Mother's Day is almost here. 

I thought it would be fun to remember some of the things our mothers and grandmothers used to say.

Things we now find ourselves saying.  I wish I could add the voices, the faces, the places.  I leave that to you.

• Just because everybody's doing it doesn't make it right.
• How do you know you don't like it, you haven't tried it.
• You'll thank me for this one day.
• This isn't a hotel you know.     
• Just wait 'til you have children of your own.            
• Were you born in a barn?
• You'd talk the hind legs off a donkey.
• Because I'm your mother-that's why!           
• Money doesn't grow on trees.
• Mind your manners.  Don't talk with your mouth full.    
• To our constant "I wish" - the response: If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
• Idle hands are the devil's work tools.  
• Here -put yourself to good use.                                                         

The list is a long one.   Add your favorites, and share.

And so ... To mothers everywhere ... Thanks for the memories.  They live on.

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A few weeks ago, I was a guest at a Rotary Club meeting.  The speech title was How Did I Get here? 

Hearing the talk made me ask the same question. Reflections took me back to the day I arrived in the United States, October 13, 1952.  I was 19 years old.  Coming from a small town in Lancashire I was agog at the noise, the buildings, the strange accents.  It was love at first sight and sounds.

What mostly filled my memory bank though, was the kindness of strangers.  Starting in the Diner at the docks.  I’ll just have tea, I tell the burly server.  A tall glass of tea with ice appeared.  Oh, I want hot tea.  No, you don’t, said my new friend. Our tea is worse than your coffee. Here, this one’s on me … welcome to America.  He poured a cup of black coffee, and that’s still my favorite drink.

And so, life continued. Strangers helping me navigate subways. Kind employers hiring me despite my still thinking in pounds, shillings, and pence.  The young man at the Y sharing his lunch when my plate was sparse. A lifetime of kindness on parade in my brain.

When I ask myself – How Did I Get Here?  The answer is always, ‘through the kindness of strangers – and friends.’   And I silently thank you.

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The message below is from Steve Cole.  Steve is a leader at Veterans Bridge Home, one of my most admired organizations.  The message hit a special appreciation button for me, and I asked permission to share.The response, true Military style, was 'Yes ma'am' ... Enjoy. Appreciate. Celebrate.

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Cheers to the "Brats"



April is the Month of the Military Child. The symbol of the "brat" is a dandelion, a flower that spreads on the wind and thrives wherever its seeds land.

This month we honor the incredible strength, resilience, and spirit of military children . These young heroes often face unique challenges from frequent moves and school changes to long separations from deployed parents—all while showing remarkable adaptability and courage.

Military children may not wear a uniform, but they serve in their own way. They stand tall through transitions, support their families, and often grow up with a deep sense of duty, community, and pride. Whether they’re attending new schools, making new friends, or saying goodbye to familiar faces, military kids navigate it all with strength beyond their years.

At VBH, we serve service members, veterans, AND their families (including their kids). Throughout April, we encourage everyone to show support by wearing purple on “Purple Up! Day,” a visible reminder that we stand behind these young members of our military families. Purple symbolizes all branches of the military—a blend of Army green, Coast Guard blue, Air Force blue, Marine red, and Navy blue.

To all the military children out there: we see you, we celebrate you, and we are grateful for all that you do.

Be the Bridge!

Steve Cole

Veterans Bridge Home

Earlier this week I had the privilege of attending a luncheon honoring 14 young women. They had completed a nine-month Leadership program.  This, in addition to other studies, full-time jobs, and in some cases children.  They were an impressive group.

Their varied and obvious career skills were on quiet display.   And yet, what especially caught my ear was how often they referred to ‘discoveries’ we more senior women take for granted.

Their discoveries included, Bet On Yourself.  Know Your Worth. Raise your hand. Give credit to others. Show Up. Ask for help.  Courage is not the absence of fear-it’s the ability to act despite our fear.

 The big gift each of these extraordinary young women seemed to take away was: What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters – compared to what lies within us

For senior women, our gift was the realization that – in many areas of life, the more things change, the more they stay the same.  Which means – because we know something doesn’t mean everyone does.  Risk it.  Share the lessons.

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Some years ago, I asked my sister Kathleen, in her 80’s then, what is the one thing you hope you never lose?’

The response: I hope I never lose the curiosity of a child. She never did.  When I hear adults say to a child, ‘stop asking so many questions,” I think of Kathleen’s wise wish.

There used to be two signs in my office.  One said “Life belongs to the learners.  The learned wake up one day and find they live in a world that no longer exists.”  That day has arrived. The other read ‘There has been an alarming increase in the things I know nothing about.’  A reminder to ask questions.  Talk with the new knowledge seekers.

Young children, I’m told, ask from 200 to 400 questions a day.  That number diminishes as they grow older. Why?  Too many ‘stop asking so many questions, or ‘because I said so,’ responses?

More ‘mature’ friends will remember the show, “Kids Say the Darndest Things.’  I changed that to ‘Kids Ask the Darndest Questions.’  My notebook of our ‘kids’ questions is a fun read on a rainy day.  Asking questions is how we learn.  And, my opinion: Answers from a parent or friend are likely to be remembered more than answers from Google.

So, what’s your question?  Mine is, ‘how do I keep up with these smart kids?’ Suggestions appreciated.

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Vert was a test ... did you pass?

Oops .   It was supposed to stop at  CURIOUS. The added 'ity' was the magic 'finish the word...'  AND of course vert poor editing by yours truly.

It's a very American thing. In conversations we ask … what do you do? What did he do?  And usually, we’ll hear what their job is or was.

Recently someone asked, ‘what did your father do?’   I could have said he was like Loretta Lynn’s Dad.  I resisted. He was more than that.  Yes, he worked in the coal mines.  His job was to dynamite the coal face. Blast out the precious black diamonds.

That’s not who he was. He was a storyteller. A singer of Irish songs.  A champion of our goals. A hard worker.  A teacher.  He was all those things and more.  So, what did he do?  He taught by example.   Of course he wasn’t perfect.  That’s a good thing. 

Love, admiration, and friendships happen by knowing the person.  Never because of the person’s job. It’s how that person makes us feel.

To answer the question: What did your father DO? He made me feel special.  That’s what good friends, good parents, and good teachers do.

Next time I’m tempted to ask – ‘what do you do?’  I’ll try to remember to say, ‘so, tell me about yourself.’

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Today was one of those days.  One of those days when you say -   OK, maybe you should go back to bed; and start the day over. We've all had them.

It starts simply.   I saw a lotion-looking lump on the bathroom counter.  Can't waste that.

Scooped it up, rubbed it on my face.  It was toothpaste.

Scurry to the kitchen for a coffee revival.  No coffee. It had not perked.  Check the outlet.  Check the breakers.  Panic. I had never poured water into the machine.

Rush to my trainer's.  No trainer in sight.  I call her cell. Oh, your appointment is not until 11:30.  I throw up my hands.

Then I remembered advice my mother shared decades ago.  A wise, quiet, woman of deep faith.  She said, 'This is God's way of telling you to slow down, Joan. Pay attention to what matters.'

And so, I asked my grandson and his wife if I could come 'play' and enjoy my twin great grandbabies.  An enthusiastic 'yes.'  My day changed.  My brain is back in gear. My smile is back in place.  Paying attention to what matters is a game changer. Perhaps even a life changer.

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Today was Youth Sunday at our church. 

It was special for several reasons.More family cheerleaders in the pews. Proud to see their youngsters.   Likely saying to themselves – well, maybe we did a few things right.

If you did not have a youngster participating; you still felt a sense of pride.  A sense of hope.  A sense that these young people care.  Care enough to make a difference in the way our world continues.  They made me believe we can count on them

Two weeks ago, I applauded ten college students being honored for their scholastic, community, and business accomplishments.  Several had graduated, others already in the business world.  Each honoree was focused on what they can contribute.

Listening to these still unfolding journeys, seeing the determination, focus, and what's do-able was inspiring.  Like most my age, I trust and verify.  I trust these young people.  They are well on their way to verifying that trust.

The take-away from spending time with our young colleagues: We are in good hands. I’m a believer.

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