I am a 12th generation American. That’s a lot of blood committed to the notion of a free and democratic society. I am very proud to be an American. Other countries may throw rocks and shoes at us, but we are always the country that comes to help when disaster strikes unexpectedly. I volunteer with Red Cross. Americans always rise.
I always had a tremendous amount of energy and then, in my mid- forties, I was slammed with physical health problems that brought me to a screetching halt. I had been used to running and walking two miles everyday and going to the gym. I felt sorry for myself as I existed on a sofa for six weeks. One day, it dawned on me, I could create a new life, and that being a size four was no longer important to who I was.
I dusted off my frustration and finally moved to the dining room table where I could put my feet up and paint. I have written two books, unpublished. I have learned to watercolor. I have written a new business plan. I am bigger, big deal….. Rise.
Sun Valley was a memorable vacation experience I had with my Dad, way back in the early 1970’s. Sun Valley had not quite become the ubber-hip vacation spot that it is now. Back then there were lots of sheep, cowboys and hippies (yeah the real ones) and we had taken a trip to look at a home my Dad had been offered to purchase. An acquaintance knew my Dad was just crazy about skiing, and offered him a home for the princely sum of 18k at 3% interest. (That was alot of money for our family). Dad didn’t buy that home on the hill behind Dollar mountain.
Dad passed away a few months ago, but before passing away, he asked me to take another trip to Sun Valley, just to remember our trip, and to re-visit a certain spot that he fell in love with. We had had our picnic by the river at that spot, and had watched some sheep grazing near the river. It was the most difficult trip I’ve ever taken. Also the best. RISE, RISE, RISE