Billy Joel Nailed It

Billy Joel Nailed It

Photo by Robert Collins on Unsplash

I want you to label your friends. No, not in a bad way. Take some time and think deeply about your core group of friends and pose this test to yourself: Identify the aspects that each good friend possesses that prompts you to hold them close to your heart.

Ponder this for a while. Don’t let yourself settle for a quick non-specific response such as, “He’s just so nice,” or “She’s a great person.”

And then tell each friend why you’re so happy they are a part of your life.

Yes, even if you’re NOT a mushy-gooey person who enjoys sharing deep feelings, you need to do this. And here’s why.

Linda, a very close friend of 50+ years, is in the midst of an extremely serious health crisis: ovarian cancer. Besides having a dedicated husband and loving family, she is blessed with a wide circle of friends from her librarian/teaching days, neighbors from both their Florida and Pennsylvania homes, people who know or work with their grown children, and many other outlets including a group of high school friends of which I’m a part.

Linda recently shared that the one bright spot in this scary situation is that so many people in the circle of her life have reached out to her with cards, calls, texts, emails, and visits. She said she was completely unaware of how much she means to all of these people, and how wonderful it is to actually know it NOW.

Another friend made the same type of comment after a healing service for her was held at church. How amazing it is to be told what you mean to many “someones”! One person commented that too often we wait for someone to die and then we tell those appreciative words to their surviving family. Yes, at a loved one’s funeral it’s comforting to hear, “Your mother stepped in to help me when I really needed it.” Or “Your father once gave me advice that changed my life.”

But it’s sad when the words have gone unspoken to the persons themselves.

Linda is one of my most faithful blog fans. So publically, here’s what I’m telling Linda:

Linda, no one has ever made me laugh like you do. You make every story funnier. Even though it takes a long time for you to finish telling a story (because we’re both laughing so hard), you are my favorite storyteller ever.

You remember what’s important to other people. Even now, at a time when it’s not easy for you to even take a breath, you remember how much my dog Riley meant to me and you ask how I am doing without him. 

You are a source of encouragement and inspiration. The night before you left for college and I was staying behind, you convinced me that I could learn to cook by walking me verbally step-by-step in the dark how to make mashed potatoes. You are a big part of why I blog. On a Christmas card some years ago, you encouraged me to write a book. I didn’t get that far, but from reader comments, my writing means something to others. If it weren’t for you, this blog wouldn’t exist. 

I love you the same as I have loved you all these years, and I pray that the cancer is on its way into remission even as I type these words. 

Yes, Billy Joel nailed it; you have a way about you. And everywhere you go, a million dreams of love surround you…everywhere.


Billy Joel singing live “She’s Got A Way About Her” 

Pick A Card But Not Just Any Card


Image by Pezibear on

When my children were young, my sister Beverly traveled extensively with her husband as he performed custom brick-laying across the country. She usually mailed my kids postcards from each new town.

And before cell phones changed everyday life, when we vacationed at the beach we’d troop to the closest store to buy postcards to mail to family and friends.

When’s the last time you bought a postcard? And did you actually mail it to someone or did you purchase it as a souvenir?

Why would I need to send postcards of the amazing place I’m visiting via the US Postal Service when I can post 37 photos on Facebook or Instagram and/or email and text the photos directly to the recipients within seconds of the shots being taken? And all for free.

There is no need, of course. But a recent story in the June Real Simple magazine caused me to rethink postcards.

The precursor of postcards occurred between 1848 and 1870 when envelopes with pictures on them were popular. Then in 1873 the federal government produced postal cards without envelopes that could be mailed for one cent of postage. Private producers of similar cards could not use that designation, and the postage for non-government cards was two cents.

In 1901 the two-word term post card was allowed, with an image on one side and room for the address on the other. Personal message writing was not permitted. Then in 1907 the divided back came into existence so that a person could write a short note on half the back with room for the name and address on the other half.

Postcards currently cost 35 cents in postage and to be officially considered a postcard, the size must range from 3 ½ x 5 up to 4 ¼ x 6 inches. They have to be .007” thick which is about the thickness of an index card.

Many businesses that still do direct mail advertising use postcards. And custom printed postcards have come into vogue for use as invitations and announcements.

But Jeff Gordinier, author of the noted magazine article titled Postcards: A Love Story, was talking about actual, honest-to-goodness postcards. He had used postcards earlier in his life as a way of keeping in touch with friends after college.

So years later when he realized he’d fallen in love with Lauren just as she was moving across the country, he worried about the problems inherent in a long-distance relationship. His job was keeping him in New York. Yes, of course, they could be in constant contact via calls, texts, emails, and FaceTime, but where is that romance in that?

So he fell back on the practice of sending postcards. Lots of them. And every single one was different. Lauren received at least one postcard a day. Jeff traveled all over the world as a food writer and he said he hoarded local souvenir cards by the dozen.

He chose randomness as his personal messages as well; he wanted to “keep the element of surprise alive.” So sometimes he’d write an observation of something he’d seen, a few lines of remembered poetry, memories from childhood, a favorite short recipe, a quote, something he’d overheard, a sampling of song lyrics, and so on.

To quote from the article, “The point wasn’t to say anything profound. The point was to express, in a form so compressed that it flirted with haiku, the very core of connectivity.”

Isn’t that deeply romantic? Forget the flowers. Give me a man who speaks to my soul.

So did the postcards keep their long-distance relationship alive?

I’ve included a link to the online article. You can read it for yourself to find out!


Here’s the Real Simple article in full


Beautiful Sounds Are In The Ears of the Hearer


Image by Skeeze on

To paraphrase a favorite line of poetry, “Even after all this time, I can still hear the sounds of him not being here.”

When a family member, a favorite someone, or even a beloved pet dies we remember him or her in countless ways.

Many people believe that sight is the strongest sense. And considering the studies of learning styles that indicate over half of us are visual learners (65%), I lean toward believing that sight does indeed play a huge role in how we remember people, events, places, and things.

We look at photographs or view videos of the people we miss. We continue to scan their Facebook page or other social media accounts, recalling what it was they posted while alive. We stare at the “things” they left behind, wanting to remember always the significance of each object.

Yes, the sense of sight plays a huge role in our remembering someone who has passed from this earth.

And even though I am part of that 65% group who leans heavily on vision skills for learning and remembering, sound is also pivotal to my recalling the essence of the person.

My son Tim’s joyous laughter and the way he would draw out the greeting, “Hello, Mama!” as he bounced through the door…

The harmony of noise my mom Bertie made as she worked in the kitchen whipping up simple but delicious meals and baked goods…

Beautifully sincere conversations my aged mother-in-law Rosalie had with God as she lay in our guest room bed…

The sound of a spoon hitting an empty peanut butter jar as my brother Bud finished that last tasty bite of his favorite treat…

My elderly Aunt Gerri opening her door and announcing to my sister and me, “I don’t know why you girls keep wanting to visit an old lady, but I’m so glad you do!”…

And yes, even the sound of Riley’s tags as they jangled together when he trotted along and the snuffling sounds he made as he scavenged the ground for early morning smells…

All these might seem like ordinary sounds but to me, they tie together precious memories.

And then I started wondering what sounds people will remember about me after I’m gone. That’s probably a good exercise for everyone to consider. Because I sure as heck don’t want anyone to recall me as constantly complaining or as someone who spewed negative words about others.

I’m pretty sure that keeping this idea about the sounds I’ll leave behind will help me be a better human being.

How does that sound to you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ article on learning styles

An interesting concept that Researchers found out that different music frequencies stimulate the human brain and the outcomes are incredible. In this video, the frequency of 48 Hz might stimulate far memories and also crying.”

NOTE: I had a better experience just listening to it rather than watching the letters float by on the screen since typos got in the way of my just releasing myself to it. Yes, I am that person.

The Best Wedding Present Ever

wedding present love

Photo by

What wedding gift did you last purchase? According to, here are a few of the gifts most wanted by newlyweds today. (Personal aside: I’m thinking the brides had at least a 95% say in the gift choices.)

Williams-Sonoma Glass Bowl Set, Calphalon Classic Cooling Rack, Pyrex Easy Grab Bake ‘N Store, The Cellar Selene Cake Dome, Martha Stewart Cupcake Carrier, CorningWare French White Bakeware 

Registries make it easy for those of us needing to choose a present. And of course, the talented folks on Etsy can craft practically any personalized gift for the happy couple. Cash and gift cards are always appreciated as well.

But what if you could give a gift that no one had ever given before AND that blessed not only the intended newlyweds, but continues over fifty years to bless countless other people taking their marriage vows AND has generated over two million dollars in donations to charitable organizations?

Noel Stookey did just that in 1969.

I know most of you are asking an important question. Who the heck is Noel Stookey? His full name is Noel Paul Stookey, and during the time that the folk group Peter, Paul and Mary were together, he went by his middle name of Paul. Because Peter, Noel, and Mary just didn’t have the right ring to it.

When his fellow singer Peter Yarrow wed Marybeth McCarthy in October 1969, the best man Stookey sang a song he had written for them. While Stookey is a Christian and intended the song to convey his beliefs, he wanted to honor his friend’s Jewish faith as well.

Stookey has been quoted as saying, “The melody and the words arrived simultaneously and in response to a direct prayer asking God how the divine could be present at Peter’s wedding.”

And that is how The Wedding Song (There is Love) came into existence. (You can listen to two versions in the links below.)

His 1993 Guidepost article tells how Noel’s wife Betty helped him change the pronoun wording just an hour before the wedding. At the ceremony, after the song was over, Noel figured one and done. No one else will ever hear it.

But then a few weeks later at one of their concerts, Peter Yarrow asked Stookey to sing the song as a solo. He was taken aback, feeling he couldn’t share something that belonged to the couple. But Yarrow insisted, saying that his wife was in the audience and please, wouldn’t Stookey sing it for her.

So he did and the audience loved it so much that he continued singing it at their concerts for the remaining time the group stayed together.  Soon after the trio took a long leave from performing concerts, Stookey recorded a solo album and included The Wedding Song.

But since he felt the song was God’s creation and not his, he didn’t want to assume the rights to it. According to the Guidepost article, “In the end I set up a foundation to oversee the publishing rights and to receive all my income as composer. Any money the song earned could then be distributed to worthy causes. To my amazement, shortly after the album’s debut, “Wedding Song” was released as a single and almost immediately went into the Top 30.”

This song has been played at weddings all around the world and continues today to be counted as a time-honored love song. lists it as one of the top ten classic songs to sing at weddings.

Various artists have recorded their own versions of the song, but to me, there is nothing like the original. A sweet simple song accompanied by chords from an acoustic guitar is sometimes all you need to feel the love.


A remastered copy of the original version of the Wedding Song (There is Love)

And years later at the 25th anniversary concert in 1986, Paul (Noel) Stookey is again singing the Wedding Song (There is Love). OK, he can’t hold the notes quite as long, but I mean, watch the man’s face. Really…there IS love!

Noel Paul Stookey’s article in Guideposts from June 1, 1993

The song even has its own Wikipedia page!

The Last Bench in the Sun

The Last Bench in the Sun

Photo by Tom Swinnen on

I wrote a lot of poetry when I was (much) younger. The sadder I felt, the better my poetry was. So you might say that happiness eroded my ability to rhyme.

The most recent poem I wrote was nearly three years ago to honor my grand-dog Scooter who had just died, but that was written for and shared with a private audience of two.

Prior to that, I penned my last poem nearly 40 years ago about something that happened the afternoon of Saturday, February 23, 1980.

Holy iambic pentameter, Batman! What happened to etch that date so firmly in this brain?!

In 1980 the man I was falling in love with had invited me to historic Williamsburg, Virginia for a weekend trip. We arrived on Friday, February 22, around 5 pm. We checked in just in time to watch a hockey game on television. Talk about romantic! Not.

But it was patriotic.

That winter Olympic semi-final hockey game pitted a very young (average age of 22) group of American college hockey players against the Soviet team which was comprised of professional hockey players. And oh, by the way, the Soviets were the four-time defending gold-medal-winning hockey team.

The American team was the underdog with a capital U.

As the Americans defeated the Soviets by a score of 4-3 (a link to the final minute of the game is included below), announcer Al Michaels screamed out, “Do you believe in miracles? YES!!”

And so the story of this game came to be called The Miracle on Ice. That victory took the Americans to the final where they defeated Finland to win the gold medal.

Well, who doesn’t enjoy an underdog’s improbable victory?

And who could resist using that game as a permanent mental marker of a date she didn’t want to forget?

The next afternoon, the man-who-would-be-husband and I strolled through a chilly park looking for a bench in the sun to sit for a while and talk about our possible future together. But the park benches were all shrouded in shade or already taken. About to give up, we rounded a corner, and there it was—the last bench in the sun.

Finding that bench was a symbol to me that it was all going to work out. So my days of writing sad poetry ended with this poem of hopeful expectations.

The Last Bench in the Sun

by Norma Thatcher

I was floundering when you came along.

I was hurt and shaken and not at all sure who I was or

what it was that I wanted.

And with a quiet warmth you took me in and helped

me realize that I was still who I had always been inside,

and that growth and change wouldn’t alter that.

And you loved me without qualification—

You accepted me as I am.

I’m not sure when it was that I realized I loved you.

I think it was as we walked that chilly day in Williamsburg,

warmed by our feelings and the intermittent sunshine.

And of all the benches left in the park,

They were all in the shade except one.

The last bench in the sun—looking for all the world

like it had been reserved just for us.


Final minute of the Miracle on Ice Olympic game 1980


This Must Be The Silver Lining People Talk About

Silver Lining

Photo courtesy of

We Americans surely love our animals. Many American households include at least one pet. There is disagreement regarding the actual numbers, but here are the statistics for pet ownership in US households from four sources:

US Census 49%

Simmons National Consumer Study 53%

American Veterinary Medical Association 57%

American Pet Products Association 68%

Using the lowest percentage would mean about half of American household own pets. Per, there were about 128 million US households in 2018, so that’s 64 million owners of at least one pet.

We’re talking approximately 77 million dogs and 58 million cats. The rest of the pets in the surveys were fish, birds, small animals, reptiles, and horses.

With these high numbers, surely thousands of our creatures die every single day. So the death of a family pet has to be one of the most common life events we face. Certainly, on my pet therapy rounds at the hospital, patients often share stories about pets they’ve loved who have died.

But guess what? The acceptance of the knowledge that our pets will very likely die before us doesn’t make a difference when the pet actually dies. We feel devastated. We need hope. We need a silver lining.

My silver lining in the dark cloud of recently losing my dog Riley came in the form of the outpouring of kind responses to the sad news. Here’s how people reached out to me:

2 Remembrance gifts

2 E-cards

3 Visits

5 texts

6 phone calls

7 hugs

8 comments on my blog post Requiem for a Dog

12 sympathy cards

16 emails

34 responses and 46 comments on my Facebook post about Riley dying and then 24 responses to my Thank You note to the Facebook commenters and responders

I can’t begin to express how much all of that means to me. People are so genuinely kind.

Here is a sampling of the sentiments people offered:

Through your posts and photos, Riley became a part of our lives as well. I looked forward to the posts about Riley because they brightened up my day and had a positive meaning. Thank you for sharing him.

I like to think that God offers exceptional blessings throughout a person’s life, and I believe that having an extraordinary pet is one of those divine blessings. Riley was one of those blessings. Riley loved you…It was evident each time I visited you both and in every photo you ever posted.

Any time I saw you with Riley, your love for him was so apparent. I know if love could have cured him, he’d have lived forever. 

Riley reached into a lot of peoples’ hearts and pulled out a lot of love. He just had that effect.

One of the “sending forth” blessings at my church includes, “Be swift to love and make haste to be kind.”

Be the silver lining of kindness in someone’s life tomorrow.

Sisterly Love Like You Can’t Even Imagine

Sisterly love

LIFE magazine cover April 1996

On March 7, 2006 twins Abigail and Brittany Hensel celebrated their 16th birthdays by testing for and obtaining their Minnesota driver licenses.

Although that sounds perfectly ordinary, the girls made history: They are conjoined twins, sharing one body with two heads.

They drive together as one by coordinating control of the steering wheel, and Abby controls the gas/brake pedals while Brittany handles the left side controls such as the turn signal.

Conjoinment happens very early in a woman’s pregnancy. According to the Mayo Clinic, “Identical twins (monozygotic twins) occur when a single fertilized egg splits and develops into two individuals. Eight to 12 days after conception, the embryonic layers that will split to form monozygotic twins begin to develop into specific organs and structures.

It’s believed that when the embryo splits later than this — usually between 13 and 15 days after conception — separation stops before the process is complete, and the resulting twins are conjoined.”

I’ve seen a variance in the figures of having conjoined twins, but the most reputable sites put the odds at 1 in 200,000. Most conjoined twin babies are stillborn or survive less than 24 hours. About 75% of conjoined twins are female.

The Hensel twins were born into a seemingly ordinary household; Dad is a carpenter and landscaper and Mom is a registered nurse. But for the girls to have blossomed into the people they are tells me that the parents must be extraordinary. From day one they treated the girls as two separate people.

I enjoy watching videos of the girls. It’s amazing how indeed they are two individuals, yet they sometimes speak the same words at the same instant. If one wants to put her head in her hands as in an “I can’t believe this!” moment, the other twin moves her hand spontaneously to make that happen.

Together the girls have shown the world that there’s not much they can’t do: they play piano, dance, participate in sports, ride a bike, and drive a car. They have traveled to Europe. They made history again by graduating from high school and college. They are jointly employed as elementary school teachers. The link below is an interview with the principal who hired them.

In a world where we often hear about cruelties inflicted by middle school and high school kids, it was so refreshing to see the protective social network the girls had. They seemed to fit in so seamlessly.

When they were around six, they were on Oprah and on the cover of Life Magazine. In order to educate the world, to help people with understanding that conjoined twins are not freaks, they did a reality show when they were teens.

The love they have for each other is so obvious. It seems to seep out of their very pores.

I’m willing to bet they are amazing teachers in addition to being extraordinary human beings.


The twins as elementary teachers

Requiem For A Dog


Riley Thatcher, 2016

Before I ever started blogging, I did my homework. One of the rules from the experts was this: It doesn’t matter how often you write; it can be daily, once a week, twice a week, once a month, whatever. But pick a schedule and keep to it. Most bloggers fail because they can’t keep up with the schedule; once a week may turn into once a month which fades to every now and then.

Since I started writing nearly three years ago, I have been pretty darn faithful about writing every Tuesday and Saturday. But you may have noticed you haven’t heard from me since January 12. Since I consider my readers as my friends, I wanted to share why I have missed writing.

My canine best buddy Riley Cramer Thatcher, who had been mistakenly diagnosed with an upper palate injury in the fall, actually had an aggressive oral mast cell tumor. He went downhill very quickly in mid-December and the tumor diagnosis was finally confirmed just after Christmas.

Although we tried to beat the cancer with chemotherapy treatment by a caring oncologist, we lost the fight and had Riley put to sleep on Saturday night, January 19.

For the last week of his life, I stayed by Riley’s side nearly all the time, sleeping downstairs with him so the frequent middle-of-the-night trips outside were easier. I hand-fed him scrambled eggs when it seemed difficult for him to eat from a bowl. There were some dark  January days and a few days when he seemed to rally a bit, even enough to walk in the park.

But if you’ve ever had a beloved pet who has been seriously injured or come down with a usually-fatal illness, you know the gut-wrenching decision that is part of being a responsible master. It’s not about keeping them alive because you can’t bear to let them go; it’s about doing what’s best for them.

In 1890, Robert Louis Stevenson penned the poem Requiem. From the Latin, requiem means to rest from labors.  The word now refers to a religious ceremony performed for the dead. The poem is as follows:

Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.

Riley, the fearless and tireless squirrel hunter, has come home from the hill.


“Pie Jesu” (Requiem). Taken from the DVD André Rieu – Under The Stars



A Cutest Pet, By Any Other Name

Cutest Pet

Riley Thatcher, October 2018

If we’re personal Facebook friends, you saw my posts in early December soliciting votes to elect my dog Riley as Warrenton’s Cutest Pet. Sadly, he did not win.

I misrepresented him. He’s not actually cute. Cute dogs snuggle up, lick your face, nestle their heads in your lap to be petted, hog the bed, and curl up in front of the fireplace while you read a book.

Riley does none of that. Having had basically no physical contact during his formative first eighteen months of life, he’s pretty much a loner. He stays very much glued to my side at the dog park, and he’ll actually get up and move to the floor with a huff if you try to snuggle with him in the bed. I’ve gotten exactly two kisses from him in the five years he’s been part of our family, and they both occurred on an Easter Sunday. I’m not sure what that means.

So no, “cute” is not the right word to describe Riley. But he is the most handsome boy dog ever. “Tall, dark, and handsome” sums him up nicely. Or “gentle giant” is a good fit as well. And the “oldest soul” in a middle-aged dog would work too.

At the park today was a family with a passel of kids running and playing. When Riley and I passed three of them, they stared wide-eyed at my dog. One of the little girls asked, “What’s wrong with his face?”

Because my sweet dog, who was misdiagnosed for two months as having an upper palate injury affecting his eye, is fighting an aggressive oral mast cell tumor. The tumor pushes out as an egg shape on the right side of his face, causing that side to be swollen. The swelling has forced his third eyelid to stick out, rolling his eye back in his head.

I understand how a child might be frightened by his looks. It breaks my heart.

While mast cell tumors are one of the most common tumors in dogs, to have one inside the mouth is uncommon. Most canine mast cell tumors are found on the trunk or the limbs and are usually easier to treat. Riley is on two types of chemotherapy treatment with an excellent oncologist in a nearby city. He is not a candidate for either radiation or surgery due to the size as well as the location of the tumor. Frankly, there is just a tiny bit of hope that he can beat this.

We live on that tiny bit of hope.

My good friend Patti had also entered her little dog London in the cutest pet contest, and we had a friendly “big dog/little dog” rivalry going on. When I called Patti the other day to update her on Riley, I remembered to inquire if London had won the contest. She said no, but then she gave me a gift. She shared that when I told her about Riley’s diagnosis, she decided that moment that if London were to win, they would relinquish the title to Riley.

Really, with friends like that, bad times can be made a little more bearable.

Riley’s good looks as the world views him may be gone, but he still is and always will be my sweet handsome dog.

“Believe me, if all those endearing young charms…”


My original post about the “Endearing Young Charms” song


I’ll Love You No Matter What. Boom!


Photo courtesy of cocoparisienne on

My Grandma Elizabeth kept a couple dozen vintage songbooks stored in her piano bench. I’ve always been a sappy sentimentalist, and so as a young girl and through my teen years, I loved playing and singing those old sad love songs.

One of my favorites was “Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,” by Irish poet Thomas Moore. Supposedly written in 1808 for his wife who had been scarred by smallpox, the poem professed his love for her whether or not she was still beautiful by the world’s standards.

The poem was set to an old Irish melody that also is the tune to Harvard’s alma mater, Fair Harvard.

If you listen to the beautiful instrumental version (link below) by violinist Jenny Oaks Baker, you can scroll the comments and see phrases such as BOOMMMM!!! Or Where’s the explosion?!  Those are random comments, right?

Well, as it turns out, not really.

For whatever reason (and really I can’t think of a single plausible one), the melody has been used in numerous Warner Brothers cartoons with one character trying to blow up another by rigging a piano or xylophone with explosives. The note for the words “young charms” has the TNT attached to it.

According to Wikipedia, “The gag is so well known that it is often called “The Xylophone Gag”.

You can watch several of the cartoons via the link below.

This is crazy. I have to wonder: Did someone at Warner Brothers hate this song so much they wanted to make a punch line of it? And why did they use the gag over and over?

And what’s crazier is that this isn’t even what I was going to write about tonight. So stay tuned for Saturday’s part two of “endearing young charms.”


Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,

were to change by to-morrow, and flee from my arms

Like fairy-gifts, fading away!

Thou wouldst still be ador’d as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will;

And, around the dear ruin, each wish of my heart

Would entwine itself verdantly still!

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,

And thy cheeks unprofan’d by a tear,

That the fervour and faith of a love can be known,

To which time will but make thee more dear!

No! the heart that has truly lov’d, never forgets,

But as truly loves on to the close;

As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets,

The same look which she turn’d when he rose!

  • Thomas Moore

Beautiful instrumental version by Jenny Oaks Baker

Four Looney Toon cartoons all with the same premise