheimer’s, have both taught me by example that joy is possible even in the face of profound challenges.
When I was younger, I remember thinking that ALS and Alzheimer’s were the worst diseases imaginable and prayed no one I loved would ever have to endure them. Life had other plans. And yet, walking alongside Craig and my mom has been an unexpected gift—teaching me about grace, resilience, and the unshakable possibility of joy.
For the past several months, my life (and most of my blog posts) have been about my Mom and her journey with dementia due to Alzheimer’s. While everyone’s journey and progression is going to be different, there is so much I’m learning, both about the disease, and about myself.
I don’t want to minimize the pain of this cruel disease. I know it’s heart-breaking. But, honestly, I feel closer to my mother than I ever have in my adult life.
While I still have fears about the future, here are some of the unexpected sweet memories I’ll carry with me about this time:
She still lights up when she sees me
“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel”
~Maya Angelou
I call Mom every day and I’m usually able to step her through getting on FaceTime so that we can see each other’s faces.
I’m always amazed at how much this act of seeing my face on the phone serves to excite her! She’s excited about seeing me in person, too, but she just really loves it that she can see me so clearly on the phone. “It’s like you’re right here in the room with me!” she’ll say.
I think a lot of this excitement is that we have the technology to do this and that she’s actually using it!
Screenshot of a call with Mom 7-20-25 – Her smile says it all!
But whether we sing a song together (something she loves to do) or I tell her about my day (sometimes multiple times) or I remind her of a family story, she absolutely loves our visits.
If I tell her a story that makes her laugh, I can share it again tomorrow — and she’ll laugh just as hard, as if hearing it for the first time.
Living in the moment – Truly!
Happiness self-help books tell us to “live in the moment” and not ruminate about things we can’t change. When you can’t remember much, you really can’t help but to “live in the moment.”
I know that it can be frustrating for Mom to have a feeling of fear or sadness and not really remember the origination of that feeling.
It’s been difficult to navigate her grief over people who have died. She doesn’t remember their deaths. When she asks about people who have died, I gently remind her, telling her how much she loved them and how comforted they were by her at the end of their lives.
When she says she can’t remember their actual deaths, I say something like, “I think our minds don’t want us to use up space with sad, painful memories. But let’s talk about the happy memories.”
Then I’ll tell her one of those memories that I know makes her smile, and she’ll soon forget her sadness.
I’ve seen how prolonged grief can be all-consuming on those of us with full memory. In some ways, I think my mom is spared that burden. Her mind gently shields her from the sharp edges of loss.
Letting her be the mother
I learned a lot by taking a class through CareBlazers about how family members can best care for someone with dementia.
In the month before moving Mom and Philip to a Senior Facility, I lived with them to help care for them. Even though there were times I needed to help or get Mom to do things she didn’t want to do, I was careful to not treat her as though I were the mother and she was the child.
She responded best when I would ask for her help. For example, I asked to borrow her blowdryer and my Dad’s old bathrobe. (He’d died in 2010, but she’d kept his huge bathrobe.) After I took a bath, she was so pleased to see me cozy in his oversized bathrobe. She came over to give me a big hug, knowing she’d provided not just hospitality, but a way for me to reconnect with my father, through his robe.
I still use every chance I can to remind Mom how much I respect and admire her. I admire her humor, her resilience, and her strength. When I tell her this on a FaceTime call, I see her face visibly fill with pride. She often will get tears in her eyes and say something like, “Oh, Yvette, that means so much to me. I love you so much.”
There’s More!
As I’m writing this, I keep thinking of more I’d like to say, but this post is getting long, so I’ll wait for a “Part 2.”
For now, I’ll end in saying that experiencing these calls and visits with Mom, while not always easy, have been so very rewarding.
The Party’s Over… But the Mission Continues
Our Longest Day Party may be over, and I’m thrilled to share that I’ve already exceeded my fundraising goal — thank you to everyone who donated or supported the cause
Even though the event has passed, the Alzheimer’s Association continues its vital work every day — and donations are always welcome.
Episode of Simpsons with robotic seals – My grandchildren shared this episode with me when I told them the story of their Great Grandmother’s new robotic cat.
Robotics and AI have really taken off in the past couple of years. I’m recognizing how much these advances in technology can help people with dementia. One of the sweetest surprises has been how much joy a robotic cat has brought my mom—and not just to her, but to many residents at her senior living community.
Mom, with her new robotic cat, Joy, sitting with her friend, Maggie
A robotic pet was first recommended to me by the Alzheimer’s Association. I was very worried about how Mom would cope with the loss of her (second) partner. Being a nurse, wonderful mother, and animal lover, Mom’s purpose has always been about taking care of others. The woman I spoke to said a robotic pet may help bring her some comfort.
Not a Great First Impression
I was skeptical, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to buy her a robo-cat. When I saw the company that put out these robotic pets was called “Joy for All,” I thought it might be some supernatural sign. Mom’s partner’s last name was “Joy.”
Originally, Mom had the reaction I’d expected. “I’m not so far gone that I don’t know the difference between a real cat and a toy!” she said. And then she added, “but it was a very nice gesture,” not wanting to hurt my feelings.
I told her I wasn’t trying to fool her. It’s just that it was a pretty cool “toy.” If she didn’t want it, though, I could send him back.
Robotic Cat is a Hit with Community
We brought the robotic cat down to dinner with us and everyone at the table loved it! It got so much attention that Mom started to rethink her position. She saw there was value in this “toy” after all!
Robotic cat, Joy, is a big hit with the residents
By the end of the next day, Mom not only decided to keep “Joy,” but I sent robotic cats to two of her friends who had become enamored with the cute futuristic pet.
So Many Benefits, So Much Joy
The robotic cat could purr, meow (or be put in silent mode), roll-over for a tummy scratch, and “pseudo-lick” its paws. Mom and her friends marveled at how easy it was to get the same kind of comfort and attachment you’d feel from a live cat, without any of the problems. “We should buy stock in the company that puts this out!” declared Mom.
Joy rolling over for a tummy-scratch
We talked about all the benefits of a robotic pet:
No need to feed them
No need to clean their poop
No worries about shedding
No worries they’ll run out when you’re not looking
No expensive visits to the vet
and the best thing, I reminded Mom, “you never have to worry about them getting sick or dying!”
Mom quickly replied: “We just better make sure I have plenty of batteries!”
Two Months Later
Over two months have passed since I gave Mom the robotic cat. She often talks about how much she enjoys him, often adding something like, “I don’t care who thinks its silly.”
I tell her, “No one thinks its silly, Mom. I’m glad you like him!”
This experience has made me reflect on what it means to feel connected—even to something inanimate. If it brings comfort, calm, or a sense of companionship, that’s real. That’s valuable.
I may just have to get one of those robotic cats for myself.
The Party’s Over… But the Mission Continues
Our Longest Day Party may be over, and I’m thrilled to share that I’ve already exceeded my fundraising goal — thank you to everyone who donated or supported the cause! 💜
Even though the event has passed, the Alzheimer’s Association continues its vital work every day — and donations are always welcome.
It’s not easy watching someone you love slowly slip into the fog of Alzheimer’s. Accepting my mom’s diagnosis has been one of the toughest things I’ve had to do. But through the grief, confusion, and changes, there have been some surprisingly sweet moments — and a lot of those have come through technology.
Since Dad died, I’ve played “tech coach” for Mom. Back in the day, she mastered email, Facebook, and even Zoom — which really came in handy during COVID. But as her memory declined, so did her ability to use devices. And with all the scams out there, it eventually became safer for her to go offline completely.
That left us with her landline. Unfortunately, that rang off the hook with robocalls and scams. Plus, she had to remember phone numbers — a major challenge these days. She’d often lose the paper they were written on, and it just added more stress to her day.
Enter Alexa’s Drop-In Feature
Now, we’ve found a new rhythm that works beautifully: I use the Amazon Alexa “Drop-In” feature like an intercom. Mom doesn’t have to push any buttons or answer anything — I just magically appear in her room like a friendly little voice assistant. Yes, the first time she was a tad freaked out.. “Who’s talking to me? Where are you?” But now she’s very used to it and can even tell Alexa to call us rather than having to use a phone at all.
I “drop in” every morning when she’s just waking up and again at night as she’s getting ready for bed. Sometimes she’s already snoozing by the time I call, but she’ll sleepily murmur something like, “It’s so nice to hear your voice,” or “It’s like you’re giving me a goodnight kiss.”
She also occasionally says something like, “Tomorrow we’ll be crossing the canal.” (Confusing Carlton Senior Living with a cruise ship is an idea I inadvertently planted in her head when I told her how much Carlton was like a cruise ship. But that’s OK! It is!)
We always end with a sweet “Good night! I love you!”
And Yes — We Still FaceTime!
Mom’s iPhone is ancient — I think it may have once belonged to my dad, who passed away in 2010 — but it still has FaceTime! Outgoing calls? Nearly impossible for her now. But if I prep her by asking her to find her phone first, she’s usually able to answer my call. And when she sees my face, she lights up.
“Isn’t technology wonderful?” she exclaims like it’s the first time she’s ever seen a video call.
One of the best parts of Alzheimer’s is that some joys and surprises happen over and over again.
On the mornings she’s scared because she doesn’t know where she is, she immediately calms down, once she sees me. I go through a quick little summary of her life starting from birth, her childhood, meeting Philip and dating him, meeting my Dad and marrying him, having 4 children (her favorite being her daughter, Yvette! j/k), reconnecting with Philip, ending with the move to Carlton last Thanksgiving.
She nods throughout and thanks me profusely. She seems to remember, and even if she’s still a little confused, she’s much more grounded. I stay on the phone with her while she gets dressed and ready for breakfast. Before long, she’s secure again with a care partner at Carlton.
Tiny Treasures from Home
Another fun surprise has been showing her familiar items I brought back to Colorado from her home.
This morning’s visit with Mom was one of the best. My granddaughter, Reneya, had spent the night and had helped me unpack Mom’s huge collection of miniatures.
This morning, I really wanted to do FaceTime so I could show Mom the miniatures and how much Reneya was enjoying them, too. But FaceTime didn’t work! It turned out somehow Mom’s phone had been put into airplane mode. After 30 minutes of stepping Mom through touching the various icons to debug and fix the problem, we finally had success!
And it was well worth it! Mom was so thrilled – she fixed the problem, she got to see and talk to both Reneya and me, and she got to see the miniatures from the dollhouse she loved for decades. We reminisced together – the tiny personalized mugs,
the piano, so much like ours,
the miniature afghan she’d made for the nursery.
Mom was smiling from ear to ear and said the call was like a wonderful gift.
Mother’s Day Joy
FaceTime call on Mother’s Day with the Strawberry Hat made from Mom’s leftover yarn
I had a similar experience with Mom on Mother’s Day.
I showed off the adorable strawberry hat my daughter-in-law made me for Mother’s Day — using leftover yarn from her crochet projects. Mom was completely charmed.
These moments matter. They ground her. They remind me that connection is still possible. And they give me reassurance, that even while I’m in Colorado, I can visit her.
In many ways, these virtual visits are even better than visiting in person. They allow Mom to continue her routine without disruption. They also help both of us know that she is OK without me there. She’s happy to see that I’m able to carry on with my life in Colorado, even while we’re visiting on the phone. I tell her how proud I am of her… how she is and always has been such a wonderful, strong example of a mother. I see the pride and happiness in her eyes.
The next day we may have the same conversation all over again. And that’s fine, because each time I feel grateful to see her smile and hear her “I love you” as we say goodbye.
Armed with purple-foiled dark chocolate kisses (brain food!), a camera, and my new cards, we entered the park. I told Scotty my easy goal: to talk to just one person about my mission.
Approaching strangers isn’t easy, especially for fundraising. I didn’t really expect to get any donations—but even without contributions, I hoped at least one person would be open to sharing a memory on video.
I ended up having success right out of the gate (literally). The security guards commented on my costume, and when I explained my mission, one guard shared that she had recently lost her mother, Star, to Alzheimer’s. “Every time I look at the sky,” she said, “I think of her.”
Before we left the park, I’d recorded two more videos—one from a group of kids sharing a wild memory about a stingray sting, and another, a touching story of brotherly love in the face of grief.
Having exceeded my goal, Scotty and I enjoyed the rest of the festival, making memories of our own.
That night, I uploaded the videos and created a YouTube playlist—a digital time capsule of sorts. My daughter-in-law, Stella, has even agreed to maintain it as part of my digital legacy.
Call to Action: Help Me Keep Memories Alive
Do you have a memory you’d like to share—about someone you’ve lost, a moment you treasure, or even a funny childhood story that still makes you smile?
Help me build a living library of moments that matter. You can record a short video (about 1 minute or less) sharing your memory and I’ll include it in my “Keeping Memories Alive” YouTube playlist.
This project supports Alzheimer’s awareness and honors the beauty and fragility of memory. Even if you can’t donate, sharing a memory helps us all stay connected to what matters most.
Once upon a time (OK, I still do this regularly), I donned a cape and became Super Carpe Diem Woman — champion of joy, optimism, resilience and goofy fundraising antics. My original mission? Fight ALS in honor of my friend Craig Dunham.
Now? I’m back. 💥 This time, I’m donning a purple-cape to raise money for the Alzheimer’s Association, in honor of my incredible mom.
Life lately has been both wonderful and difficult. I usually write about the wonderful — and yes, there’s still plenty of that — but feeling helpless while my Mom is struggling with so much has not been easy.
And now I’m continuing the joy journey — fundraising, running, traveling, and gaming my way toward something meaningful.
What’s next for Super Carpe Diem Woman
✅ April 27th, I’ll be taking a slow solo road trip from California to Colorado. (I hate to drive but turning it into a brain-building fundraiser is my attempt at making this trip more meaningful and fun.) ✅ I’m training to run the Boulder Bolder on May 26. If you see someone jogging slowly in costume and high-fiving strangers — it’s me. (Actually, I’ll fit right in!) ✅ On May 31, I’ll be attending the Alzheimer’s Purple Gala in Denver. Sparkly purple dress? Right up my alley! ✅ And on June 20, I’m hosting a Longest Day Party — because joy and laughter are pretty great memory-makers, too.
This is me, attempting to turn helplessness into action. Working on my own brain health and spreading the word about how you can improve yours. Trying to turn tough stuff into a tiny bit of joy.
Help bring an end to Alzheimer’s
Support the cause with a donation, a share, a memory, a cheer, or just a kind comment! You can follow along here on the blog and on all the usual social suspects. I’ll be posting updates, photos, stories, and undoubtedly some silly selfies. Here’s to finding joy and making new memories every day. 💜 http://act.alz.org/goto/KeepMemoriesAlive
In my last post, I shared the magic of discovering Valencia, thanks to my friend, David. But there was one special excursion I did on my own that got me out of my comfort zone: running a 5K in Turia Park.
Six years ago, I retired earlier than planned due to back issues. At the time, my doctor told me to stop running. I’d been a regular participant in the Bolder Boulder 10K, and I’d had a goal of winning an “Ageless Wonder” ribbon—awarded to runners whose 10K time is faster than their age. I was on track to do it at 60… until I had to stop running at 58. It felt like that goal had slipped away for good.
This winter has been a difficult one. My mom’s dementia continues to progress. My son, a psychologist with the VA, has been dealing with painful professional turmoil. The political situation in the U.S. leaves me feeling helpless and frustrated. There’s so much suffering—close to home and in the broader world—and here I am, vacationing in Spain. I felt gratitude, yes, but also guilt.
When hard things are out of my control, exercise has always been healing for me.
“All Levels Welcome: Whether you run fast, slow, or even crawl, everyone is encouraged and no one is left behind.”
Yay! This was like the Universe giving me the perfect event.
I have plans to run the Bolder Boulder 10K again and it’s only 6 weeks away.
My quiet goal for the 5K? To finish in 32 minutes and 30 seconds. If I could manage that, it would give me the push I need to train for the “Ageless Wonder” goal – running the 10K in under 65 minutes..
Getting There Was a Win
Finding the meeting spot on my own felt like its own victory. I have a notoriously poor sense of direction (I’m an expert in getting lost!), but thanks to a crash course in Spanish transit from David and excellent directions in the Meetup description, I arrived. Nervous, yes, but proud of myself.
Everyone at the start looked so young and so fast. I wondered what I was doing there, a 65-year-old American, slightly broken, slightly out of place. Especially as someone feeling deeply conflicted about what’s happening back home. But instead of judgment, I was met with kindness. A beautiful woman named Teresa introduced herself and shared some of her story with me.
At the Back of the Pack, the Best People Run
Teresa told me she’d had an ACL injury and would be running slowly with her friend Ged. “Perfect,” I thought. I joined them, and off we went.
They chatted, I huffed. I needed a couple 30-second walk breaks (I blamed the Galloway method of running.) Ged and Teresa slowed down and I caught up. And for the first time in my life, I ran past the finish line without even realizing it. The conversation was so interesting that I was distracted from my usual end-of-race exhaustion.
My watch said 32 minutes and 32 seconds—two seconds off my goal. (Sure, there was a questionable pause in my stopwatch, but I’ll take the win.) Close enough!
More Than Miles
After the run, a group went out for breakfast. I ended up in deep conversation with Ged—about politics, about travel, about what’s happening in the world. It felt like one of those rare talks where you don’t need to explain where you’re coming from. He and Teresa shared their WhatsApp contacts, and I left not just proud of my run, but feeling genuinely seen and connected.
I keep thinking how rare and beautiful it is to meet people you instantly click with, especially while traveling solo. That kind of connection lingers.
Solo, Not Alone
It’s easy to think travel is about checking off sights and snapping pictures. But the real landmarks, for me, are emotional. That morning, I gained more than a 5K finish—I gained confidence. Friendship. A sense of belonging. Proof that I’m not done dreaming or striving, even if my pace is slower than it used to be.
And Teresa and Ged? They reminded me how inspiring it is to see people face change, injury, and uncertainty with joy and curiosity. We are all carrying something. Grief. Loss. Pain. The wisdom is in carrying it together.
The Ribbon Doesn’t Matter
I may or may not run the Bolder Boulder in under 65 minutes this year. Actually, after a week of overtraining, I started having back pain again, so I know I have to take it slowly. The real win was this: I ran in a new country, with new people, and I felt alive. I felt strong. And I felt hope.
So whatever my speed, I’ll keep moving. Keep connecting. Keep showing up, wherever I am, in whatever body I’m in.
Because this much I know: It’s not about how fast we go, it’s about getting in the race.
A few weeks ago, in this blog post, I shared that GGSC recently sponsored a Love Grant RFP, and thanks to the many uplifting February newsletters focusing on love, I found all kinds of inspiration for expanding what I could do.
Rather than reinvent the wheel with a new nonprofit, I realized I could promote existing organizations and volunteer opportunities—bringing in my own special niche: solo aging and even incorporating my Agile expertise. I’ve always thought it would be cool to combine two of my passions: Love and Agile!
My Love Grant Proposal
I’ve never written up a proposal before. Once I saw all that was required in the GGSC Love Grant RFP, I knew that even filling out the proposal would be time-consuming. Given that one of the major factors in receiving a grant is “Reach” and my audience is rather small, I know it’s very unlikely I’ll win this grant.
However, just completing the proposal gave me the kick in the pants I needed to put a plan in place for partnering with organizations that align with my vision.
Agile Love: Embracing Change & Connection for Solo Agers
Love evolves as we age, yet many older singles feel invisible or disconnected. This project blends storytelling with Agile principles—adaptation, feedback, and continuous learning—to help aging singles cultivate meaningful love in all its forms. Through interviews, essays, and engaging discussions, I’ll explore how embracing change fosters connection. Partnering with AARP, Grateful Living, and others, I aim to shift narratives around aging, love, and community.
Reviving Carpe Diem Connections Podcast
Podcast Revival
Applying for the GGSC Love Grant also motivated me to do something I’ve been wanting to do for awhile now: Revive my Carpe Diem Connections podcast! This season, I’ll focus on Grateful Living, inspired by the work of Grateful.org. Their resources and daily gratitude practices align perfectly with my mission of embracing life fully.
Each episode will explore how gratitude can transform our lives—especially in retirement. I’ll be talking with guests who embody grateful living, sharing personal stories, and giving practical ideas for cultivating gratitude in everyday moments.
I got permission from Grateful.org to share their articles. For now, I’m just keeping the podcasts short and sweet. I’m still traveling and don’t have any fancy equipment. I also have to relearn the podcasting process, but I was pleased that restarting was easier than expected.
As time goes on, I’ll be looking for guests—particularly solo agers—who have unique perspectives on building love, connection, and gratitude in their lives. If you or someone you know has an inspiring story to share, let’s connect!
Join Me on This Love and Gratitude Journey!
This year has started out hard for a lot of people in this country. I believe this has been the most divided I’ve seen our nation. I’ve felt discouraged and helpless. However, these past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of inspiration. I’d love for you to join me in this journey of spreading love and gratitude. Here’s how you can be part of it:
Follow the podcast! I’ll be sharing updates on Carpe Diem Connections and my blog.
Try a gratitude practice—check out Grateful.org for daily inspiration.
Be a guest on the podcast! If you’re a solo ager with a story to share about love, connection, and gratitude, I’d love to hear from you.
Tomorrow, it’s official! I earn my rightful place in the ranks of the wise and wonderful elders of the world. Turning 65 is a milestone, one that makes me reflect on the road I’ve traveled, the unexpected turns, the moments I got completely lost, and the gratitude I feel for still being on this journey.
Leading up to turning 65, my plan had been to have a big, meaningful Thanksgiving gathering with my kids at my house. I had all my ducks in a row – end-of-life materials in order. I thought I’d give some grand matriarchal speech about how much I loved each of them.
In the end, I didn’t end up with a big speech, thinking I might just do it for my 65th birthday. Now I’m even late on my blog post, let alone a speech.
Instead, I hope I can express my love every day in little ways. Texts, calls, visits, and laughter.
Laugh with me in life
There’s a quote from Dr. Suess that says “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” I’m adapting that… “Don’t cry when I die. Let’s laugh together in life!”
Right now, I’m spending time with my son, Scotty, at Edwards Air Force Base.
I’ve also been visiting my mom in Sacramento, whose journey with dementia continues to show me the power of perseverance, humor, and grace. In fact, I am declaring her this year’s Carpe Diem Day Superhero.
Watching her face the challenges of memory loss with resilience has made me appreciate every moment, every connection, and every story that shapes our lives.
I’ve also gotten to spend some high-quality time with my brother, Neal, and my high school friend, Danny, with my frequent visits to Sacramento.
Neal and Danny enjoy some of my surprise birthday cake from Stella & Matt
Legacy Video Update
Which brings me to my big birthday project: a Legacy Video. Back in 1995, when I was in my 30s, I recorded a biographical videos with my family. Watching it now, I see how much has changed—who I was then, who I’ve become, and how my understanding of life, love, and getting lost has evolved.
So, I’m working on an updated version. It’ll be a mix of gratitude, humor, and reflections on what I’ve learned along the way. I don’t know exactly what the next phase of life will hold, but I do know I’m entering it with bold energy and appreciation for every twist and turn.
Instead of a big 65th birthday party, I’d love something different—connection. If you feel like reaching out, I’d love a call, a message, or just to hear how life is treating you. That would be the best birthday gift of all.
