Nov/Dec 2018 Issue

Grand Traverse

WOMAN NOV/DEC '18 • HOLIDAY ISSUE

Holiday Issue MELISSA SMITH HOW BRAIN SURGERY CHANGED MY LIFE

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WOMAN2WOMAN

BY KANDACE CHAPPLE & KERRY WINKLER

Grand Traverse

WOMAN northern michigan’s magazine for women

Volume 16, No. 2 NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2018 Grand Traverse Woman P.O. Box 22 Interlochen, MI 49643 tel: 231.276.5105 www.grandtraversewoman.com BLOG: www.kandacechapple.com FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/grandtraversewoman PUBLISHERS Kandace Chapple Kerry Winkler EDITOR Kandace Chapple, kandace@grandtraversewoman.com ACCOUNT DIRECTOR Kerry Winkler, kerry@grandtraversewoman.com ACCOUNT EXECUTIVES Deb Dent, deb@grandtraversewoman.com Sherry Galbraith, sherry@grandtraversewoman.com Lori Maki, lori@grandtraversewoman.com ASSISTANT EDITOR Eva Nienhouse, eva@grandtraversewoman.com

Dish Duty IT’S ALMOST TIME for traditional huge holiday meals that fill an entire kitchen with enough food for 20 people for a week. Especially if your parents and grandparents are from the U.P. When we were growing up, holiday meals were a big deal. Times two.

Two Grandma’s houses. One in Curtis. One in McMillan.

Two sets of cousins. Two Thanksgiving turkeys. Two Christmas trees. Two Christmas Eves. Two Christmas Days. Two tables set up: a kids’ table, an adult table with every leaf put to use.

The double-everything was fabulous.

Unless you had to do the dishes.

The dishes somehow landed on us at every holiday meal. It was an unspoken deal: If we stayed out of the kitchen while they were cooking, we didn’t have to cook.

If we didn’t cook, we had to clean. It always felt fair until dessert was over.

Grandma, born in 1921, had a dishwasher, probably a gift from a dish-washing daughter. But we stood there, holiday after holiday, handwashing the dishes next to it. It was taking up valuable under-the-counter storage space, nothing more.

The one time we dared load it, every adult female in the kitchen stopped what they were doing and looked at Grandma and waited. What would she say?

“Good idea, girls!” she said. Grandma never said a cross word to any of us. We all tittered, excited but wary.

By dawn the next day, Grandma had unloaded and inspected every piece. Some rewashing occurred, silently, by hand. No one said a word, and Grandma started the bacon. After breakfast, our mother pulled us aside and said the words we’d live by for the next three decades at Grandma’s: “Just wash them by hand.”

The chore was divided in two: One washed. The other dried. If our cousins were on the scene, we’d work in shifts.

The adults, meanwhile, put away the leftovers. A towering stack of pale brown butter tubs was pulled out and put into service. Country Crock housed the mashed potatoes. Country Crock also housed the gravy and the

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COPY EDITOR Christine Kurtz

turkey. Parkay, if we were lucky, housed the corn, and another butter brand, the cranberries.

The stack of “butter” in the fridge was like a true game of Clue. Tomorrow, the entire lot would be hauled out for sandwiches and the hunt for which held the turkey would begin.

Meanwhile, the dishes would continue to accumulate at the sink. No sooner did we think we were done, when a butter tub would set free a big, greasy dish for us to tangle with.

Next was the drying debacle. It was hard to dry that many dishes with one thin towel. Grandma put her towels to use day in and day out, what with the dishwasher’s heat cycle never put to use for drying. And so they were always thin and always soaked through with the first dish. Were the dishes still wet when we put them away?

Always.

Finally, the puzzle known as Grandma’s water glasses. Her cupboard could not hold them all. But our job was to get them washed and put away, so we’d reach and shove and push until glasses teetered on the very front edge of the shelf. Then we’d start to slowly close the door to see if they’d fit.

Which is when a cousin would decide to show up and shut the door with gusto. We’d shriek at her, but it would close without breaking glass every time. Then, we’d shriek accusations at her for not helping. Finally, a mother would shriek at all of us to get back to work.

And it always ended the same way: A water fight at the sink, a roar, wet linoleum, wet socks, The trash bin under the sink overflowing with coffee grounds. Grandma's peanut butter fudge in a glass pie dish on top of the fridge, saved for later.

Cousins sharing secrets while looking out the tiny window over the sink, a view into the only road through McMillan, Michigan. Sisters, moms, daughters running into each other on the way to the stove or the table.

Laughter and jostling, sometimes a little swat or squeeze.

Looking back, we can see now that those were some of the best times. When we were put to work in a kitchen full of the women who loved us the most.

Even if the dishes never did seem to end.

DESIGNER Bethany Gulde, bethany@grandtraversewoman.com COVER PHOTO Melissa Smith tells the story of her brain surgery.

See her story on page 8.

Beth Price Photography, www.bethpricephotography.com PHOTOGRAPHERS Sarah Brown, Sarah Brown Photography www.sarahbrown-photography.com Scarlett Piedmonte, Photography by Scarlett www.photobyscarlett.com Beth Price, Beth Price Photography www.bethpricephotography.com CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Beth Barbaglia Donna Hogard Barbara Kudwa Mary Rexer-Bluhm Melissa Smith Wendy Sobeck Samantha Towne Stefanie Tschirhart-Baldwin Valerie Winans Zonta ADVERTISING Kerry Winkler at 231.276.5105 or kerry@grandtraversewoman.com Visit www.grandtraversewoman.com for rates.

SUBSCRIPTIONS To receive GTWoman at home, mail $20 (for 6 issues) to: Grand Traverse Woman, P.O. Box 22, Interlochen, MI 49643 ARTICLES/PRESS RELEASES Letters, inquiries, press releases and GTWoman In Business submissions are welcome.

See www.grandtraversewoman.com for guidelines.

MISSION STATEMENT Grand Traverse Woman is a bimonthly magazine dedicated to the interests of women in the five-county region. Our mission is to provide women with a publication that is educational and inspirational. We strive to maintain a positive, well-balanced and genuine forum for women's issues. (We also like funny stuff.) © Copyright 2018 Grand Traverse Woman LLC All rights reserved.

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BY MELISSA SMITH

BETH PRICE PHOTOGRAPHY

TO SMILE AGAIN

How brain surgery changed my life

WE ALL HAVE those moments that force us to change how we perceive the world—our crutches, our brick walls. For me, it was a health issue that I put on the back burner for a few years, hoping it would go away. It crept up in my life this past year, and it changed my world in more ways than I would ever realize.

This past February, I had brain surgery at the University of Michigan to remove a tumor called an acoustic neuroma. It was growing on the hearing, facial and balance nerves on my right side, near the base of my brain. It’s something I’m still processing and trying to see in a positive light. For a very long time I was livid, in denial and questioning why it was happening.

THE DIAGNOSIS I was diagnosed with the acoustic neuroma back in 2010. My primary care doctor sent me for an MRI because of chronic migraines, and the scan picked up the acoustic neuroma as a small speck, about the size of the tip of a pen.

I wasn’t having any symptoms. In fact, I was told the migraines were probably not even from the tumor. One doctor told me these types of tumors are slow growing and surgery may do more damage, so watching and waiting might be best.

During the years that followed, I went for an MRI once a year, and they always showed little to no growth. Feeling optimistic and maybe

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even in denial, I eventually stopped going for the follow-ups. I honestly thought if I pretended it wasn't there, the acoustic neuroma would go away.

DIVINE INTERVENTION It wasn't until August 2017 that I scheduled an appointment with my ear, nose and throat doctor for what seemed like laryngitis.

Looking back, I feel it was an office visit I was led to. It was divine intervention.

At the appointment, my ENT doctor asked if I had been completing my yearly MRIs. I smiled.

“Oh, I’m fine!” I joked. “I stopped going for those!”

He didn’t find it funny and immediately scheduled an appointment for me.

A week later, my ENT called with the results.

I was sitting with my now-husband, Phil, at our kitchen table talking about our upcoming wedding. We were in the thick of planning, less than a year out, and like any soon brideto-be, I was ecstatic about what was ahead.

When I answered the phone, it was as though my body was immediately overwhelmed with a sense of intuition, preparing me for what I was about to hear.

The MRI showed the acoustic neuroma had grown significantly to about 14 to 16 millimeters. It was nudging up against the base of my brain. He said it needed to come out as soon as

possible. If it stayed, it could cause irreversible damage. My smile from the afternoon of wedding planning slowly fell, my joy emptying. My eyes filled with tears. I got up and walked away from the kitchen table.

My doctor asked if I was having any balance issues. “No,” I replied. I told him that I ride my bike on a regular basis without any problems.

He told me the tumor was considered medium to large, and he was shocked I wasn’t having symptoms. A million thoughts raced through my mind, from how this would impact my job as a news anchor, to my wedding, to life in general.

More than anything, I was angry. Phil had followed me, and when I turned and saw him, I started to sob. I wanted to be strong, but I lost it. I told him the news, and I think we were both in shock. I’ll never forget that day.

Throughout this time, I kept thinking, "I don't have time for this.” That thought played over and over like a broken record in my mind, and looking back, it was naïve to think I was invincible.

THE SURGERY I researched extensively over the next several weeks and met with people who had gone through surgery for an acoustic neuroma.

I scheduled consultations with Dr. Byron Thompson, a neurosurgeon, and Dr. Hussam El-Kashlan, a head and neck surgeon, both at

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the University of Michigan. They became my “dream team.”

During the pre-surgery visits, I underwent hearing, balance and facial nerve tests. All of them came back normal, but I was told my balance on the right side was weakened from the tumor. I was also told that after surgery I could experience dizziness and may have to learn to regain my balance. There was also a chance I would lose hearing on my right side and have facial paralysis.

“What if I can’t walk down the aisle for my wedding?” I thought. “What if I don’t look like myself or can’t hear when I recite my vows? If I have kids one day, will I be able to hear them?”

For months, these thoughts consumed me. Then finally, on Monday, Feb. 12, 2018, I was wheeled in for surgery.

The day of surgery felt like a dream.

Since the University of Michigan is a teaching hospital, the operating room looked like a classroom with medical students sitting in. The anesthesiologist tried to make me feel relaxed. As he placed an oxygen mask on my face, he asked me where I would like to go.

I must have looked confused because he smiled and asked again, "Where would you like to go during your surgery, while you're sleeping?"

I finally understood. "I want to go to my favorite beach on Lake Michigan. It's called Port Oneida," I said.

He shouted to the whole surgical room I was going to Lake Michigan and they all cheered and started clapping. It gave me a sense of comfort. One of my surgeons stood over me, smiling. He looked down and asked if there was anything else.

“Yes. I just want to come out of this as the same Melissa,” I said.

“We’re going to try our very best,” he replied.

Slowly, the oxygen in my mask began to smell like chemicals. I looked up one last time.

"God, please help me," I whispered. A tear fell down my right cheek. Then, I closed my eyes and slept.

THE RECOVERY It seemed like all of five minutes had gone by when I opened my eyes in ICU. I could feel a heavy bandage wrapped around my head and could barely move. The room seemed blurry. In front of me, I saw my family and Phil smiling.

I grabbed for Phil’s hand and then grabbed

for my mom too. She smiled. She walked over and told me I was in surgery for 13 hours. The surgeons got the entire tumor, she said.

I couldn’t format sentences and had a hard time putting simple words together. My neurosurgeon, Dr. Thompson, came into the room and asked me to smile as big as I could.

He explained my smile was perfectly sym-

the way of life.

So, we went on as planned. Phil and I were married on July 14, just five months after my surgery. It was the best day of my life. When I walked down the aisle with both of my parents, I felt strong. My balance didn’t let me down, and my smile didn’t let me down either.

I couldn't stop smiling!

Today

metrical, but in the next 24 hours, the irritation from surgery could change that. He said it would eventually come back over time. The facial nerve had been so tightly bound around the tumor, it took five hours to peel it off without ripping the nerve. Talk about incredible humans.

I was away from work for about two and a half months learning how to strengthen my balance with physical therapy. For about two solid months, my right side of my face was completely paralyzed. I couldn't close my right eye for several weeks, couldn’t chew or taste food on my right side, and I couldn't tear up on that side. I also had a constant loud buzzing in my ear.

But, the worst part was that I couldn't fully smile. More than anything, I just wanted to smile again. I LOVE to smile. It lights up my soul. I felt like I was stuck in someone else's body. But, I knew I had to be patient and let my body heal.

Once I returned to work in April and life seemed to return to a new normal, I debated canceling our upcoming wedding. In my heart, though, I knew I couldn’t let the tumor get in

I still get angry about what happened—angry at my body, angry at God. There are days I’d rather not smile in front of thousands of people watching the news, in fear of them noticing something not quite 100 percent.

On those frustrating days, Phil looks me straight in the eye and always says with a smile, “Look how far you’ve come.”

It’s a simple reminder. The truth is, we all have hurdles, and it’s never easy; it’s how we perceive our challenges that changes everything. Brain surgery forced me to accept that some things are out of my control. I can’t act like my surgery never happened. I’m alive, and I’m doing the best I can. We all have something that’s challenging.

I also remind myself that I’m extremely blessed for the miracle surgeons at the University of Michigan. They saved me from something that could have caused irreversible damage or worse to my body. I’ve learned how sensitive, yet resilient and brilliant, the human body is.

Sure, my hearing isn’t as strong as it used to be, my facial nerve is still healing and sometimes my balance likes to test me. But I know that I’m capable of overcoming more than I realize. We all are.

On Feb. 12, as I struggled to lift my bandaged head in ICU and format sentences, I never thought I would smile with my mom during my wedding rehearsal, that I would dance with my dad during my reception, or laugh with Phil while we celebrated our wedding. But I did all of that.

Sometimes, things happen in this universe that take our smiles away. But if we see the world differently, we can learn how to get our smiles back. We can use them to help inspire others, and maybe, use them to help others smile again, too.

Melissa Smith became the morning news anchor for TV 7&4 News in 2010. When she’s not covering news stories, Melissa loves hunting for Petoskey stones, hiking the beautiful shores of Port Oneida in Leelanau County and enjoying life with her family in the mitten. As a devoted animal advocate, she helps dogs and cats get adopted from Cherryland Humane Society through TV 7&4’s weekly segment, Pet Talk. Melissa currently lives in Traverse City with her three favorite little cat girls, Bella, Stella and Lola, and her husband, Phil.

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MY BROTHER, the

BY MARY REXER-BLUHM

I WAS 11, and it was December, and I couldn’t believe what was happening. Just weeks before Christmas I found myself embroiled in the most crucial debate of my young life: Was Santa Claus real?

Kids at school had been murmuring all month, releasing speculation balloons, waiting to see what floated.

“He has to be real,” my best friend assured me. “My parents couldn’t afford all those gifts.”

“Don’t be stupid!” a boy in homeroom cawed.

“No one can make it around the world in one night.”

The discussions made me itchy. Unlike the past when I’d be on a festive high for weeks, this time I was stressed and agitated. Slowly, as each day in December passed, logic and reason overtook my childhood wonder. By the time Christmas Eve arrived, I was bereft. I’d come to the conclusion there was no Santa Claus.

When my family gathered that night to celebrate, I was sluggish and sad. I pawed through gifts under the tree for show; I watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer with a sneer. Nothing seemed right. The food my mother had made—meatballs, sliced ham, fudge… none of it was good enough. Even the fancy decorated sugar cookies held no appeal for me. No one seemed to notice, though, the difference in this Christmas; the difference in me.

Well, almost no one.

Towards the end of the night my 20-year-old brother found me sitting

alone, staring at the Christmas tree and squinting my eyes, converting the white string of lights into unfocused stars.

“Hey kid, have you ever looked out Mom and Dad’s bedroom window on Christmas Eve?” he asked as he swept his long bangs from his forehead.

“No,” I scoffed as only an 11-year-old can.

“What for?”

“Follow me.”

I trudged down the narrow hallway, my shoulders slumped, a sigh ready on my lips.

When I reached the bedroom door, my brother was already at the window, clutching the lace curtain, pushing it to the side for a better view.

He was backlit from the bright winter moon and I watched him for a long moment. Since his wedding that previous spring, Ray seemed to have grown stronger, more substantial. He was less and less the boy who’d lived in the house with his kid sister just months before, and more a married man. An adult. I missed him at home.

With him gone, it was as though I were an only child.

“Do you see that?” Ray asked, pointing out the window.

I followed his finger, and in the dark distance, a small red light blinked.

“That’s Rudolph,” my brother whispered. “And he looks awfully close, doesn’t he? That means Santa’s almost here!”

I studied my brother carefully, sure he was kidding, but his face was serious, even awe-struck, and my mind did a slow turn. Wow, I thought with renewed excitement. If my brother still believes in

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I stayed at the window a while longer with Ray. He didn’t put his arm around me or hold my hand, but I could feel our closeness as we stood side-by-side. And although I couldn’t define it at the time, that was the night my brother became my hero—that Christmas Eve, as we watched Santa approach.

The next morning as I opened the new gifts from Santa, I smiled at my brother and he gave me a wink.

And now, in addition to Santa, I had my brother to believe in.

Mary Rexer-Bluhm is a graduate of Michigan State University and has worked at the University of Michigan as a grant writer for over 30 years.

Her essays have been published in the Ann Arbor Observer and she is the winner of an ADDY Award for excellence in advertising copy. Mary loves to read and write but hates arithmetic. She lives in Ann Arbor with her wonderful husband, Rick, and her goofy yet endearingly sweet dog, Ceasar. Mary can be reached at maryrex@umich.edu.

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New

HOLIDAY

Traditions

BY DONNA HOGARD

THE FAMILY AT CHRISTMAS DINNER.

PINE. The rich scent of pine wandered our home every Christmas. Always - a giant, fresh-cut pine would fill the family room window. (To the ceiling and fat!) Its trunk was painfully wedged into the vintage metal star tree stand, and its branches were filled with glass ornaments. My mom would dutifully crawl underneath to fill it with water and the multitude of ornaments and lights would precariously dance and tingle.

On the fireplace mantel, old school cotton lay beneath the porcelain figurines of carolers and trees. AND turkey... the potent aroma of turkey slowly filled the house as it baked overDONNA AS A CHILD ON SANTA’S LAP. night. Mom would fuss over the giblets as she painstakingly conjured the gravy. A mountain of potatoes were mashed.

And, oh yes, there were gifts to open. But even as a child, I could hardly wait to fill my plate. All gathered around the table together, we’d laugh and tell stories. Mashed potatoes, cranberry, gravy, rolls... and dad loved his oyster casserole. Truly, there is no meal like a “Hogard” holiday meal. Except this year.

This year it would be different. All of it.

My father, plagued by Alzheimer’s, had recently passed. Mom was newly residing in a tiny 500-square-foot apartment here in Michigan. Weary from years of care, she was here to rest and decide her next chapter.

As the leaves turned brilliant colors my gut turned as well. The holiday season. It used to fill my heart with anticipation. Now. Now it was a giant void rushing toward me.

My childhood home sat empty, silent. Eighteen years of my son going to Mema and Grampa’s house for Christmas. Everyone arriving and all the preparations. Everything was different. Now what?

How do you replace decades of childhood sights, sounds, smells and memories? Your child’s memories?

You don’t.

From behind the kitchen door, here they came!

The servers and the chef paraded into the room with celebration... each carrying a wood serving block that was laden with a lovely turkey meal, prepared only for us.

Here, in a local Traverse City restaurant, my family surrounded me. The fire glowed behind my mom, sitting at the helm of the table. The food. Delightful with a nod to old tradition.

The air was festive. The staff joked and loved on us. We were all together with a wonderful meal, welcoming the holiday. Though my dad’s absence was deeply felt, what had loomed with uncertainty was now peaceful. Joyful. These generous TC hearts brought us a new Christmas. New memories.

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Nov/Dec '18

CHEF GRANT AND THE AUTHOR’S MOTHER, BETTY.

After hugs from the staff and our beloved chef, we waddled back to mom’s tiny apartment for a few gifts.

On that first year without my father, the chef and servers brought us far more than a holiday meal... rather, they were our angels, bringing a deeply needed spirit of warmth, joy and love. They helped us turn a new chapter in life with grace and heart. Memories were not replaced - they were remembered and then joined by new ones.

Donna Hogard is a freelance writer. She lives in Traverse City and has a son, Luke. Donna can be reached at donnahogard@gmail.com.

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Grand Traverse Woman

Not just for kids NAVIGATING THE HOLIDAYS AS AN ADULT 'CHILD' OF DIVORCE

BY WENDY SOBECK

PEOPLE always say divorce is hardest on the children. But what if the “child” is a 35-year-old woman with a husband and two kids of her own?

I can tell you from my own experience, it doesn’t matter how old you are… when mom and dad call it quits, it rocks your world!

My parents divorced in 2006 after 35 years of marriage. At the time, I was married with two young children of my own. The first several years after the divorce were rocky and emotional, and my parents, brother and I all had to navigate our way through to our “new normal.”

The holidays and other special occasions were the worst for me after my parents’ separation. My mom and dad are both from huge Polish Catholic families. The holidays were big events for both sides of my family when I was growing up.

With the end of my parents’ marriage, I knew that my children would not grow up with the same kind of multigenerational holiday gatherings I had. It hurt me so much to know my young children wouldn’t remember their grandparents together as a couple, let alone have the same kinds of memories I had created with my own grandparents and family over the years.

NEW PATTERNS My parents both went on to marry other people. The addition of step parents to the mix was yet another big change to our family dynamic.

My husband and I ended up spending more time with his family at the holidays. I love my in-laws dearly, but deep down, I longed for “the good old days” of family gatherings with MY family… with MY parents.

My personal enjoyment of the various holidays was greatly diminished at times, which I hid from everyone except my husband. So, I focused on creating new traditions with my own

18

Nov/Dec '18

children and saw each of my parents individually when we could.

Once my father retired, he and my stepmother became “snowbirds” and spent the winters in Arizona. I didn’t get to see him during holidays at all for several years. He’d always be gone out west by the first of November.

In 2016, I had a very emotional conversation with my father about missing him terribly at the holidays. My brother had expressed this to him as well. After that discussion, my dad and stepmom decided to stay home in Michigan until after Christmas for the first time in over five years.

COMING TOGETHER In the years since my parents’ divorce, my mom and dad have finally come to a point where they are not only able to be around each other, but they get along really well. My mom and step mom like each other, too.

When my dad and step mom decided to stay in Michigan for the 2016 Christmas season, the plan was for my mom and brother to come to my house in Traverse City on Christmas Day. My mom was single again at this time, as was my brother, so rather than drive separately the 165 miles across the state, my dad kindly suggested they ride together with him and my step mom.

My mother hates winter driving, so this saved her some stress.

After my husband, kids and I opened gifts that Christmas morning, I spent the rest of the morning prepping Christmas Day dinner. I made a big turkey, ham and all the sides and fixings. I wanted everything just right for my first big family Christmas in a very long time.

They arrived late morning after a snowy drive from Alpena. I knew they were all riding togeth-

er, but was pleasantly surprised to learn that not only did my dad book a hotel room for him and my step mom, but he also generously booked one for my mom and brother too. He knew I did not have a spare bedroom to accommodate any of them comfortably, and he wanted everyone to get a good night’s sleep. I was very touched by that gesture.

After all the initial hugs and greetings, my dad and brother settled into the living room with my husband and kids to watch football and visit, while my mom and step mom helped me with getting the meal preparations finished. We chatted and laughed as we cooked, reminiscing about past holidays. I watched and smiled as my mom and step mom talked like old friends.

While we waited for everything to be ready, I happily observed my teenage son and daughter thoroughly enjoying their time with their grandparents.

THE AUTHOR WHEN SHE WAS 4 YEARS OLD, RECEIVING A DOLLY FROM MRS. CLAUS, CHRISTMAS 1975.

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Grand Traverse Woman THE OTHER SIDE Finally, it was time to set the dining room table and gather the family to feast. As is our family tradition at the holidays, we joined hands to say grace before we ate. I led the prayer and could not get through it; I choked up and blubbered my way through, instead.

There was so much joy in my heart to have my entire family with me for Christmas! Everyone happy. Everyone together. It was the most incredible gift.

I could see we had at long last come through the gauntlet of my parents’ divorce and arrived at the other side. We are family… just a little different shape than we once were. My parents agreed that we had to do this more regularly going forward.

My dad is still no fan of winter weather, but he has agreed to stay in Michigan through Christmas every second or third year.

That way we can have the whole family together. I’ve had so many incredible Christmases over the years, but the Christmas of 2016 was so special to me.

For the little girl inside me, the magic of Christmas was restored that day.

Wendy Sobeck is a wife and mother of teenage son, daughter and adult stepdaughter, and has a passion for writing. Wendy has been the traffic and billing manager at Midwestern Broadcasting Company in Traverse City for 25 years.

Join us in celebrating 20 years!

1999 2019

year celebration

Traverse Area District Library is celebrating the 20th anniversary of the Main Library building in Traverse City. Join us at these events.

COMMUNITY OPEN HOUSE January 10, 2019 TADL GALA January 11, 2019 Get more information and purchase Gala tickets at: www.tadl.org/gala or visit the Main Library Welcome Desk.

Buy GALA tickets at tadl.org/gala

LET’S CELEBRATE!

BOOK OF INSPIRATION, HOPE AND FORGIVENESS

nveils how God never gave up on her. She takes l journey through the storms of life to hope and hip with God is tested. She faces challenges in eartbreak in pregnancy loss, and deaths of family unforgiveness and anger from shocking betrayals. n and grief, she turns to God for hope, allowing ish and her brokenness to heal.

inspirational easy reading book. She reveals the the role that God played in allowing her to rise and though especially significant to Catholics, it ls of all Christians who have found themselves in ad, will find it therapeutic in dealing with their DY WINKEL, MSW, ACSW

fe in ways that most people don’t imagine. This is cially for those who have experienced devastating , Barbara Kudwa courageously takes the reader ly events and problems that she has encountered. ons, she shows the reader how her spirituality depths of depression and anxiety to begin her life n absolute inspiration to all who struggle with Y VANN, PhD, Family Psychologist

finding god Anew

gives up on You!

finding god Anew How I Fell AwAy And RetuRned to God despIte dIvoRce, BetRAyAl, And peRsonAl tRAGedy

B A r B A r A K u d wA

ver give us more than we can handle, but what face feels insurmountable? You are not alone. In s her journey of feeling overwhelmed by challenges stead of falling, Barb found God right next to edy, trauma, and loss. She shares her courageous ecome the beautiful woman she is today. Finding w to survive the greatest of sufferings and learn to L, Director, Michael’s Place

GIVE AND ENJOY

EKIAL PRESS

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Grand Traverse Woman

Being up front

TALKING about mental health and mental illness has never been taboo in my family. My cousin moved in with us because her mother was schizophrenic, and we were always open about it. So, when I felt like I needed support to work through some stresses in college, I didn’t hesitate to see a counselor. I have continued to be open about seeking support through life’s ups and downs. I want others to be confident in seeking counseling, medication and self-care.

COUNSELOR GUIDANCE

MY MENTAL WELLNESS JOURNEY

I first saw a counselor when in college. I was working a security job with strange hours, struggling through the loss of a relationship, and dealing with the regular stress that comes along with college. I only did this for a short time, but it helped me get through my rough patch and I knew that counseling would help if I ever needed it again.

In 2007, I had my first child. It should have been a happy time in my life. Instead, my marriage started to disintegrate, and I began seeing a counselor again. By the fall of 2008, my husband and I decided to separate. I struggled to get through the day without crying.

BY STEFANIE TSCHIRHART-BALDWIN

ADDITIONAL SUPPORT I knew that I needed to take another step and looked into going on an antidepressant. Due to the stigma surrounding these types of medications, I reluctantly went to my doctor about it. But it was a game changer.

Because of the medication, I got through my separation from my husband and even made a few last wonderful memories with him and my daughter prior to his suicide two months later.

After my husband’s suicide, I joined a support group for suicide survivors through Hospice of Northern Michigan in Petoskey. I continued my medication, but never relied on it solely. I also saw a private counselor and started blogging. I found that blogging and sharing my writing was a huge part of my healing.

By sharing my story, I have found that I am not alone; almost every person I’ve met has a connection to mental illness, suicide or both. I feel I’m helping erase the stigma of these topics.

GRATITUDE JOURNAL My second husband and I were married in 2009. We each had a toddler daughter from a previous marriage. In addition to learning what it meant to be a suicide survivor, I was beginning my journey as a mom in a blended family. I continued my counseling, but by 2012 I decided to see how I was without the medication. With the OK from my doctor, I weaned off of it.

During the 2013-2014 school year, I was struggling in my job teaching at a private boarding school. I am a special education teacher.

Unfortunately, the school climate was negatively impacted by a personnel change.

I tried to manage my feelings through positive movements at the school. I orchestrated events for Teacher Appreciation week and passed around a flower of gratitude to recognize individuals for good deeds. Due to my schedule, I had to stop seeing my counselor.

I decided I needed to counteract the negativity. In my personal life, I started sending notes of gratitude and writing a gratitude journal.

Each of these things helped, but not enough. By 2015, I began to look for a new job. I eventually joined an established tutoring center as the center director. I looked forward to this challenge and to using my education in a different way; I thought it would be a good fit for our family, too.

I was optimistic and excited when I started this job. I thought that it would be a welcome challenge and fit well with my family. Still, while I had some daytime flexibility, I hated being away three evenings a week.

I also didn’t like the sales part of the job.

20

Nov/Dec '18

ROUGH PATCH In addition to my job dissatisfaction, my husband was in a head-on car accident in January. He was diagnosed with a concussion, traumatic brain injury, and a herniated disc in his neck. This meant that I had to take on more responsibility at home while he healed.

I didn’t realize how much his accident and my job dissatisfaction were impacting me until one day I left work to run errands and I couldn’t stop crying. I knew that I needed to make some changes.

I couldn’t get into my primary care doctor, so I went to urgent care and they were able to get me on an anti-anxiety and antidepressant immediately. I promised to make appointments with my doctor and counselor, and I did so that day. I also turned in a job application for an immediate teacher opening at a virtual school.

BOOT CAMP Within two weeks, I accepted a new job at that virtual school and started a month later. I also saw an improvement right away from my medication. I saw the counselor a couple of times, but ultimately found that she was not a good fit.

Last fall, I decided to take on even more of my self-care and joined a boot camp class as part of a weight loss challenge. I started eating better and working out four to five days a week. While I felt stronger, I still struggled with my lack of energy.

I decided to give Whole30 (a diet based on eating whole foods for 30 days) a try to kick my addiction to sugar and see if I could increase my energy level. Not only did I see a difference on the scale and in the mirror, I felt happier and had more energy. In March, I started running four days a week and continued to go to the boot camp class four days a week. I think that I have found my holy grail. I look forward to my evening runs. When I feel stressed, I feel better after a run.

TIME FOR ME I went into this summer with more energy than in summers past. I have felt happy and relaxed. I even went out of my comfort zone and did a camping trip with each of our three daughters.

Life has thrown me curveballs and I have found my way around each of them through seeking support, taking medication, exercising and eating well. I’ve learned that there is no one-size-fits-all, and finding that healthy and happy mind is just as important as physical well-being.

Stefanie Tschirhart-Baldwin is going into her second full year as a high school special education teacher at Michigan Great Lakes Virtual Academy. She lives in Lake Ann with her husband, their three daughters, and two dogs.

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Grand Traverse Woman H

Celebrating 2 Years !

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to all of our loyal customers for their generous donations.

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SAIL INTO BETTER HEALTH. Many women come to me for chiropractic care with the same problem: pain from their workouts. It might be from biking, running, sailing or strength training. There’s so many ways to help! I love bringing health back to my patients. I love being outdoors and working out, too, and often have been “in your shoes.” Let me help you get back to your active lifestyle. There’s nothing worse than sitting out because of back pain or a hurt knee or shoulder!

Chiropractic care has been shown to help improve health such as flexibility, reduction of pain, and increased mobility. With the right adjustments, and sometimes a little tweak to your form, you can be back doing what you love.

When I’m not in the office, I’m in the woods or on the water with my family and dogs. And, most days, you’ll come in to the office and find my mom, son, a dog or all three to greet you at the door!

Holly Donaldson, D.C. 231.929.1335 www.traversecitychiropractic.com

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Nov/Dec '18 21

Grand Traverse Woman

Christmas

WITHOUT MY PARENTS

Starting New Traditions

BY BARBARA KUDWA

DURING this time of year, I face one of life’s

The tree was decorated with colored twinkling lights and ornaments used throughout hardest questions: How do I celebrate the holthe years. I loved looking for my childhood idays without my parents? I feel numb, disoriornaments. Each year, the gifts kept stacking ented and empty as the months of November higher and higher. I can still see my dad with and December approach. a Santa hat on, smiling and distributing the My dad was 90 years old and going strong. gifts of love. Over the years, from my parWho would have guessed how the month ents’ example, I learned how to give to others after his fall would play out? We celebrated unselfishly. my parents’ sixty-eighth wedding anniversary Celebrating Christmas Eve without my in hospice. Two days later, my father’s golden parents didn’t seem possible. I felt like my heart stopped beating, and his hard-working world had suddenly turned upside down. My hands were crossed and laid to rest. counselor suggested I could carry on some of Forty days later, having barely begun to my parents’ traditions, but also to add some grieve my father’s death, my mom’s heart newness. stopped beating, and she unexpectedly Instead of late afternoon on Christmas passed. My mother died of a broken heart.

Eve, we started gathering at my parents’ home How could this be? She was so full of life! We THE AUTHOR'S LOVING PARENTS, KEN AND JEANIE KNUDSEN. around noon. My parents had left their house had just watched the sunset together. to their children.

I felt empty walking into our home without the warmth How could I cope and move forward? Who would carry on our family of a hug from my loving parents.

The tree was decorated simply with traditions? I was told the “firsts” of holidays and celebrations would be lights and placed near the middle of the living room. My parents’ photo extremely difficult, and my mind began to travel back to my childhood. hung on the top of tree with care and photos of my siblings hung on the My home wasn’t large, three bedrooms and one bathroom, but there branches below. sure was a lot of love. I was one of eight siblings, four girls and four boys.

Christmastime was not the same without my parents, but spending I grew up not realizing we didn’t have a lot of money.

Christmas Eve with my family helps me heal. I started to incorporate As one of the younger siblings, I remember throwing silver tinsel on family traditions with newness. We not only have a traditional Christmas the lower part of the Christmas tree over the lights perfectly placed by my Eve in memory of my parents, but we also created a new tradition. Once a dad. I remember stringing popcorn and eating snowball-sized popcorn month my family gathers at my parents' home for fun, laughter and pizza. balls. I remember sipping my mom’s hot chocolate, the tiny marshmalChange is never easy, especially during the holidays. But I will conlows floating on top. I remember all of it. tinue with a new Christmas Eve tradition, making new memories filled Each Christmas Eve was filled with food, sweets, love and laughter with love and laughter. from my family. Each year, I’d go to bed with the anticipation of opening the only gift I’d receive on Christmas morning. After opening my gift, I’d get dressed to celebrate mass with my family. There was a roast for dinner and a birthday cake for Jesus. I will forever hold my fond memories tight.

Christmas traditions changed as my family unit expanded with sistersin-law, brothers-in-law, nieces, nephews and their children. Christmas day was no longer the main celebration. In time, every Christmas Eve, over two dozen family members would gather at my parents’ home sharing stories, cheers and loud laughter.

The mixture of food and treats was delicious and plentiful. Each year we shared with our local shelters. And always there was the birthday cake for Jesus. The manger was large with one shining light, and the youngest child would carry baby Jesus over to the manager as we all sang “Happy Birthday.”

22

Nov/Dec '18

Author and keynote speaker Barbara Kudwa was born and raised in Traverse City, as were her parents Kenneth and Jeanie Knudsen. She’s written this in memory of her loving parents and she’s thankful for all the memories that she holds close to her heart. She looks forward to the new memories yet to come. Barbara is the author of Finding God Anew. You can find out more at www.barbfindsgodanew.com.

www.grandtraversewoman.com

Grand Traverse Woman

HOLIDAY

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Nov/Dec '18 23

Grand Traverse

Grand Traverse Woman

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RELIGION/ Christian Life/ Inspirational

“Barbara Kudwa has penned an inspirational easy reading book. She reveals the darkest moments in her life and the role that God played in allowing her to rise above them. Beautifully written, and though especially significant to Catholics, it unquestionably will touch the souls of all Christians who have found themselves in the depths of despair. All who read, will find it therapeutic in dealing with their most difficult life issues.” —JUDY WINKEL, MSW, ACSW

“We often hear that God will never give us more than we can handle, but what happens when the challenge we face feels insurmountable? You are not alone. In Finding God Anew, Barb shares her journey of feeling overwhelmed by challenges she thought would break her. Instead of falling, Barb found God right next to her through suicide, divorce, tragedy, trauma, and loss. She shares her courageous battles and how she survived to become the beautiful woman she is today. Finding God Anew is a roadmap on how to survive the greatest of sufferings and learn to live again.” —MINDY BUELL, Director, Michael’s Place

finding god Anew How I Fell AwAy And RetuRned to God despIte dIvoRce, BetRAyAl, And peRsonAl tRAGedy

B A r B A r A K u d wA

“Psychotrauma can impact your life in ways that most people don’t imagine. This is truly a book for everyone but especially for those who have experienced devastating events. In Finding God Anew, Barbara Kudwa courageously takes the reader through the details of tragic family events and problems that she has encountered.

With open and honest descriptions, she shows the reader how her spirituality facilitated her recovery from the depths of depression and anxiety to begin her life anew and with elation. She is an absolute inspiration to all who struggle with life-changing events.” —GARY VANN, PhD, Family Psychologist

finding god Anew

god never gives up on You!

A

uthor Barbara Kudwa unveils how God never gave up on her. She takes you down a very personal journey through the storms of life to hope and healing as her relationship with God is tested. She faces challenges in marriages resulting in divorces, heartbreak in pregnancy loss, and deaths of family members, along with holding onto unforgiveness and anger from shocking betrayals.

Experiencing trauma, anxiety, pain and grief, she turns to God for hope, allowing her relationship with God to flourish and her brokenness to heal.

EZEKIAL PRESS

I want to help others heal from their brokeness. For that reason, after costs and expenses, a portion of the proceeds from the sale of this book will be directed to help Christ Renews His Parish (CRHP), Christian Radio, and Catholic Service Appeal (CSA).

24

Nov/Dec '18

Ezekial Press

Traverse City, MI

© 2016 Barbara Kudwa

BARBARA KudwA

BOOK OF INSPIRATION, HOPE AND FORGIVENESS

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Grand Traverse Woman

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Grand Traverse

Grand Traverse Woman

WOMAN

2018 GIFT GUIDE

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Oryana Community Co-Op www.oryana.coop Handcrafted gift baskets to fit any taste or budget. Filled to the brim with your favorite local, unique gift items.

Call to discuss your perfect order.

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SHARE MOMENTS, SHARE A CLEAN HOUSE

Orchard Cleaning Services www.orchardcleaningservices.com We provide residential, commercial, and rental cleaning services using all natural cleaning products.

Prices start at $88 (2 hour minimum) 231.883.1489

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Grand Traverse Woman

GIVE THE GIFT OF FUN!

Incredible Mo's www.incrediblemos.com Purchase a $25, $40 or $60 gift card and get bonus arcade cash!

GIVE THE GIFT OF LITERACY

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Golden-Fowler Home Furnishings www.goldenfowler.com Escape from holiday stress and enjoy a free Fire 7 tablet with your Fjords® Comfort or Relaxed Collection purchase.

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Traverse Area District Library www.tadl.org/donate Make a donation to the Traverse Area District Library in honor of a friend or family member and share the gift of reading with your community.

GIVE THE GIFT OF HEALTH!

Cowell Family Cancer Center www.munsonhealthcare.org Special holiday offer: Buy 1 ten class punch card for $100, get a second 50% off for Yoga and Pilates classes. *Must mention Grand Traverse Woman when purchasing.

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Thank you to our advertisers for your support all year long in GTWoman!

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Grand Traverse Woman

Need a local attorney?

Find one in our Attorney Directory at

www.GTLABA.org

Are you an attorney but not a GTLA Bar member?

Join Grand Traverse, Leelanau, Antrim Bar Association to be in the Attorney Directory and for other benefits.

BY SAMANTHA TOWNE

WHEN I was 17, I was on my own and a teenage mother to my 6-month-

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old baby girl. Today, at 24 years old, I am married, have three beautiful children, and am in a place I own and can call home. The obstacles I had to go through were difficult and I am astonished at what I’ve accomplished. Now I’m no longer a young and broken girl, and I feel blessed that I went through it all.

MOTHERLY INSTINCTS When I was 10, I was a mother to my younger brother. He was my mother’s third child after her second marriage and fourth proposal. We never knew where our mother was, only where she may have been.

My mother was often with men who never truly cared for her or her three children. She didn’t see the evil in the controlling men she surrounded herself with, even when they abused her and her children. Even now, 20 years later, I remember those terrifying days with clarity.

I did not want to go down that path, so I took charge of those nights my brother cried at 2 a.m. I embraced the challenges and cared for him as though he was my own. Having him as my responsibility at such a young age prepared me for the challenges to come.

YOUNG MOTHER, TOUGH SITUATION At age 17, I was alone, scared and underfed. I found out I was pregnant and became a mother to a beautiful baby girl, Jessie. If I married the father like he had asked me to, I would not be making the right choice for myself or my child.

So, my daughter and I lived in a host home that simply gave us a shelter, a roof over our heads. It provided us with warmth, a toilet and a bed.

Host homes care for a teenager until they graduate from high school and a non-profit organization pays a small amount of money to the host family.

The alternative high school I attended helped connect with the non-profit's services.

My brother was still with my mother and her boyfriend, and I expected my new environment to help me provide for myself and my daughter.

Sure, the family cared for my daughter and I, but the house was poorly kept and it smelled awful. There was trash stashed in the corners of every room and the kitty litter had not been changed in months. The dishes didn’t get touched until all the cabinets were empty, and no food was ever hot in the kitchen. But even so, these challenges did not stop me from providing for my baby.

www.grandtraversewoman.com

Grand Traverse Woman MAKING THE BEST OF IT I hid paper plates, plastic-ware, canned foods and peanut butter in my dresser drawers. I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom floors. Every evening I walked around the home with a garbage bag and picked up the trash I wanted to be a good mother to my child. I placed my daughter in a highchair in the kitchen and she watched me do the dishes while I sang “You Are My Sunshine.” Still, I asked myself, how can you raise a child in a dump like this?

FAMILY RESCUE

About six months later, my grandparents invited us to live with them, and my daughter and I got out of that disgusting home. I completed my highschool credits and although my grandparents never requested rent, I paid them $400 a month for all they had done. I worked two jobs while going to school, too.

I met my husband, Mark Jr., at Traverse City High School, and he showed me there are men in the world that do not try to take advantage of you, control you or abuse you. We eventually saved for our own apartment and I graduated from college.

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A FAMILY OF MY OWN Today I have a bachelor’s degree in social work through Ferris State University. Mark Jr. adopted Jessie and he cares for her like she’s his own. Since day one, Mark Jr. has always wanted to be there for his family.

We’ve embraced life’s challenges, and now, Jessie is 7. Mark Jr. and I also have two other children, a daredevil 3-year-old daughter and a silly 15-month-old son. We own our own home and are a blessed family of five.

In life, I’ve learned to always move forward. I’ve found that when you choose to embrace your challenges, you do find a way through them, even in the hardest times.

Samantha and her family live in Traverse City. She works in club demonstration services at Costco and is currently looking for opportunities in the world of blogging and copywriting. You can follow her own blog at www.samanthatowne.com.

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Nov/Dec '18 29

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Grand Traverse Woman

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Grand Traverse Woman

A Long Way From the Mitten:

Our Adventures in Alaska

BY VALERIE WINANS

IN 2007,

our daughter Natalie returned from a trip to Alaska. She announced that she had the perfect job for her father and me—campground hosts in Denali National Park and Preserve. We were happily retired, but had always wanted to visit Alaska. After thinking it over, we decided to apply for positions as campground hosts, thinking that we would probably not be hired anyway.

When we got the call that we had been hired as a team we were excited. It was all new to us as we not only had never been to Alaska, we did not have any experience as campground hosts. What would our duties be? Would the mosquitoes be as bad as some people told us? Would we have any wildlife encounters?

Just getting to the park was an adventure. The scenery was spectacular—purple mountain majesty, snow-capped peaks, and turquoise water in fast flowing rivers. Every turn of the road brought a serendipitous event. We sighted moose by the side of the road, grizzly bears, buffalo, stone sheep, and wild horses.

We were assigned to work at Savage River Campground—about 13 miles out into the park. Although we did receive some training, we really learned the job by being on the job and asking questions as problems arose.

THE FIRST ENCOUNTER We finished setting up our trailer on the site we would call home for the next five months, and decided to take a walk in the park. I was nervous at the outset because we were alone in the park. Our first walk in our new home was an affirmation that we were living in a zoo where all the animals roamed free.

It was a cold day for May, and there was still some snow on the ground.

I donned heavy wool socks, hiking boots, a hoodie, a winter jacket, gloves and a hat. I put the camera strap over my head and adjusted it for comfort before going out the door.

It was so quiet in the park. The sound of our boots crunched on the

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road gravel. Dave, my husband, the quintessential boy scout, kept shushing me.

“We won’t see any animals if you keep making so much noise,” he said.

The only animal I was eager to see was possibly a red squirrel, or maybe a magpie. As long as we stayed on the campground road, I was confident that we wouldn’t get lost. As I preoccupied myself with not getting lost, I looked up and saw Dave standing at a curve in the road. He motioned for me to come forward and be quiet.

What delightful thing was he so excited for me to see? I wondered. I hurried toward him, camera in hand. I reached the curve in the road and looked where he was pointing.

Yikes! A mother grizzly bear and two cubs were in the road ahead of us. My heart stopped beating. Fortunately, my extensive campgroundhost training kicked in, and I slowly began backing up. When I could no longer see the bears I assumed they could not see me, and I ran as fast as my feet would carry me back to the trailer.

When I finally reached our campsite, I turned to see where Dave was.

No Dave. He was on his own. I felt somewhat safer after I got inside and shut the door. But where was Dave? Should I call for rescue? After what seemed like a millennium, he came back.

“Did you get a picture?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? There is NO picture because I was running for my life!” I said.

“Don’t be silly. Those bears were not the least bit interested in us. We did not pose any threat to them. They just went on their way looking for food,” he said casually.

I began to question if I was going to be able to do this job. If bears a city block away from me caused me this much angst, how would I be able to function on my own in the park? Luckily, the next few days brought co-hosts to the park, and then the campers started to arrive. It wasn’t long before every site was filled. We were no longer alone.

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Grand Traverse Woman

ALASKA’S SIGHTS Savage River Campground is a popular place for campers to stay for several reasons. Visitors to the park want to see grizzly bears, moose, caribou, wolves, lynx and mountain sheep. These can all be seen from Savage River Campground or nearby.

The next on a list of things to see is Mt. Denali. For many years, the official name was Mt. McKinley, named after the president from Ohio. But it was changed to Denali in 2015, the name used by native Alaskans. The mountain is only visible about 30 percent of the time from any location in the park. It is the largest mountain on the North American Continent—so big it creates its own weather system.

One camper on her second visit to the park was on a mission to see the mountain that had eluded her on her previous visit. She asked us to let her know if we saw the mountain, any time of the day or night. For most of the tourist season it doesn’t get dark at night. When you’re this close to the Arctic Circle, viewing the mountain at 2 or 3 a.m. is possible.

As I made my rounds in the campground, I always stopped to look for the mountain. It had so many different views. Sometimes it looked like a watermark on a page; other times it was stark white against a bright blue background—take-your-breath-away beautiful.

As luck would have it, the mountain stayed shrouded in clouds the whole time this visitor was in the park. The day after she left, as I made a turn in the road, there it was in all its splendor—bright white and unmistakable in its majesty.

.

MORE WILDLIFE We often saw bears in the park. They seemed to use the campground as a path from the mountains to the river. We saw lynx more than once, and we frequently saw moose too.

We were in our trailer having lunch one day when a moose came up and looked in the window. I said, “She thinks this is a people zoo, and we are in our cage.”

There was a Savage River pack of wolves, but we rarely saw them.

Caribou could be seen from time to time, too. Do you know the difference between a caribou and a reindeer? Caribou are wild, and reindeer are domesticated… and of course, reindeer can fly.

Ravens, magpies, grey jays, and ptarmigan were prevalent, as well as great horned owls. There is a town in Alaska called “Chicken.” Legend has it that they wanted to name the town Ptarmigan, but no one could spell it so they named it Chicken. There is a music festival in Chicken every year…they call it Chickenstock.

THE BOOKS

OUR BEAGLE Our fur baby, Remington Beagle, always walked with us as we made our rounds in the campground. I worked mornings into the afternoon, and Dave worked afternoon until the campground went to bed at night.

During host training, we learned that a moose will trample a person if it feels threatened. Moose also look at all dogs as if they are wolves, and wolves are a big threat to moose.

One morning, as Remington and I were making our rounds, we confronted a moose, maybe 15 or 20 feet in front of us. I began to talk softly to the cow moose. Remington and I slowly backed up, and, more importantly, Remington did not make a sound. I tugged on his leash, and he backed up with me toward the safety of some trees.

The top of my head would not even reach the shoulder of this beast, and its hooves looked as big as dinner plates to me. But I was more afraid for Remington than for me. I knew the moose could hurt him badly or kill him with a quick stomp. Suddenly, the moose turned away from us and ran off. With knees of jelly, we continued our job, checking permits and campsites

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The more we learned about the special place in which we lived, the more we wanted to know. I read everything I could find about Denali National Park and Preserve, especially Savage River Campground. My problem was that I could only find a paragraph here and there about the campground. I needed to write a book!

Our experiences living from May to the end of September for two seasons prompted my first book, Alaska’s Savage River: Inside Denali National Park and Preserve.

Since then, we have traveled back five more times, and each time I have written a travel blog in order to stay in touch with family and friends. My second book, Road Trip with Remington Beagle: Michigan to Alaska and Back was born from those blogs. Remington Beagle is the narrator of the book and the trip is told from a dog’s eye view.

I have so many stories of encounters in Alaska and every trip has changed our lives. And while we value the Grand Traverse Area in which we live, our favorite place in the whole world is Alaska and the road that takes us there.

Valerie Winans is originally from Lansing, where she met and married her high school sweetheart over 50 years ago. They are both retired from state government, and have lived in Traverse City for more than 40 years. Both of Valerie’s books are available at Horizon Books or on amazon.com in both paperback and e-book. Visit Valerie (and Remington Beagle!) www.valeriewinans.com.

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Grand Traverse Woman

AT The sTroke oF mIdnIghT A FAMIlY HOlIdAY MUSICAl saturday, november 24 11Am & 1:30pm Best for ages 7+ The family event of Thanksgiving weekend! It will take a miracle to help William, an overworked clock maker, discover the true meaning of the holiday season.

The InsIders Tom Petty Tribute Band Friday, november 9 The premier Tom Petty Tribute experience, rocking the best of the Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers catalog, from classic hits to fan favorites.

The AccIdenTAls, BeTh nIelsen chApmAn And mAy erlewIne wednesday, november 28 The Accidentals return with Songwriters Hall of Fame inductee Beth Nielsen Chapman and WYCE’s 2018 “Album of the Year” recipient May Erlewine.

VoIceplAy Warm Up-A Holiday Special Friday, december 7 Soaring to fame on NBC’s The Sing-Off, the enormously entertaining five-piece a cappella group, VoicePlay, is set to rock the house with an explosion of harmonious holiday sounds.

! p p A e h t t e G

sIsTer’s chrIsTmAs cATechIsm The Mystery of the Magi’s Gold saturday, december 15 It is “CSI: Bethlehem” in this holiday mystery extravaganza, as Sister takes on the mystery that has intrigued historians throughout the ages - whatever happened to the Magi’s gold?

Find it FREE in the APP STORE or GOOGLE PLAY 34

Nov/Dec '18

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Grand Traverse Woman

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Are you ready to take off toward better health?

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November 8 | 6 - 7 pm Otsego Memorial Hospital Professional Medical Building Conference Room 829 N. Center Ave., Gaylord, MI

November 29 | 6 - 8 pm Munson Medical Center Conference Room 1 - 3, Lower Level 1200 Sixth St., Traverse City, MI Also available via video conference at these Munson Healthcare locations: Cadillac Hospital, Charlevoix Hospital, Grayling Hospital, and Manistee Hospital.

To learn more or to register for an upcoming seminar, call 800-533-5520, or visit munsonhealthcare.org/bariatrics.

Blue Distinction Centers (BDC) met overall quality measures for patient safety and outcomes, developed with input from the medical community. A Local Blue Plan may require additional criteria for providers located in its own service area; for details, contact your Local Blue Plan. Blue Distinction Centers+ (BDC+) also met cost measures that address consumers’ need for affordable healthcare. Each provider’s cost of care is evaluated using data from its Local Blue Plan. Providers in CA, ID, NY, PA, and WA may lie in two Local Blue Plans’ areas, resulting in two evaluations for cost of care; and their own Local Blue Plans decide whether one or both cost of care evaluation(s) must meet BDC+ national criteria. National criteria for BDC and BDC+ are displayed on www.bcbs.com. Individual outcomes may vary. For details on a provider’s in network status or your own policy’s coverage, contact your Local Blue Plan and ask your provider before making an appointment. Neither Blue Cross and Blue Shield Association nor any Blue Plans are responsible for non-covered charges or other losses or damages resulting from Blue Distinction or other provider finder information or care received from Blue Distinction or other providers.

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Grand Traverse Woman

a

HEALTHY THROUGH THE HUSTLE:

Small Changes Make a Big Difference

BY BETH BARBAGLIA

WHAT comes to mind when you hear “get healthy”? A “been there, tried that” eye roll? A longing “yes, please” head nod?

Getting healthy doesn’t have to be a painful system overhaul. In fact, if you want lasting change, it needs to be the complete opposite; one needs to make small changes that, when thoughtful, add up over time.

With every choice we make, we’re either creating an environment of disease or an environment of health in our bodies. With every choice, you get a chance to choose health. Consider the following as you pursue a better you this fall:

1) Be Intentional

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It’s not often that we unintentionally improve ourselves. Binge watch four seasons on Netflix by accident? One hundred percent possible.

Have a bad day and accidentally run a marathon? Let yourself indulge and end up with a handful of carrots? Not likely.

Improvement doesn’t come without intentionality. What does that look like for you?

• Setting a daily reminder on your phone that says, “Breathe, be grateful, stand in your truth.”

• Scheduling to walk the neighborhood every night with a friend.

• Wearing a tracking device that reminds you to get up and walk each hour.

Whatever intentionality looks like for you, make a commitment to yourself and get your tools in place to help keep your goals in sight.

2) Add until you can take away When I used to work with clients as a health coach, people would lose their minds at the prospect of having to give up their *insert vice food or drink here.

I wouldn’t even have opened my mouth yet and they’d already be saying, “Don’t you dare tell me I have to give up chocolate!” In their minds, eating healthier was synonymous with “Take away all fun, flavor and a little part of my soul.” They were not having it.

So here’s where we’d start: Add a fruit and vegetable to each meal and eat them first.

That’s it. I didn’t give them a giant list of do’s and don’ts. We just started with adding a fruit and a vegetable to every meal.

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Grand Traverse Woman

Slowly, they started eating less of the junk food they were addicted to. Instead, the fiber and goodness of the fruits and vegetables filled them up. Their bodies began to crave less of the junk, and they were getting the nutrients they actually needed. Amazing!

3) Just choose one The number one downfall for people trying to upgrade their health is trying to change too much too fast.

If you decide one day that you are ready to be healthy and you flip every single habit on its head—trade pizza and fries for salads and smoothies, give up Coke and coffee for water and sleep, go on actual runs instead of watching reruns—your willpower will only carry you so far.

About 13 days later, you’ll become a very angry elf and give up on everything.

Instead, give yourself grace and start with one focus. You built your present habits over years, maybe even decades. So, don’t expect that they’ll all just disappear because of a wish upon a star and a string of good choices. This process won’t be perfect. It will be messy. And that’s OK. Choose one. Stay strong. Repeat.

Beth Barbaglia, MBA, is the marketing and communications director at the Grand Traverse Bay YMCA, a non-profit organization focusing on youth development, healthy living and social responsibility. As a former personal trainer, collegiate hockey player and health coach, Beth combined her MBA in marketing with her lifelong passion of health and wellness in a fulfilling career at the “Y.” She can be reached at bethb@gtbayymca.org.

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Grand Traverse WOMAN

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Grand Traverse Woman Established in 2005, our business is a local family owned company with over 10 years of experience. We love what we do! Call us for all of your household needs and we’ll make it sparkly beautiful for you!

Bonded & Insured

Through the Cleaning For Reason Foundation, we are pleased to donate up to four free cleanings for women undergoing cancer treatment. Visit www.cleaningforareason.org

Grand Traverse WOMAN

NETWORK NITE Wed. Nov. 7th • 5:00-7:00 pm

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Grab your leopard-print outfit or those sassy striped shoes and join us for our GTWoman’s Network Nite on Wednesday, Nov. 7th!

Northwood Animal Hospital will host us in their AAHA accredited facility Enjoy appetizers and adult beverages while catching up with old friends and making new! It’s a night of networking, relationship building and laughter. Bring along a co-worker, BFF or animal lover for a fun night!

YOUR 15 Seconds of Fame

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If you’d like to donate a prize for the evening, email GTWoman at kerry@grandtraversewoman.com.

We accept 10 women to take a moment at the mic to introduce themselves and give away a prize related to their business.

Register today at www.grandtraversewoman.com!

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Nov/Dec '18 39

Grand Traverse Woman

Christmas Trees Past & Present The Festival of Trees Returns Nov. 8-11 ZONTA ELVES: PEG JONKHOFF, MARY BALES AND DEB JACKSON.

MANY

Zonta elves will create beautiful trees and wreaths for the Festival of Trees again this year, along with seven area non-profit organizations. The unique trees will be up for the public to view and vote for by purchasing dollar chips, and the non-profits keep the proceeds of their voting chips. In addition, the wreaths and trees are available for purchase.

There will also be several trees designed by professional decorators vying for “People’s Choice” and bragging rights. This year’s festival will again be held at Golden Fowler Home Furnishings on Garfield Road in Traverse City, Nov. 8-11. Festivities begin with the Preview Party Thursday evening, Nov. 8.

THE LEGEND OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE Many legends exist to explain the origin of the Christmas tree. Nobody is really sure when fir trees were first used as Christmas Trees but it likely began about 1,000 years ago in Northern Europe. The first documented use of a tree at Christmas is from Latvia in 1501.

Trees were put up in the town square for pagan celebrations. In 1521 in Germany, a tree was paraded through the streets with a man riding a horse behind it. The man was dressed as a bishop, possibly representing St Nicholas.

The first person to bring a tree into the house, as we know it today, may have been German professor, Dr. Martin Luther (Some may not know he was a renowned figure during the Protestant Reformation.) The story is told that he was walking through the forest and

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looked up to see the starts shining through the branches. He thought it was beautiful and told his family that it looked like the stars of heaven had come down to earth for Christmas.

Early trees were small and sometimes hung upside down from the ceiling using chains. By the 17th Century, it was common in Germany to decorate trees indoors with edible ornaments such as gingerbread and gold-covered apples. Colored paper and gold-foil sweets were added and trees were often known as “sugartrees.” Sometime later, glass blowers began making colorful, miniature ornaments for the trees. In 18th Century France, candles were added.

The Christmas tree was introduced to the United States in the 1800s by German settlers.

It rapidly grew from tabletop size to floor-toceiling size. Around 1883, Sears, Roebuck & Company began offering artificial trees.

Families could purchase 33 limbs for 50 cents and 55 limbs for a dollar. Family traditions have evolved around the Christmas tree.

Zonta elves, Peg Jonkhoff, Deb Jackson and Mary Bales have beautiful childhood memories of Christmas trees. The three have continued their passion for Christmas trees and decorations in different ways.

ZONTA ELF: Peg

Peg’s favorite childhood memory is of piling everyone into Dad’s big red truck and searching for THE family tree “up on the 40,” a family parcel of land. The chosen tree was usually a

blue spruce, which the family decorated with strings of fresh popcorn, red and green paper chains, tinsel and special ornaments. The ornaments were a combination of family heirlooms and ones made by the children at school or church. Today, her family enjoys an 11-foot fresh Frazier fir every year in their home.

Peg loves Christmas trees of all sizes, shapes and colors. She has collected a treasure trove of 33 trees, which are put on display at the Reynolds Jonkhoff Funeral Home where they open the home for the community every other year to experience the magic of the trees.

They range from beautiful traditional themes to Charlie Brown to pheasant feathers to veterans’ memorabilia and more. The next full Christmas open house will be in 2019.

ZONTA ELF: Deb

Deb’s family always had a village set up around the base of their Christmas tree. Deb and her sisters helped decorate the tree but could spend hours setting up and rearranging the village below. Boxes and containers were put under cottony fabric to create hills for the sleds and an old oval mirror was the town skating rink. For many years, a train ran around the village. It amazed the family how their cat could walk through the village and rarely disturb a thing.

Deb remembers the neighbor across the street hung her tree upside down in her front window, which often caught passersby by surprise. For the Festival of Trees a few years ago,

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ZONTA ELF: Mary

Mary began her holiday decorating career early when, just in her teens, a neighbor paid her 25 cents each to wrap packages to go under the tree. At 16, her skill landed her a job with a local florist, who insisted on perfect bows on packages and arrangements. Later she worked for a builder in Portland, decorating homes, and eventually she opened her own decorating business in Delaware. She has been decorating wreaths and trees for Zonta for over 15 years.

THIS YEAR’S LINE-UP This year, the following local nonprofit organizations will compete for your $1 votes through beautifully decorated holiday room displays and Christmas trees. Your favorite organization gets to keep 100% of their proceeds!

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• The Rock of Kingsley There is something for everyone at this year’s festival. Check out the schedule for additional details about special demonstrations planned throughout the week. Visit http://zontacluboftraversecity.org/fot/.

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trouble (in the)1412 hood 1713 momma

Grand Traverse Woman

BY KERRY WINKLER

ONE (Turkey) STEP AT A TIME THE YEAR of my divorce was a hard one. I found myself facing the holiday season as a single parent and all of our holiday traditions shot to hell. We’d had little time to acclimate or to process the divorce and the holidays were here. I needed a new plan. So, quite by accident, this began our “year of the races.”

I’d taken to running to get through my emotions and my kids’ emotions too. My kids were 10 and 5 at the time and I would take them on evening runs—biking next to me, trying to clear our minds and focus on being outdoors and spending time together. And then one evening it hit me—we’d do a race together! We’d have a goal together as our new family unit. I wanted to help them focus on good things with lots of energy around us.

The Zombie Run held in October was our first 5k. We started to “train” by switching to family “runs” every night. We’d mix in mini-sprints from mailbox to mailbox. Over the next few weeks, we built up our endurance, as well as planned our Zombie costumes—let’s face it; that was really the biggest draw for the kids! The morning arrived. With her usual flair, Brook rolled out as a Zombie dressed in a purple dress. Max and I painted our faces white and mixed lots of baby powder into our hair to gray us up. As we joined the milling group of runners, I felt the good energy I was looking for. I calmed down a bit about how I would get through this next phase of life. We would get through this by doing fun races all through the holiday season.

It was no accident that I chose the Traverse City Turkey Trot next for our November race. The 5k race was held on the morning of Thanksgiving, my first major holiday as a single parent. I dreaded the day as I faced the reality of watching my kids get through a meal with an empty spot where their dad used to sit at my family’s holiday dinner, and to face part of that day alone when my kids would join their father’s family dinner. My feelings were the opposite of the gratefulness that day stood for and I knew I had to find a better way to face the day. So we got down to the business of making creative turkey hats, complete with hot glue

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gun shenanigans. The day dawned beautifully clear with sunshine and my spirits lifted as I bundled up the kids into the car. They resisted a bit, of course. This was not the usual holiday tradition and a lot of emotion hung just out of sight, teetering on the edge.

When we arrived at the start of the run, again I felt the energy of the crowd swarm around us. There were goofy turkey costumes and dogs with drumsticks on their heads as we lined up on Thirlby Field. What a thrill that was for them! My kids found joy in it, and so did I. I saw so many, many friends and they all had smiles and stories and I was happy!

Thanksgiving that year would be different, but now a good different. A new family tradition had been born.

Christmas loomed ahead. The dark nights got longer and the reality of the divorce was wearing on us all. I had to find a December race! I signed us up for the Jingle Bell Run to be held at night in downtown TC with bells, lights and Santas!

We assembled our costumes again—red and green! But this race would prove to be a bit of a challenge. I had not thought through the reality of navigating three miles after an ice storm.

There I was with two kids whose running shoes had essentially turned into ice skates—much to their delight and much to my concern. In the end, it was that race on ice that handed me back my gratefulness. Grateful we came out of it in one piece!!

I spent most of the race grabbing at their hoods, heads, arms, anything to keep them from tumbling on the ice and taking out other runners. They, of course, thought it was the best chase game ever and laughed when they fell, bouncing right back up.

So here we are years later into our new normal, and one race has stuck it out—the TC Turkey Trot. Every year, we get bundled up and employ our arsenal of turkey paraphernalia. We bring our golden retriever now and have asked other family members to join us. I know many friends will be there, I know turkey dinner is not far off and I know my kids are all right! It’s a good kick-off to the holiday season full of our new family traditions!

Kerry Winkler is the account director and copublisher of Grand Traverse Woman Magazine.

She lives with her 2 teenage kids in Interlochen.

She loves being active outdoors. She can be reached at kerry@grandtraversewoman.com.

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Grand Traverse Woman

momma 1614

BY KANDACE CHAPPLE WWW.KANDACECHAPPLE.COM

our

FIRST

DNF

It was well-earned. It was better than a DNS (Did Not Start)…because that also crossed our minds.

We had signed up for the Peak2Peak Mountain Bike Race at Crystal Mountain. I’ve raced it for many years, but this would be the first year that Nelson raced it. I was excited. He had done the kids’ races at the event before, but this was the real deal: The beginner adult race, 10 miles that weaves down through the Betsie River Valley and up along the back of the ski mountain. There was elevation. There was single track. There was mud.

On the morning of the race, Oct. 20, we left the house bright and early and, dare I say, optimistic. There were dark clouds everywhere but, over the resort to the south of us, there seemed to be a bit of brightness.

Nelson had agreed to race by not refusing to race.

“Look,” I said. “It’s July in Thompsonville!”

It was 41 degrees, but, suddenly, it looked like we would be able to run off serotonin for a good 30 seconds, at least.

Wrong.

We got to the resort, put on our number plates, downed our Hammer gel and then the rain started. The drops were wide, with a little belly to them. But still, nothing we couldn’t handle. Raincoats were added to our outfits. Thicker mittens. A set of hand warmers, a set of toe warmers. And then we sat in the car and waited a little longer to do something foolish.

By the time our wave started at 10 a.m., it was a downpour. A sleeting, driving, the-faster-you-go, the-more-it-hurts kind of rain. But it was too late to turn back. We were in the starting shoot and our pride was literally on the line. It was time to introduce Nelson to the winner’s mindset.

Off we went. Nelson and I had decided we would stay together. It would be some wonderful mother-son time. In this case, son wondering what his mother had talked him into.

The course is usually fun, zippy single track, a narrow ribbon of trail through the woods, fall leaves painting the dark woods yellow from the ground up. But not today. Today, the rain had summonsed the black swamp mud up from the depths of hell.

The trail was a black sliver of greasy chaos awaiting us. Our bikes stayed upright, but not without supreme effort, concentration and swearing. Yes, swearing. Maybe, I thought, Nelson would learn to love racing if he realized that cussing was not only allowed, but a part of the winner’s mindset.

Within the first few miles, the trail got so wet and slimy that our bikes were slipping out sideways from underneath us, like we were riding on ice. Our back tires would spin out in the deep mud, even when we were already traveling forward at a steady pace. And everywhere shiny and black roots in the trail popped up to push our tires out on a corner.

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Kandace Chapple is the editor and co-publisher of Grand Traverse Woman. She loves books, mountain biking and family. When her two kiddos, Cookie the dog, or work aren't calling, she’s out mountain biking on the gorgeous dirt trails of Northern Michigan. You can reach Kandace at kandace@grandtraversewoman.com. Read her blog at www.kandacechapple.com.

NORTHERN ART PHOTOGRAPHY

NELSON and I just had our first DNF: Did Not Finish.

At this point, everyone, and I mean everyone, in the race was thinking they were going to die. It was raining so hard you couldn’t see. And if you could, it was to see that your gears were covered in black mud, your hands had turned to frozen nubs on the handlebars and that your son was never going to speak to you again.

Finally, I called it. We would take the next road out. Nelson agreed in a nanosecond, his first words of the race. The woman behind me said she was coming with us. Others began stopping to assess their choices. We were part of several people looking for a lifeline back.

But I couldn’t remember a shortcut, not right away, possibly because I was too cold to function. The single track kept going and taking us farther and farther away from the life-giving heat of the vents in my gray Traverse parked at the resort.

By the time we dumped out somewhere I knew, we were 6 miles out.

There was no “fast” way back, and only one non-muddy escape route: M-115. Yes. It was so bad that I would ride one terrifying mile down the side of M-115 to get the hell out of there.

So we did, along with a few others. Meanwhile, the race directors were shortening the course and riders everywhere were hitching rides. Why didn’t I think to call for a ride too? My other son and mother-in-law were sitting back at the resort and would have been fabulous heroes. But my phone was tucked several layers under my gear because I didn’t have a waterproof phone case anymore, having replaced it with a pretty one just a few weeks ago. Pretty? That was no winner’s mindset.

Down we went along M-115, dodging cars who couldn't possibly move over into the empty far lane while going around us, before finally turning onto the road behind the resort.

“We’re going to live!” I announced to Nelson.

Which is when it started to snow. Heavily.

About then, Nelson chose to ride on the far side of the quiet resort road, from his mother. I didn’t blame him. My grand idea had turned into a bit of a disaster. But it was over now. We just had to peel the muddy layers off, climb into the car, and set the heat dial on 90 degrees with the fan on the deafening roar of “HIGH.” In the end, we clocked a full 10 miles. We’d gotten our first Peak2Peak in, one way or the other. We’d conquered a huge challenge together. The winner’s mindset viewed up close and personal. Mother-son bonding at its finest, right, Nelson? … Nelson?!

Nov/Dec '18 45

Grand Traverse Woman

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