AKA #lentphotoaday April 18th, prompt word is “REMEMBER”
Luke 24:6-7: “He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee.” This passage reminds the disciples that Jesus is not dead but has risen, echoing the message of his resurrection.
The above picture is from Easter in Florida, 2017. I found this picture and I was the first time in years, I sat down to look at all the images and really REMEMBERed this awesome vacation. We went to a beautiful Easter service at my parent’s church at First Presbyterian in Naples. This was the last trip we took to Florida as a family. The service was gorgeous. There was a packed house and stunning flowers everywhere. The room was packed with Lily Pulitzer, Hermes, Vineyard Vines, massive waves of seersucker and loads of Khaki. Those wealthy Presbys really know how to put on a fancy Easter.
My parent’s last home they lived in there was at the Ritz compound and the club they belonged to was exquisite. They lived in a few places over the years in Naples and we were fortunate to be able to bring the kids a handful of times. We didn’t have much money to travel but my dad was always generous, making our trips over the years Christmas presents for the family. This last trip was extra. We lived liked kings that vacation. I remember work was really crazy for Mike and it was good that he was able to get away and relax. Charlie was really struggling with pre-transition anxiety and the ocean air did us all good. We felt vey blessed to have this time to be together as a family and with my dad and stepmom.
Sometime this above beach day, I got a little weird bug bite on my stomach in the water. Four days later, I was clinging to life with six IV’s in me, almost dying of an aggressive staph infection. I would spent the next five weeks with a wound vac in my stomach. Egads! My health has been erratic ever since. Who knew that day, after such beach perfection, chaos would ensue and it would also be our last in Florida together with my dad.
My kids have always eyerolled at all the pictures I take. But honestly, thank God I did. Being able to look back and REMEMBER has been one of the great pleasures in my life. In the hustle and bustle of life’s grind, it’s essential to remember that we have had a really great, blessed life together as a family.
Easter is always a time for family, but it is the commemoration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ that gathers us all together. We are grateful for his sacrifice, while offering hope for eternal life.
At the tender age of twenty-four, Penny Atwater did what she promised her father she would never do; she followed a guy to Dallas. He sensationally sucked. His name was Richard and he was vile, but she didn’t see it. She was super in love. It wasn’t a quick decision that she made. They had gone to college together and started as good friends. After graduation, her best friend group formed a very irreverent and cheeky Chicago Storefront theater company. They all spent most of their days and nights together, obsessively clinging to each other as wolf packs often do. Richard would normally be her very last choice in men. She didn’t find him very physically attractive. He was pudgy and not very masculine. He was also a bit of a braggart, but he was the most talented actor in the lot and funny as hell. That rated him pretty high in her book. In those days, he kept her constantly laughing. The gang loved to fake hate Richard. As much as he tried to convince everyone that he was a winner, they all knew he was full of crap. They just put up with his bullshit because he was the best actor they had on the roster. Penny wore blinders to his shortcomings and was happy for the attention. It’s important to know that before Richard, Penny had relationships with two out of the five available guys that were in the company. One was just a fling buddy, using each other out of boredom on random drunk nights in between relationships. The most recent love fail was significant and it was with Richard’s best friend, Harry. Penny and Harry had been lovers for a while, but kept their escapades on the very downlow. Or so they thought. Everyone eye-rolled at their constant flirting whenever they were in the same room and they knew that Harry spent some late nights down in Penny’s apartment. She was deeply in love with him, but that didn’t matter because he didn’t love her…not in that way…and he eventually broke her to bits.
In reality, even before she romantically committed to either of them, she was kind of friend-dating them both. They were a mighty threesome and they went everywhere together. Both men doted on her and treated her like a little doll. Penny’s bookends, they all used to joke. In some ways, there was an unspoken competition between the men; the prize was Penny’s smile and laughter. When lines started getting crossed between Penny and Harry, Richard pretended like he didn’t know anything. This affair lasted over the span of six months. Eventually, Harry got bored of the sexy side of Penny. He called the romance off after he met a redheaded actress who had an apartment full of five cats. He was smitten while Penny was quietly devastated.
That is exactly the moment when Richard swooped in for the kill. He didn’t care that he was sloppy seconds; he was just happy he won her. Even after they coupled up, they still remained super close with Harry and the transition seemed strangely seamless. She just kind of morphed over from Harry to Richard like a wafting cloud. The new couple quickly became obsessed with each other. Within a matter of months, Harry moved in with redhead cat lady and Richard moved into Penny’s bottom floor apartment of their theater company two-flat Chicago Ravenswood compound. He might of been her 20th boyfriend ever, but at that time, she thought he was the most special. She was certain he was The One.
They lived very artistically, very free, very poor, but very happy. There were dinner parties, Breakfast at Tiffany’s cocktail-like vibes where everyone would come over after shows. There was always a play in rehearsal or in a performance run. If there wasn’t a current production, they were writing and workshopping a new script. There was always a revolving door of performers coming and going when it came to the Paulina House. It was in a prime location for the prime of their young adult lives. It was a half a block from the El stop and steps away from the laundromat and some great local bars. They were directly across the street from Johnny the Nazi’s bar, a favorite hang to play pool and buy cheap drinks. They were usually the only people in there. They didn’t know Johnny was a Nazi, until they learned he was a Nazi, and then they stopped going there to support the Nazi. They had real life Riverview Park carnies that originated from The Appalachians to the left of them and jokers to the right. Well…behind. The joker was actually this one really odd fellow named Jerry who was also in the troupe. He lived in the back coach house. He smelled funny and always had some questionable guests sneaking in and out of his house in the wee hours, but he was funny too, so they put up with his shenanigans. Penny’s best friend’s Cassandra and her husband Clive lived upstairs. They were like the den parents of the troupe. They spent most of their communal time in Cassie and Clive’s living room, drinking copious amounts of chianti, chain-smoking Marlboro lights and listening to people fight over which was Shakespeare’s great monologue.
Like a whisper, Penny and Richard, as a couple, slowly started to stray. He was very controlling of her, orchestrating her every move. It became harder to hide it. He thought for her, spoke for her, made all of her decisions. She even looked at him when she would order her food. No one in the group was comfortable witnessing it. It became clear to everyone that something strange was going on with them and that Penny was losing her shine. Cassie and Clive and a few others tried to talk to her about it, but she refused to see it. Angry that everyone was passing judgement on Richard and not understanding their relationship, she really pulled away from them all, even Cassandra. Years later, Penny and Cassie would refer to this time in their lives as “The Diaspora” or “The Time When Richard Kidnapped Penny’s Soul”. Even after a few months of hardly any contact, it came as a shock to everyone when one day, out of the blue, Penny and Richard made the big announcement. They were moving to Texas.
AKA #lentphotoaday, April 15th word of the day is FOUND.
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch; like me! I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind but now I see.” A hymn by John Newton
If I had a penny for how many times I have sung this song, mostly at funerals, I would have a couple bucks. But no seriously. I really have been singing it at funerals and celebrations of life since I was a teenager. It’s the saddest superpower ever. It’s also one thing I can do to help, to comfort, to give back to those who are mourning. One of the worst days of my whole life was singing it at the graveside of my dear friends’ child. There are not enough tears in the world to drown that pain, but I hope I helped soothe with a song. I cry as I write this. Ugh.
I actually walked by her place of rest the other day. I was also recently just there witnessing the burial of another friend and it was also a hard day. Sunday, My husband and I were on a walk and I was not feeling the greatest on the way back, so I didn’t stop in to see her at her gravesite, but I thought lovingly of her and reminisced about her beautiful smile and spirit. It hurts your heart all over again to think of it. I’ll make the walk back tomorrow and go visit her resting place. I’ll never, none of us, understand. It’s up to me to work through my personal heartache with losing those who we love, to at least find comfort in the fact that they are within the realms of the Kingdom of Heaven and they are at peace.
The most popular reference using the word “FOUND” is from Jeramiah 15:16 stating “Thy words were found, and I did eat them; and thy word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of mine heart: for I am called by thy name, O Lord God of hosts.” It’s the revelation of finding absorbing and internalizing God’s word; laying the the rock and the foundation. I gravitate to Amazing Grace and the meaning of the hymn, where it speaks of a journey from despair to hope, finding peace and joy along the way.
I once was lost, but now am FOUND. Was blind, but now I see. I’m getting there.
Food is comfort. Restaurants provide the comfort food and warm environment. As with my eldest when he went to college in Iowa, for four years we established places that we loved to visit when we went to see him. We always tried new things when we would head to Davenport, but we had a couple mainstays that just make our four years there special.
Now my youngest is painfully far away from us in Seattle. For context, we live in a little lake town northwest of Chicago. She is 2/3’s of her way through her freshman year at University of Washington. I definitely found my happy place in the Seattle food scene. We first found SWeL. when I took her out last spring to see the school. It was a chaotic little last minute visit. It was the tenth and last school in which she was accepted and it was a bit of a wild card for her. She was looking at all schools Northeast. But when she got in, we quickly made wayyyyyy too expensive last minute plan flights, I found a pineapple-themed hotel blocks away from the campus and off we went. It was a 60-hour turnaround and we were feeling the heat. A 5:00am flight from Chicago, five hour layover in Denver, landing in the never before-seen beautiful Seattle, Uber to the pineapple hotel and by 4pm ,we were walking on the beautiful campus in the middle of the stunning CHERRY BLOSSOMS.
Sold.
No seriously, we were not scheduled for the official tour until the next morning, but let’s just say, we were already buying swag. We desert-crawled back to the hotel, hungry and exhausted. I was tempted to order a pizza to the room and call it a night, but we were, after all, in one of the top foodie cities in the country, so we needed to make the effort. Not going to like, I Yelped. I love Yelp. Literally never had steered wrong. Searched something like “Top 10 restaurants near me”. SWeL. popped up right away. I saw yummy martini’s, a great vegetarian selections for my daughter, the reviews were super positive and I think it sold me almost immediately at “Come feel cozy…”
SWeL. is in the Fremont district. We didn’t know what that was. (It’s now our favorite area and we have stated there twice in VRBO’s.) We fell in love the minute we walked in, because it’s SUCH a vibe. It’s lush and romantic with the appropriate mood lighting. The owner greeted us and he was charming. There is some fun and suble tongue and cheeks nods on the menu, which I appreciate, and the food was spectacular. I had an excellent French 75 and we shared one of the best calamari dishes I’ve ever had. My daughter loved her shitake pappardelle and I was equally obsessed with my pork chop. Of course we had to end with the homemade chocolate chip cookies!
Special mention, and this feels a tiny bit weird saying this, but they had the best smelling bathroom I have ever been in and I tried to figure it out, but I couldn’t figure it out Was it a candle, soap, magic? I’m going back a fourth time in June, so I am going to get down to the nitty gritty.
Yes, we went back a second and a third time. When it was time to bring my daughter in September for her freshman year, my husband and another one of our children came with me, and I insisted we go back to SWel. First we went with with the kids and everyone loved it as much as I. The calamari was as excellent as before, the expresso martini’s were next level and other highlights were the beet salad, pancetta pizza, a delicious fish special and the chicken breast. Someone ordered the cookies and the gelato was a huge hit. My family was successfully sucked in as well.
A couple months later, we headed out in November for UW parent’s weekend. This time we came with another one of our kids. After a huge day of sight-seeing, our son was exhausted, so my husband took just me back to SWeL. for a great date night. We actually walked from our VRBO and we had the best Black Manhattans. We had a romantic and lovely meal at the bar, the staff as kind and accommodating as all the other times. We look forward to going back next month and making it a staple for the next four years our our Seattle experience. 200 out of 10 stars for us. Thank you, SWel and see you in June.
#lentphotoaday weekend catch-up for April 12th, 13th and 14th “SILENT,” “CELEBRATE,” and “PREPARED“
I guess I can’t really get myself out of Saturday’s prompt by being SILENT. (insert cheeky grin). This is my journey and it’s pointless for me not to be on the actual ride, so off we go.
There is “A time to keep silent, and a time to speak” – Ecclesiates 3:7.
I have spent my whole life getting into trouble being too vocal. Mostly oversharing. I think it’s a battle of self-control. Proverbs 17:28 says “Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise; when he closes his lips, he is deemed intelligent.” Focusing on being interested in listening, instead of talking is always good practice. In my younger years, I think it might have come off as more cute and a little kooky. Now, it definitely puts people off and I think it’s one of the reasons that, particularly right now, I’m short in the friend department. I’m nothing if not self-aware. That’s a 2025 goal to find a new friend. I am putting in the work and the reflection and I do think opening myself up to be more spiritual is part of the process. It’s just a symptom of being lonely. It can be corrected. For starters, I have been working on trying not to share every little feeling that I have with every little conversation I have. It’s been a practice that I have been working on for at least a year. Sometimes I think it backfires because I think it just makes me come off as a little weird and distant. I’m still tweaking it, as I continue to be a work in progress. Getting out more, focusing on others, searching for ways to put myself into the land of the living is another perfect spring goal. In the SILENT moments, my heart, my ears and my mind remain open to everything.
In our current political environment, it’s hard to find the CELEBRATIONS. But they are all around us, we just have to open up our eyes to find them. Birthdays and anniversaries happen around us every day. Last week I got to celebrate two amazing birthdays of two out of three of my outstanding children. These were CELEBRATIONS that were responses to God’s gifts of the blessings we have in our lives. My oldest turned a quarter of a century and that’s certainly a humdinger. My baby turned 19 and while she was a thousand miles away at college, I worked really hard to make sure she felt celebrated, even when she was not with her family for the first time in her life. I sent her a cheesecake and she loved it. I went out of my comfort zone and went to a Comicon show with my son; loved every minute. Meet the world’s newest D&D fan. I figured out workarounds to make their celebrations happen and being to CELEBRATE joy and thanks of one of God’s many great gifts.
Lots of different meanings in the Bible for PREPARED. It can mean preparing for events coming, as in spiritual readiness or just simply packing a good backpack to be ready to do God’s good work. I would like to think that packing that bag and figuring out what to put in it is kind of part of my journey here. I am exploring what tools and supplies I may need to become a better spiritual version of myself. Noah built the Ark, The Wise versions prepared their lamps, Israelites preparing for Passover. This way, when the time comes that I need to call on my spirituality for help and guidance, I am PREPARED.
I’m working my way through this day. The above angel mark was thick today and it was mighty. Before I sat on my back stoop and watched the sun set on a beautiful night, I had a hard day. I was extra lonely. My husband is out of town and we are usually our own bosom buddies when one of us is not working. Some things happened today that really made me sad. Life transitions are being clunky, but I know living here in this medicinal bubble of a home is keeping me afloat.
John 14:27. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
Many of us have heard a variation of this a million times during the gospel. You didn’t hear it always on the weekly rotation, but it was usually in the go-to options of the starting line-up.
The Biblical concept of PEACE encompasses total wholeness, total health, total welfare; the total of God’s blessings. PEACE is sprinkled ALLLLL over the Bible. It’s a strong vibe. Obviously because when there is chaos we seek to find PEACE.
This next one is taking up extra rental space in my head right now:
John 16:22 So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.
I’m tired.
Someone I love called me today upset. They missed their parent they recently lost. Boy, do I get it. It got us to talking about the paths our lives are taking and how sad it was that while they are making some dreams come true that their parent always championed, they were so filled with grief that they were missing it. I asked them if they think their loved one is really missing it? They thought for a more than a minute.
Because, I explained, I don’t think they are missing it. I think they are right here with us. Walking next to us. Holding out their hand, helping guide us, rooting for us, being our champions in Heaven. I feel my father all the time. I know he is with me. That’s just what I believe though. Some might call me crazy for sure. Whatevs. I explained further that life is so hard. But what I do know, very easily and with a lot of calmness and peace; that they indeed walk among us. It’s awful they are not physically here, it’s the very worst and we can do nothing to change it. But at least they are spiritually present. And that does give me PEACE.
I took myself outside for the sunset and sat on my stoop. I watched Sam the muskrat float by on his back, enjoying the vastness of the the lake before the docks go in, before the motors start humming, and the summer sounds start amping up. I saw the baby ducks scootch by with their families, and the geese making their way back to the hood. I wrapped up in my cardigan, leaned back on the banister and watchedGod’s show. I felt my Dad with me, winking to me that sunset. Thanks Daddy. It gave such good PEACE.
I’m going to go a little bit of a different route on today’s word, and focus on the Beatitudes. The Beatitudes are a set of eight blessings recited by Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel (5:3-12) and four in Luke’s Gospel (6:20-23). I def had to Google that.
As a core part of the Sermon on the Mount, I grew up hearing these words. Beautus is Latin for “Happy” or “BLESSED.” Basically, these are the qualities based on those who belong in Heaven. Whoof. Tall order?
To be “poor in spirit” means to acknowledge ones deepest human need for God and to grow into that longing and that dependence on a daily basis. You kind of have to want it. And know you want it. You could be walking around out there, all “poor in spirit”, but are you poor if it’s not even on your radar? But it’s like God has your back anyway. He’s holding down the fort for if, and when, you want to spiritually grow. I happened recently have my “Aha” moment and now I am here for it.
Mourning. Oof. The Bible reminds us that death is not the end, and that mourning is temporary. This is where faith of knowing our loved ones are in a better place and that we will hopefully see them again comes in, and it’s quite the multi-layered concept. After basically two years of shock, I am settling into my mourning and grief of my father. It’s every day with me. It’s always me hoping that he has a beautiful spot in Heaven, he is watching over us and he is waiting to see us again. Sometimes, when I hear myself talk about these feelings, I feel like I have the spirituality of a 9 year old. And I am ok with that. Works for me.
In Bibleland, meek does not equal weak. No sir. It’s not about being passive, shy and timid. It’s about humility, gentleness and patience. I find it hard to stay obedient in a political climate that has us in a chokehold. If I stay quiet, if I don’t fight back, if I let them walk all over me, am I weak or meek? I think it’s more strength of control. I argue with the concept that we need to submit without resistance when facing our chaotic national crisis, but spiritually, I feel it easier just to relent.
OK, Google AI, I see you. “In the context of Matthew 5:6, ‘hunger and thirst for righteousness‘ signifies a deep, passionate desire for what is morally right and just, a yearning for a relationship with God and a life that reflects His character, which is a spiritual need that, when fulfilled, brings true satisfaction.” I mean, I feel like I am going back to SCHOOL here. So, I see this as a call to action. We get hungry so we eat and we get thirsty so we drink. Hunger and thirst for righteousness is longing spiritually for growth and connection to God. Feed it and you come closer to living a life that feels worthy.
Mercy seems to be like a BBF of grace. Mercy is often expressed through the pardon of sins, second chances, forgiveness. I LOVE the word grace and the whole concept of it. It’s really one of my favorites. God’s unearned favor and kindness is such a beautiful thing to me because so many of us are so darn hard on ourselves. Knowing that there is just a simple hug out there for you when you can’t hug yourself is everything. The Bible starts strong with mercy when God forgives Adam and Eve. Then he heads over and forgives the Egyptian slave delivery of Israelites. Let’s not forget the actual sacrifice of Jesus Christ for the sins of humanity. It might be a hard sell to think that we are encouraged to be nice to our enemies, to forgive those who hurt us and to give to them without getting back. We can strive to give people what they need and not what they deserve. Let the big guy take care of that. That’s what he does with us.
My goodness, could we use a good peacemaker right now. I can’t help but to keep on referring to the big conflict, the big elephant in the room as our nation in crisis. It seems too lofty a request to try to find someone, a few, a gaggle of peacemakers to help pull us out of this shitstorm. When I am overwhelmed with the bigness of something like this, I have a panic attack, cry and then I break it down. How can I find peace in this moment to make me feel better? To make the ones I love feel more peaceful? Quite apparently these days, I’m going with God for 500, Alex. Where are our Ghandi’s, Mother Teresa’s, Martin Luther King’s? Our Desmond Tutu’s, Dali Lama’s, John Lennon’s? No seriously. Where are they. Someone point them out to me. I don’t think we fully really knew they trying to peace out the world until after the fact? I mean, we all knew that MLK was doing brave, great and powerful things. Mother Teresa, hello. Ghandhi, pfft obviously. I don’t know if we can pinpoint a champion right now. So I go to God. And Dr. Heather Cox Richardson for a daily health fact-based update of our democracy. You go girl.
And finally, we can address righteous persecution, also know as faith under pressure. One can lead a good life, have good morals, honor God and his ways, and you get beat up for it. Prophets Elijah and Jerimiah were God-shamed for sure. Elijah stuck to his guns and was rewarded by getting a sweet ride to Heaven in a fiery Chariot. Jeremiah, as known as “The Weeping Prophet”, tried to warn Israel of the consequences of broken covenants, but nooooo they wouldn’t listen. He was an empath, for sure. He was also super hard on himself. But he had courage and he stuck with his convictions, even when his own family bailed on him. He put in a lot of effort and he didn’t get to see those results, just a lifetime of bullying. But it was the impact of his lifetime deeds that God and generations after used to as an example of perseverance in ministry.
Or also know as: A Lenten Reflective Journey…With Hiccups.
Ahhh, Facebook….the best online hang in the world to connect, yet simultaneously annoying, politically stressful and chock full of HACKERS.
Last month, I saw a dear friend involved in a Facebook #rethinkchurch daily practice, inspired by The United Methodist Church. She was participating with another lovely friend who moved to the Big Stone Gap, and it’s been nice to be able to keep tabs on her and her wonderful life out there. I was intrigued by the idea of spiritual reflection, with a sprinkle of accountability. It’s always been a good look for me. In the last three years, I very painfully lost my dad and have been suffering from chronic health issues. My kids are getting older, life is moving so much faster. I feel very grateful for my soul mate husband, my loving children, family, friends, my home and my life. I am washed over with the overwhelming need to express my gratitude and thankfulness.
I had somewhat of a darker experience with religion when I was younger. Dark isn’t quite the right word. It’s not a positive word to pinpoint, but it was…problematic? So, as we sometimes do, I put it all in my pocket and I shoved it in the back of the closet. Well. Seems like I’m feeling the need to clean a little house. Exploring my relationship with religion and God has slowing inched over to me on the couch. I’m starting to lean in and I’m starting to listen.
At the beginning of March, I started the daily #lentphotoaday, prompted by a suggested word. I would post it on my FB page, tagging my reflective Lent tribe. I loved it. I was waking up every morning, inspired by nature outside my window, old photos, memories and pulling out our old family Bible. It all felt very cathartic and warm to explore.
And then we got Facebooked hacked.
And then I got really sick.
And then, instead of being able to reflect on my past, present and future relationship with God, and preparing for Easter in my own little way, I was just praying to God that I would get better and not die in the hospital. Not the journey I was intending.
I was in there seven days with a virus that turned pneumonic, and heavy IV steroids that bumped me to coma-high blood sugars. All of that craziness thrust me into a rancid, full-blown case of Diabetes. It sounds dramatic because it is. It sucks. I’m home now in insulin, bruised like a pin cushion, beat-up, weak and exhausted. My new medical path has changed and I will be now focusing on getting better. But I remain positive because LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL. I am babying myself so I can keep plugging along. Summer is coming…summer is coming.
In the end, if I can also be honest, I think this worked out. It’s getting me writing again. Also, It was not a comfortable platform for me to be sharing my reflections anyway. My FB circle is used to handling my funny meme’s, annoying mom brag posts and lots of music promotional material. I think it works out for me to head over to this crazy little Heatherland. Its feels so much more appropriate; a public blog, but ironically personal, since no one really reads it.
Therefore, here I am, jumping back into the Lent pool.
In the longest almost year of my life…dad’s health issues have taken over his Lewybodys Dementia and he’s in his last days. When LBD hit rapidly last July, after a septic UTI and hospital stay, our world was forever changed. Massive significant health problems, including surgeries and an amputation, made his confusion from LBD and his confusion of what was medically happening to him absolutely devastating to witness. Now I sit by him at his facility and he sleeps most of the time. He stopped eating a couple of days ago and it’s even hard to get him to take a few sips of water. I’m a writer, novice, but it’s my love language. I’ve barely been able to even write the utter emotional and physical despair this has inflicted on me and my family. Most importantly, on Dad. How is it possible that in less than a year, I am losing my big, strong, successful, insanely intelligent, funny, loving father? What we are all going through, this is the hardest stuff of life. I’m clinging to him in the last moments of his; praying for his calm and his peace, until he finally can be with our loved ones in Heaven. Hugs to everyone who has had to go through this. You don’t know until you know.
The first headline I read this morning was from Huff Post:
“Gen Xers and Millennial’s Got Into Weirdest Fight Over Super Bowl HalfTime Show”
My eyes are full of tears and I have to look away. I glance up at the hospital room TV. The halftime show star is starting, but it’s on mute. Mike and I are helplessly watching two hospital nurses shake you awake to see if you were ok. It takes about 10 minutes. You are so confused when you wake up. I have to leave to room to go cry in the hallway. Again.
We missed the half time show. But we also didn’t miss a thing.
HEATHERLAND 