The walls outside of Molly's Rude Awakening are colorful and rad.

Molly’s Rude Awakening is an unexpected delight in Black River Falls, Wisconsin. For over 25 years, I have traveled Interstate 94 between my home in Minnesota and points east, especially 50 or more trips to Detroit where I grew up.   I thought I knew every gas station, restaurant, coffee shop, and convenience store along the way.

One morning about 6 weeks ago, I headed to the swimming pool at 3am before hitting the road.  When I was done, there were no coffee shops open so I started on my way hoping I would find a convenient Caribou or Starbucks along the way (road warriors deserve an excellent cup of coffee).

By the time I reached Black River Falls, Wisconsin, about 2 hours outside of the Twin Cities, I pulled over for a little car nap at the BP gas station.  Having had no coffee, I still wasn’t fully awake.  So I snoozed for 20 minutes.  As I was leaving the BP, I spotted a gloriously painted building that turned out to be a coffee shop.  Molly’s Rude Awakening!  I circled around it a couple of times then decided to give it a try.   How can you pass up a place like this?

As it turns out, not only was the exterior clever and hip, the cup of coffee was excellent.  My skinny latte was as good as anything I have gotten at Starbucks or Caribou!   The drink and the place gave a lasting impression.

A few weeks later, I was on the road again, this time with my husband and a friend.  As we traveled through Wisconsin, I started talking about this unusual coffee shop.  As a life coach, I am always excited about someone who dares to follow a dream.  I had to show them this place.

This time, we went inside.  It turns out that the interior is just as funky as the exterior.  There is food and other merchandise.   Plus, there’s a whole calendar of events that Molly’s sponsors such as Give Back Tuesday where local non-profits get $1 in coins for every drink sold. There are aerobics and zumba classes, and live music on Friday nights.

I have to give the owner, Molly Hoffman credit. She came up with a unique idea and made it fly in the unlikely location of Black River Falls, Wisconsin.   So next time you are on Interstate 94,  I recommend you give Molly’s a try.  I have a feeling this place will continue to evolve into a one-of -a -kind destination.

MAP TO MOLLY’S RUDE AWAKENING: http://www.mollysrudeawakening.com/map/

Hovering over the clouds in a 2-mile free fall

I resolved to skydive to celebrate my 50th birthday despite being a dedicated fear of heights chicken. On my 45th birthday, I vowed, after jumping off of a 32 foot cliff in Jamaica, that I would skydive next. You can check out my  pre-skydiving blog to confirm that I really was a overcoming a long-standing fear of heights to do this.

Now, if you watch my You Tube video of the actual jump (see below), you might think I would be scared out of my wits at least at some point.  If nothing else, the pre-skydiving video I had to watch prior to jumping should have rattled me a little. The short film explicitly states all of the dangers of sky diving including death.  The ambulance in the video makes it clear that this could end very badly. The video also features the inventor of the tandem parachute, Bill Booth (who basically looks like Rasputin or Osama Bin Laden) telling you that no parachute is foolproof. After that pleasantry, you sign your life away via several legal documents.

However, I wasn’t scared in the least. In the video, you will see a relaxed person who jumps without hesitation.   Was this really me?  Nary a bone was rattling in my body as I anticipated the jump.  Why?

What tames fear? Is it because a worse fear displaces a current fear?  In my case, did I fear being teased for now following through on my plan, schemed 5 years earlier with great bravado?  Maybe.  Or, was it a feeling of being invincible?  Many young people are fearless because of incomplete ability to judge real consequences.   I am probably too old to be consider myself invincible although I do remember having the feeling that this wasn’t going to be my day to die.  Or was it resolve, the firm decision to accomplish task?

I do believe in my case it was resolve that tamed my fear.  As I approached 50, I wanted this to be a symbol of how I wanted things to go for the next 50 years.  My first 50 years were excellent but they really were colored by important commitments to be a relatively well-behaved daughter, a supportive wife, and to raise 3 good citizens, to teach them to use their talents and to nurture them.  Now that I am more of a “consultant” to them, there is every reason for me to jump into these next years with gusto.

And in all seriousness, my father died at age 51 not far from where I was going to do my jump.  You really don’t know when the “deal will go down” for you so it’s important to do a few bold things while you still have the chance.   Bold does not equal foolhardy, by the way.   I did do some research before I went through with it.

Click here to view the embedded video.

My Dad

“Your mother looks beautiful with her hair like that” were his last words before he collapsed and died of a heart attack at the Little Bar restaurant in Marco Island, Florida. He said them to me and I was the only one who heard them. He was 51 years old and the year was 1989.   I cannot adequately describe the shock that goes with an experience like this.  Nothing has ever matched the pain of calling my brothers and his mother to tell them what had happened, and to say that he did not make it.

Now as I approach my 50th birthday, I am returning to Marco Island for only the second time since he died. The first time I returned, we visited that restaurant and although the food was good and the company was grand, it was unpleasant.  I really didn’t want to go back.

I had always worried about my dad.  His family had heart disease and he really didn’t take good care of himself.  I would lay awake at night wondering if I would get, “the call” saying something had happened.  Shortly before we left for Florida on that trip in 1989, I resolved to quit worrying.  And I did.  And he died.  For a long time, I thought that I had been in control over this.  If I had kept worrying,  there may have been a different outcome.  For years that mindset would creep up, oftentimes worrying about my children but other things too. I often resolved that this time I wasn’t going to leave it to fate.  Or to God.   Look what happened last time. So I would torture myself with quiet worry.

Now as I return to Marco, I have planned a skydive for my 50th birthday.  I want to jump into my next half century of life.  Do something that rattles me a little.  Do it in South Florida  (I changed my location from Tallahassee to Homestead.  It’s as close as I could get to Marco).  I am going to jump with my son Andrew, who is named after my dad.  And I am going to dedicate this jump to my dad who taught me to challenge myself and not to be afraid.

What’s more, my good friend VuV wanted to take me out for coffee… to plan my eulogy!  We had always agreed we would do each other’s eulogies.  He thought it made sense to work on mine before I jumped.  What a jinx!  I am glad he brought that up because that adds to the worry soup, a soup I will toss to the wind when I am 10,000 feet in the air and free-falling next week!

* My dad was truly a great guy.  For anyone who wants a flavor for the kind of man he was, I have published a letter on annholm.net that  he wrote to me in high school when I was screwing up my grades by not trying.   

So why am I leaping out of an airplane at 9,000 feet with an expected free fall of 60 seconds, to celebrate my 50th birthday next month? Good question.

I declared my intent to skydive after I jumped off of a 33 foot cliff in Negril, Jamaica 5 years ago. Believe me, I approached the jump off point several times before I finally took the leap. I remember thinking that I had enough time to question my sanity before I actually hit the water.  You enter water with a pretty good smack and I learned afterward that some people actually fracture their spine doing this same jump.  Yikes! Nevertheless the  best part was that I experienced the exhilarating thrill of overcoming my fear of heights. In that adrenaline filled moment of swagger, I vowed that I would jump out of a plane on my 50th birthday.

Today I made my reservations at the School of Human Flight in Tallahasee, Florida. The School of Human Flight. How can you go wrong with a name like that? A long time friend, who is a professor at Florida State recommended the place. The irony is that my friend is an expert in phobias and I don’t think he knows that Mrs. Phobia will be channeling his vibes when I step out of the plane. The secret is out. I only wish he could meet me on the other side with a celebatory cocktail but alas, he will be on holiday with his family.

Anyway, the time is fast approaching when I will follow through on my craziest scheme. What kinds of neurochemicals will bathe my brain as I wahooooooo out of that plane and experience the free fall? I know some people speak of the experience as no big deal. For me, it WILL be a big deal because as you know, chickens can’t fly. So why am I doing this? No clue, but I suspect I will have the answer after I jump.

I admire Laura for many reasons.  Her book, Praying Through Cancer is a 90-day Christian devotion to help people get through the tougher times that come with the treatment and concern about the future when you have this disease. It has now been translated into several languages, something I am sure Laura never dreamed would happen.  In fact, I am certain that this book is a success because it comes from the heart and from her unshakable faith in God even through tough times.

Another thing that has always astounded me about Laura is her incredible recall of details.  She can rattle off dates and details and facts as if the information was written down right in front of her.  Or her attention to detail.  One day, I stopped into visit and she was talking about the weeds that needed to be pulled. What weeds, Laura?  Everything looked pretty good to me!   Your attention to detail makesyou good at everything you did.  I admire that for I lack that!

Then there was this delicious beverage we used to call, “Clark Iced Tea.”  Her mother used to brew fresh iced tea and top it off  with a mint leaf.  Every time I have iced tea with mint, I say to myself, “Clark Iced Tea.”  It’s funny how you you associate certain things with someone  and most of the time they don’t even know it.  Or the times that they are brought to mind without it ever being said or shared.

Well I am saying it now.  You have inspired me Laura as you have inspired so many others. Your hallmark achievement has been a gracious and tenacious battle with cancer but there are so many others.  Mother.  Wife.  Journalist. Friend. Sorority sister.

I think it was really cool how you recently received dozens of red carnations from the Alpha Chi sisters.  Your dad, an Alpha Chi super fan would have loved that!  But that just shows how many lives you have touched and inspired.  It’s really quite  remarkable.  And so, I raise my glass of Clark Iced Tea to you, friend.   You are awesome!

What’s more, I consider myself fortunate that my best friend is married to a Spartan, for he was able to provide me with Spartan gear moments after the football game ended.  He offered Spartan slippers too but I declined.  Hasn’t he ever seen the Witch try to touch the ruby slippers?

Let’s hand it to the Spartans for they played an aggressive style of defense that Michigan could not handle.  What’s more, they mustered their Spartan powers to stir up 35mph winds from North to South- East to West, so that they could expose Denard Robinson’s weak suit… passing.  How clever of the Green Ones to command nature as well as pressure the quarterback all day long.

Ok Greg… is that enough yet?  Or do I have to keep going?  Ok keep going….

And I LOVE the color Green!  It brings out my eyes!  It’s the color of money!  It’s the color of emerging life in the Spring!  White is the perfect compliment to Green.  It is pure!  It is the blank canvas where dreams are painted!  It is the color of the good guys.

It has been 4 long years since the Wolverines have beaten the Spartans in football.  This year, I thought it might be different.  So I drew up a bet with Gregory Huszczo, who by the way has a Wolverine son. Since I have not yet authored a book like he has (his part of the wager), I agreed to write a blog in honor of the Spartans. Now that I have done so, I wish I had I offered to drink sixteen ounces of Sweet Baby Ray’s BBQ sauce instead.  It certainly would have been easier to stomach!

“Tell me about Dennis, ” I said to his rehab doctor.  He replied, “Oh Dennis.  He had a mild head injury from a car accident. ”   I asked for more information, “What’s his background?”  The doc said without flinching, “Oh well, he was a bank robber and a gigolo.”

Ohhhhhh. Ok!  I wasn’t too nervous because as an intern at Detroit Rehabilitation Hospital, I had worked with some bad dudes.  One man, who had been shot in the head, almost stabbed me with scissors when I asked him to write his name.  Honestly, he couldn’t help himself.

Dennis was not what I expected.  He was a tall man with eyes the color of a Siberian Husky.  He was polite and engaging.  Despite the head injury, he had maintained much of his cognitive capacity.  As it turns out, we had both grown up in the same area. We shared a passion for the Rockford Files- his first question every time he saw me was, “Did you see the Files last night?”  Our favorite character was Angel, the schemer and thorn in Jim Rockford’s side.

Over time, Dennis and I developed quite a friendship.  One day I asked him,”What do you do when you rob a bank?  Seriously!”  He said, “I’d tell everyone to count backwards from 100.  After they got through 10 digits, I would say, I CAN”T HEAR YOU, even if I could.”   Wow.  Even bank robbers have a routine.

As I got to know him better, I came to know that he was deeply saddened by the choices he had made in his life, that he had caused his parents so much angst.  He was well into his 40′s at the time but his regret was as if it happened yesterday.  One bad choice led to another and before long, he had ensnared himself into the wrong crowd, doing the wrong thing, all of this made worse by a drug habit.  Only a car accident put a stop to his ill-begotten behavior.  This man was full of potential and yet this is the course his life had taken.

One day, Dennis and I were  listening to some music while we were cooking in the clinic kitchen together.   Who’ll Stop the Rain? came on the radio.  He looked me and said, “That’s what I wonder every day.  Who’ll stop the rain?”  A jolt ran through my body as I looked into his eyes.  It was then that I realized that in the heart of many men who have blown it in life, there is an ember that glows with the wish that things had been different.

I think of Dennis often,on his birthday and at other times. Who’ll Stop the Rain? remains the biggest trigger of all.  I have no idea where he is now or if he is even still alive.  Still, I want to throw a few rays of sunshine his way, even if it’s just into the Universe with his name on it.  And I hope I was able to stop the rain just a little bit all those years ago.

As a long time Scrabble player, it took me awhile to get used to the consequence-free Words With Friends format. Just now, I was ready to place the word washer on the board.  Then I thought, “What the hell?  Why not try washier?! It uses all 7 letters!”  I couldn’t believe it when it wasn’t rejected.   However, here’s the incredible part: washier is actually a word meaning more diluted.  Well now I have that word in my back pocket for the next time I sit at the Scrabble table and play the real deal.

However, I can’t decide if I like the opportunity to fiddle around with my letters and find a combination that works.  For every “oh wow, that’s a word?” that turns out in my favor, there are 5 others that do not fly.  I can guarantee that I don’t remember what was acceptable and what wasn’t in Words With Friends when I sit down to play Scrabble.  Am I hacking up my respectable Scrabble prowess by playing this crazy game? It’s hard to say.

There is an addictive quality to Words With Friends.  It’s almost like a jigsaw puzzle where you can shift the pieces around until they fit together.  I have also found out that if I am stuck, walking away from the game and returning to it brings a new angle.  You can’t do THAT in Scrabble because it’s a timed game when you are playing it the right way.  So now I won’t be able to play under pressure?

Talk about insidious!…Your thoughts?

However, I could see on the horizon  that  my kids would increasing rely on their own judgment  and that I wouldn’t t need to be as involved. In other words, if I had done a good job, then I needed to let go.  It’s a constant battle for an idea person to back off.  I am so enamored with generating ideas and carrying them out that I have joked that I want light bulbs on my tombstone!  Still, as my last child graduated last night, it became abundantly clear that this is the end of the line.  All of my children have taken steps toward independence and adulthood.  The notion of the empty nest came onto the radar screen for me about 3 years ago and this  new reality helped me generate a whole new set of goals and priorities for myself.  Evolve or dissolve, as my friend once said.

People generally don’t have to start from scratch when they look for a new direction. Either you find something that falls under that same general umbrella or you combine some of your talents in a new way to make it fresh. Knowing this, I felt I needed to identify a challenge I could take on that would redirect my energy on a day to day basis.   I decided to capitalize on my knack for helping  people get unstuck and began to lay the groundwork for a life coaching practice using my brain science/therapy background coupled with some life coaching training.

I also started Queenanntics.net so I could have a place to publish my writing, purely for enjoyment. Not all of my initial ventures in this area have been successful but I am definitely finding my way.  It’s a PROCESS and I have all kinds of time to figure out how to hone my act. The worse thing is to do nothing because of fear of failure or feeling foolish.  Everyone has a passion or two lying deep within and as mothers, we sometimes lose sight of what that may be such is the demands of our primary job for so many years.

In fact, my children are still my greatest love  and inspiration but  my new role as a mother is to model a healthy transition from hands-on day to day mothering to embracing my new life as an empty nester.  They will watching how I spend my time and someday, when they pass through this stage with their own children, I hope they will think of me as someone who navigated this time successfully. I do have to give credit to my own mother who worked part-time as a medical technologist while we were growing up then went to full-time after we got older.  Even when she retired from that occupation, she couldn’t remain idle for long.  At 75, she is still a Weight Watchers receptionist greeting clients and providing encouragement to the members.

It doesn’t really matter what you do but it will feel more joyous if you can discover what energizes you.  Picking something to pass the time until you can reconnect with your kids is certainly helpful but finding a passion gives you the opportunity to let them get excited about you too!  This phase of their lives can be intoxicating with new loves, jobs, travels and freedom and it’s tempting to vicariously ride the wave with them or to slow them down so they don’t stray too far from the nest.  However, one of the best ways to gently let go is to discover new passions and interests in your own life.  This is one of the greatest gifts you can give to your adult children.

Lionel Logue, the therapist, was an interesting character and he fundamentally understood the anxiety and pressure that can lock up the speech mechanism.  As a trained actor,  he was probably the most equipped to loosen the king up.  After all, he had observed stage fright and the effect it had on performers.  Yet it was the Queen who hung in there even when the King doubted that his therapist could help him.  She sang out of the window, rolled on the ground-did whatever she could to support the King.  I believe this built the critical bridge that served to bond the two men together.

Stuttering therapy takes family support.  Many years ago, I worked with stuttering clients as part of my speech therapy training. Some clients had lived with stuttering all of their lives and some had acquired it after a brain injury.  In all cases, it was very helpful to have a patient, non-judgmental family member hang in there with the client.  Queen Elizabeth known as The Queen Mother after the death of King George VI, served in this role perfectly.  No wonder she remained popular with the British people until she died at the ripe old age of 101!  Through divorces and scandals in the British royal family, the Queen Mum knew how to roll with it!  She was a very cool queen indeed!