On January 1, 2023, this post appeared. That morning, one year ago, as I contemplated the forthcoming year, I announced what I wanted. And it surprised me. I’d asked this question of myself quite a few times since discovering the yellowed cardboard with my mother’s particular penmanship after her death. Nothing I’d announced had hit just right. Mostly, I answered with things I thought I should want, or things that my inner Facebook-Ad-Life-Coach thought I should want: “To work with famous clients who are doing good in the world, like Michelle Obama, Greta Thunberg, Doctor’s Without Borders, Kamala Harris, and Malala Yousafzai.” It sounded great, to reach high as I entered the Empty Nest years. But it didn’t feel great. It felt superficial. I’m already working with people and organizations who expertly, thoughtfully, passionately, doggedly, make positive change for us all. I am constantly amazed, challenged, awakened, and thrilled by their purpose, their words, their vital work in the world. I am honored to work with them. I am grateful. It is more than enough. So, on the first day of 2023 the surprising thing I found myself announcing, out-loud, to the quiet morning kitchen was::…Read on.

What would happen if we announced what we wanted? Out loud. Would the sky fall down? Would we stun people? Would we stun ourselves? Would relationships change? Would our lives move in a different direction? Why are we so reluctant to simply say what we want? Do we even know what we want? Announcing is not demanding or even asking, it’s just putting our wants into words. A statement. And yet…My mother was the kind of person who would stop on the highway to pick up garbage, who eschewed milk in plastic bottles, and re-used wrapping paper year after year. She also saved all of those pieces of cardboard the dry-cleaners used in men’s shirts in the 70s. Months after she died, I found myself in a room stacked with 61 boxes sent from her house in Cleveland. Boxes filled with photos, postcards, birth certificates, old passports. And one piece of dry-cleaner cardboard with her distinctive handwriting and the words…Read on.