A celebration of a great one, and the loss of a great one

I remember my first milestone birthday. I don't remember a party or my gift, but I remember having a profound thought. I vividly recall waking up on my tenth birthday and saying, "Wow, I have lived ten whole years on this earth. My age is now double digits."

Today, my grandson, Nicholas, is ten years old. I am thrilled with this wonderful little boy who asked me to help him get his "book" published. He had hand written an entire episode of Finding Big Foot, which he had seen the night before on TV. When I explained the word, plagiarism, he cried. When I showed him how to write his own version and fictionalize the stories, he beamed when I praised his word choices and ideas.

I want to keep him this age forever. He has grandiose dreams.

"Nana, I want to be a professional hockey player, but if that doesn't work, I want to be a writer. I know I can't do both, because I wouldn't have enough time."

I told him, "You'll find time to do all the things you love."

"Then I will be a hockey player AND a writer!"

His comment inspired me to sit down and write an article about making time to write. I had planned on querying Writers' Journal. Sadly, I learned the magazine folded this week.

Nicholas was thrilled with the birthday cake that his mom decorated with our home team hockey logo, a blue note.


He received a Wayne Gretzky Blue's jersey and an autographed hockey stick, plus tickets for tonight's Monster Truck Jam, and more money than I ever received for my birthdays.


The rain did not keep him and his buddies indoors. They laced their skates and took to the cul de sac. They played until they were breathless and red in the face.

Physical exercise is to the body, what writing is to the mind.