Underwire Magazine December

december 12

Rachel Gresham

You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.

C.S. Lewis

Little Things

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Featuring 9 Stacey Servo 11 Maria Price 15 The Metzger Family

Publisher Laura Gr in stead editor@uwmag.com Designers Da niell e Hammo n B e ss McLau ghli n Photographers J e ssie K r iech-Higdo n C h el sea L ewi s Abby Ott Wh itney Neal photo@uwmag.com

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Little Things

Contributing Illustrator Annet t e Cable

Contr ibut ing Writers Lauri Arnold Jennifer M. Blair Latorial Faison Ellen Hagan Sarah Ivens Kimberly Trevisani Laura Wagner

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Copy Ed i to r Mariam Williams

B e Heard Underwired Magazine P.O. Box 5128 Louisville, Ky 40255 P (502) 403-9834 F 1-866-756-9799 editor@uwmag.com sales@uwmag.com

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u n d erwired m a ga z i n e .com Underwired® is published monthly by Be Media, LLC and is distributed throughout the Louisville, Ky and Southern Indiana area. Underwired® reserves the right unsuitable for our publication. The publisher accepts advertisements with the understanding that the advertiser is responsible for the content of the ads and absolves the publisher from all claims. Unsolicited artwork and manuscripts must be accompanied by a self-addressed, stamped envelope. Underwired® can not be held liable for the loss or damage of any artwork or manuscripts submitted for consideration.

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Little things mean a lot.

to edit or reject any material which may be deemed

Essays 8 You've Got Mail 10 All I Really Want for Christmas 14 It's the Little Things 18 Honoring All In Every Issue

20 Blighty Girl | 22 This I Believe | 24 Evolve 26 Raves | 29 Gidget | 30 End Quote P l e a s e r e c yc l e !

D e ce m be r Cove r Rach e l Gres h am

from the editor

R

achel Gresham is a pattern designer and illustrator from Nashville, Tennessee. Rachel graduated from Middle Tennessee State University with a BFA in painting in 2003. She then discovered surface pattern design, and that was that.

Shake things up... Because it's possible here!

Since launching her company in 2011, Rachel has created patterns for stationery, fabric and scrapbook companies, as well as logos and other projects for private clients. She combines handdrawn elements and naive renderings, often paired with bold color palettes.

She strives for beautiful, joyful designs inspired by the great outdoors, old children's books and a good cup of coffee.

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She composes new work in the deep nighttime after her husband and son are tucked into bed. To view more of Rachel's work, please visit www.etsy.com/shop/rachelgreshamdesign

Wired to support women in their pursuit of meaningful work, creative passion and other spirited adventures.

THE

U CREW

Laura Grinstead Publisher Life really is about the little things. Tell us about one simple pleasure... The little thing that makes you smile!

Slobbery kisses... From my dogs.

Jessie Kriech-Higdon Photographer Life really is about the little things. Tell us about one simple pleasure... The little thing that makes you smile!

I love having a long breakfast with my family and friends. I could sip coffee for hours and hours.

Look through her lens at Kriech-Higdon Photography, kriech-higdonphoto.com.

Jennifer M. Blair UW Columnist Evolve Life really is about the little things. Tell us about one simple pleasure... The little thing that makes you smile!

Fresh flowers. I love to purchase one- to two-dozen each week and add beauty to my surroundings—simple, elegant and joyful. It makes me smile no matter what is going on.

Sarah Ivens UW Columnist Blighty Girl Life really is about the little things. Tell us about one simple pleasure... The little thing that makes you smile!

A hot bath works miracles on a tired body or mind, and a little squirt of fragrant bubbles goes a long way. I used to go into the bathroom with a stack of books and magazines, reading until the water went cold and my toes crinkly. Now I just enjoy the warmth in silence, away from any distractions, wordy or otherwise. At least once a week, I'll pour a deep soak, add some drops of delight - usually from a L'Occitane or Jo Malone bottle - turn off the lights, shut the door and relish in my cheap and easy 20 minute cocoon.

6 < DECEM B ER 12 < Underwired

Chelsea Lewis Photographer Life really is about the little things. Tell us about one simple pleasure... The little thing that makes you smile!

Playlists. Whether I'm going for a run, driving in the rain, or hanging with friends at home, having just the right songs to set the tone for how I'm feeling makes all the difference.

See more of Chelsea’s work, chelsealewisphoto.com Bess McLaughlin Designer Life really is about the little things.

Tell us about one simple pleasure...

The little thing that makes you smile!

Monday nights I go dancing, more specifically, Contra Dancing. It's all in an effort to rekindle that feeling of thrill and fright when I was a kid and would spin quickly around in circles with a friend, toes nearly touching and arms outstretched. I twirl and twirl until I'm light-headed and I love it!

Laura Wagner UW Contributor You've Got Mail Life really is about the little things. Tell us about one simple pleasure... The little thing that makes you smile!

Oh come on, just one? The seasonal Rold Gold dark chocolate pretzel twists and drinking out of a mug that says "Something amazing is about to happen."

Mariam Williams Copy Editor Life really is about the little things. Tell us about one simple pleasure... The little thing that makes you smile!

Long, hot showers have become my new favorite thing. Considering about 15-20 minutes is long for me, they're a small, inexpensive and wonderfully relaxing luxury.

Hollydays Art & Gift Market

2012

November 29th - December 1st Mellwood Arts & Entertainment Center Thursday, November 29

Saturday, December 1

Blues, Brews, & BBQ: A Night in the Bluegrass ($15)

General Admission Shopping ($5)

5:30 pm – 8:30 pm

Preview Party with BBQ, beer, bourbon, and entertainment by Sterio Zenith.

Food & drink donated by Texas Roadhouse, Heaven Hill, and Falls City.

Friday, November 30 9 am – 5 pm

General Admission Shopping ($5) Paint Spot and Uptown Art on site!

9 am – 6 pm

Special Events Saturday: 10 am – 2 pm

Princess Tea Party ($5 with paying adult) Sponsored by Christmas at the Galt House

11 am – 2 pm

Paint Spot and Uptown Art on site!

4 pm – 5 pm

6 pm – 9:30 pm

How to make the perfect Christmas Cocktail

Ticket includes appetizers, two drink tickets, silent auction, and SWAG bags donated by Café Press!

Drinks donated by Heaven Hill and Falls City.

Purchase a Weekend Pass for just $25 and get access to all shopping & events!

Candy Canes & Cocktails, Girls Night Out ($15)

Sponsored by: www.juniorleaguelouisville.org

e°°ay by L au ra Wag n er

You've Got Mail

O

ne afternoon this fall, I sat crouched in the corner of my basement amidst a pile of papers and considered the thought that I held in my hands evidence of the end of an era. So dramatic, I know.

I was on a cleaning spree to get items together for a donation pickup, and I stopped to sit on my black foot locker for a short break. That foot locker is a time capsule of my life from age 10 to around age 30; it seems I stopped collecting artifacts when my first child came into my life and I turned more of my attention to her needs.

The cedar lined trunk holds many items, among them: my eighth grade graduation dress, stacks of journals, a Sweet Sixteen birthday candle with fossilized cake icing and photos of wedding gowns torn from the pages of my 1998 Modern Bride magazine subscription.

When I decided to do a little more digging around in the trunk that day, I excavated several stacks of rubberbanded cards and letters -- mostly letters. The first thought that crossed my mind was, why was I holding onto these yellowing pieces of paper? I know I am sentimental about keeping certain items, but these letters had been sitting bundled for 20-plus years and could never be worn like a piece of jewelry or speak to a moment in history like my copy of People magazine that memorialized Princess Diana. They were just kind of there—forgotten, maybe even forgettable— correspondence from ex-boyfriends, my best friends from college and my parents.

I could tell you that I had broken up with a long distance boyfriend sometime in the fall of 1991, but I didn't remember that we came to a poignant truce many months after that where we developed a friendship (seriously, we really proved we "could still be friends") via letters sent back and forth between our college towns. Letters that talked about Tom Petty songs, the people we lived among and what we might want to be when we grew up. (And interestingly, from what I know of him now, and of me, we both kind of landed in some places we hoped we would.)

"The first thought that crossed my mind was, why was I holding onto these yellowing pieces of paper?"

I dove into a litmus test to determine whether they would go back in the trunk or if it was time to offer them up to the recycling bin: I started reading some of them. I’m in a place in my life where I want to be more mindful and present instead of sinking into the rear view mirror of nostalgia where I see the annotated version of my life. I unfolded the pages assuming the letters would contain things I already held in my mind. I found nothing new, just tangible chronology.

I still have the letters. They are too precious for the recycling bin and too curious to immediately put back in the trunk to live alone for a few more years until I decide to take another look. The letters are also a time capsule of those last few years before people started opening AOL email accounts and speaking to one another in fragments, acronyms or 140 characters or less.

From 1989 to 1996, I traded mostly handwritten correspondence with a whole cast of people who have drifted in and out of my life, many who still remain.

Part of the work I do as a counselor is helping my clients examine the past, but really lean more into the present and future instead of the throes of what could’ve been or what once was. These letters made me rethink that a little bit.

If you asked me where I was and what my life was like in 1992, I could tell you I was living with my best friend in a tiny dorm room in Bowling Green and completing my term papers on a Brother typewriter. I have a keen sense of 8 < DECEM B ER 12 < Underwired

trivial memory, too, that fleshes out my past: watching the Anita Hill hearings and having to hold up the TV antenna a certain way to get reception, or the number for the Domino's Pizza on Center Street (781-9494). Rediscovering the letters that day filled me in on gaps in my social and emotional life that I'd long forgotten.

I could tell you that one of my best friends interned as a photojournalist at the Muskegon Chronicle in the early 90s, but I'd forgotten about the time I visited her and we went to a Meijer store at 2:00 a.m. after drinking a lot of wine and bought bags full of cosmetics for no good reason —until I ran across her reference to that night in a letter.

I could tell you that my dad drove me up and down I-65 from Louisville to Western Kentucky University tens of times, but I would have bet you $20 that a letter from him never sat in my mailbox. I would have promptly lost the bet when I pulled out three yellow legal pad pages from him where he gave me his opinion about a piece I wrote for a creative non-fiction class and what that meant to him.

Some time just after 1996, the letters went away. They went away because the world changed and we found crazy-fast ways to communicate (even with dial-up), but the lives of all of those letter writers changed, too. Mine included.

I don't think my children will know with any regularity that old-school experience of unlocking a residence hall or apartment mailbox in anticipation of pulling out an envelope addressed by the hand of someone they love or once loved. More than that, they may never pull out a trunk of letters and re-inform themselves of a little slice of how they got to be who they are when they read about the time they sat on top of a friend's Nissan Sentra at a drive-in movie while it was raining. Their lives will no doubt be documented on Facebook, YouTube and other future incarnations we can’t even dream of yet, but to me, it doesn’t feel the same as taking in your story from someone else who made the time to sit on a bed or at their desk and put pen to paper for an audience of one.

Laura Wagner is a therapist and life coach from Louisville, Kentucky. She can send an email or text message at lightning speed, but believes thoughtful, handwritten correspondence is where the heart is. You can find more about Laura and her work at www.laura-wagner.com.

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tacey Servo knows it's the little things... A bright smile- a warm handshake- that can make all the difference when feeling your way around a new city. Stacey and her husband, Amador DeLaTorre, where once newcomers themselves after relocating from Seattle. With their company, Green Horizon Management, they were helping to fulfill the need for corporate rentals and discovered that other newcomers were facing some of the same problems in connecting and navigating their new hometown. They decided to facilitate monthly socials as a way to help bring people in to all that Louisville has to offer. New2Lou meetups take place on the second Wednesday of every month and are a great resource for transplants who are looking to meet people, try new places and connect to the community. The socials have become so popular that Stacey decided to put a business model around it. A new logo and website design was launched in 2012. "Our vision for the organization is to be the first touch point for folks that move to the city. The bigger picture is to take this model to other cities."

Not just a great resource for helping people to network and expand their social base, it is also an important resource for retaining talent in the city. "We've all heard the issues with brain drain. We have to make sure that recruits find their place in the city if we want them to stay."

Outside of the monthly socials, New2Lou will be producing niche events this year- Things even locals can enjoy. "Our events give locals the opportunity to explore new places and things happening in the city, as well as meeting new faces."

Come out for some southern hospitality- New2Lou will be celebrating their third anniversary at the next social on December 9th at 21c. www.new2lou.com Photo by Chelsea Lewis

e°°ay by L ato r i al Fai s o n

All I Really Want for Christmas

A

fter passing 21 and collecting $200, life for most of us really does feel like a board game. We have either graduated from college or locked down a job or way of life. Then we roll the dice and hope to land on something big: a good husband, a nice house and some awesome kids. Thus, we have what we’ve always wanted. However, after having gone around this board of life enough to want to stop playing the game, all I really want for Christmas this year has nothing to do with men, property or even my three sons. As a woman, I have certainly gained more wisdom while growing older. Has the game really changed, or have I become a game changer?

Instead of throwing dice and letting the chips fall where they may, I have learned to live my life in a much more practical way. Many women in my age group could say that we’ve “Been there, done that, got the t-shirt” when it comes to what women used to want: to meet the guy, get a house, and have some kids. I think that some of today’s women in their mid- to late-thirties or even their fifties have changed the game. We want more out of life than men, money and homes. We want careers, to run corporations, be inventive, to organize, to make a difference, to achieve bigger dreams outside of our small towns, big cities, our families and our homes. We want to leave professional legacies in addition to personal ones. Though we seek to do big things, we must not forget the little things.

This Christmas, I find myself thinking on the little things in life that make all of the difference and teaching young women to do the same. Whether we are setting trends in education, entertainment, medicine, the legal profession, business, athletics, politics or the performing arts, we have reached beyond tradition to dream and imagine goals that many women never thought possible. We need to teach our little girls and our young women about those of us who are continuing to break down barriers and achieve and excel in outstanding and phenomenal ways even in what might be seen as a man’s world. We need to clue them in on the local educator doing research about the effects of poverty on children in rural areas.

As a military spouse, I have had the opportunity to live in various states throughout the country. Currently, I am enjoying the awesome experience of living abroad in another country for the next two years. I have marveled at what I’ve seen in just four to five weeks. There’s an old fashioned set of values at work here in South Korea. There’s an old fashioned respect for men and women as the opposite sex. There’s an old fashioned respect for education; there’s a strong work ethic taught here. As I look up and down the streets that make up Seoul, I see a busy people but a happy people. They have a pride in whatever it is that they do; this pride has dwindled in America. My grandma used to say that no matter what you do, take pride in it and do your best. If you’re a trash collector, do the job well. Every job should be done with pride.

The women in South Korea respect themselves, the opposite sex and their parents in a way that I have not witnessed in a long time in America. They dress appropriately; they dress their age. They strive to learn and to better themselves and their families.

Their thinking is not warped by the negative images that they see on television because there rarely are negative images on television or radio in their country.

If we want to get America back to what it used to be, we are going to need some strong women, some game-changing women, who are willing to stand up for what they believe in. It starts with little things.

Write a letter to your Congressman. Volunteer to work with young women in your community. Become a mentor. Donate to a cause. Adopt a young child in need by helping them with the basic necessities in life. Take a young lady to dinner or lunch at least once a month. These small things can make a difference.

"All I really want for Christmas is for women everywhere to pledge to become game changers instead of game players."

Our young women know about entertainment sensations like Rihanna, Beyoncé, Pink and Katie Perry, but what do they know about the struggles or accomplishments of people like Gloria Steinem, Oprah Winfrey, Condoleezza Rice, and Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomajor? Do they know about women who are making advances in research and medicine, women we seldom hear about who are leading awesome lives in all kinds of professions? Do they know about the University of Virginia graduate student who is spending time in Uganda to do research that would help children with special needs? Do they know about the local mother who volunteers and gives of her time, her home and her resources for the cause of women’s rights while at the same time struggles to keep a roof over her sick daughter’s head?

Have they taken the time to read about women in their local communities and states who are making differences in their lives or the lives of others around them? Have they joined an organization to volunteer and be of service to their communities?

I could speak to our youth in general, but I would much rather focus on our young women. All I really want for Christmas is for each grown woman to teach and set examples for at least one young woman. This Christmas, vow to teach one young female to value human life, to value her own life, to work hard and to change the world one person, one goal at a time. To remember the simple things in life. They mean so much. Teach a young female to value 10 < DECEM B ER 12 < Underwired

herself. Inspire her. Show her what is possible. All I really want for Christmas is for women everywhere to pledge to become game changers instead of game players. Our future is at stake. I believe that if young women could learn to be young women again, young men would learn to respect young women once again.

As we approach this holiday season and enjoy being around family or friends, think about the young people in your presence, right in your own reach, your own families. Think of how what you do today will affect how they live tomorrow. Think about how what you think and do, how your decision to quit playing the game of life and become a game changer would have such a lasting impression. Get busy creating your exit plan. Dr. Maya Angelou said it best, “When you know better, you do better.” All I want for Christmas is for women everywhere of every race and ethnic background, every socio-economic status and profession to become a game changer. Lead by example. If there’s something you don’t like about your church, your city, your town, your county, or even your country, vow to change it, one person, one goal at a time. Let’s teach our daughters to do the same. Our world can be better if we change the game, and we can do it together. Start with a little thing, and watch how you change the game.

Latorial Faison is a military spouse, mother of three sons, poet, author of five books and educator from Virginia. She has taught college English for 13 years. She enjoys writing poetry and speaking to youth and community groups about improving life and pursuing goals and dreams. She believes in education and is a staunch supporter of initiatives focused on the fair treatment of women, children and minorities.

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s executive director at the St. John Center for Homeless Men, Maria Price knows the little things can make a big impact. "One of our clients in our permanent supported housing program told us that we have the best coffee in the city, but that the coffee is only the hook. Once we get them in the door, our counselors start to work their magic."

Open seven days a week, the emergency shelter and social services center provides access to hot showers, rest room facilities, local and long distance telephone and mail services, fax machines and the above-mentioned famous coffee.

They also provide transitional housing while the men learn sober living skills, increase their education or job skills and prepare to move to permanent housing with sobriety and a steady source of income. The permanent supported housing program helps men obtain and maintain safe, decent, affordable housing by subsidizing rent and providing daily or weekly support of a social worker.

This year, 2,200 different men will have visited the center roughly 63,000 times. "What that tells us is that there is no quick fix. The men present multiple issues, and we need to be here for the long haul- to make the commitment to be here to help them take the next steps. It is often the collision of personal circumstances and systemic issues that cause the crisis of homelessness- And we can change it."

The St. John Center is always in need of the following items: disposable rain ponchos, socks, underwear, belts and toboggan. For more info on how you can help, visit www.cphost2.iglou.com.

Photo by Chelsea Lewis

Underwired > D EC EMBER 12 > 11

Photography by Abby Ott

15th Annual Luncheon Family Scholar House Dreams are the seedlings of realities.

The annual luncheon was held in honor of Family Scholar House (FSH) and the work they do toward changing lives, families and communities through education. This year's keynote speaker was Carissa Phelps, attorney, crisis counselor, mentor and advocate for runaway and homeless youth and author of Runaway Girl: Escaping Life On The Streets, One Helping Hand At A Time.

Carissa’s journey includes letting go of a history of abuse, neglect, abandonment and trauma. By sharing her own story of healing and reconciliation, she inspires others to do the same.

The luncheon was also a celebration for this year's Lucy Award winners. The individual Lucy Award was presented to Anne Malone, coordinator of Jefferson County Public Schools Homeless and Migrant Education Program. The corporate Lucy Award was presented to Marian Development Group, LLP. The FSH mission is to end the cycle of poverty by giving single-parent students the support they need to earn a four-year college degree. For information on how you can help FSH through volunteering and donations, visit www.familyscholarhouse.org.

15th Annual Luncheon Family Scholar House • Wednesday, October 24th • Galt House Hotel • www.familyscholarhouse.org

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NICU Stephanie Decker Trauma Survivor

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Joe & Stephanie Decker with their children, Dominic and Reece

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Stroke Team

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e°°ay by L au r i A r n o ld

It’s the Little Things....

I

wish I could say I didn’t value my things or I was one of those people who

overnight visit from the tooth fairy. Some of the bigger squares in the printer’s

isn’t really attached to having things. You know them. They don’t like to spend

box house miniature framed pictures of my husband and our children’s first

money on new things at all. They don’t shop for clothes, have populated

baby pictures. A tiny blue Dutch shoe with a lace sail and sweet babies tucked

bookshelves like mine or get things they love in more than one color. My

under a blanket reminds me of reading Eugene Field’s Wynken’ Blynken’ and

husband has always been one of those people. He wears an L.L. Bean watch

Nod so often to our two children I could still recite it by heart...“Wynken,

he’s had for about 15 years. He prefers paperbacks to hardbound books

Blynken and Nod one night/ Sailed off in a wooden shoe/ Sailed on a river of

because of the weight. You won’t find designer clothes in his closet. And he’d

crystal light / into a sea of dew...”

rather rent a tux than buy one. He could happily live in t-shirts and shorts and always protests he doesn’t “need” anything. I’m the one who shops for him.

There are the collections within the collection. The tiny pigs. The Wee Forest

Our son is very much like his father. His entire belongings fit inside his black

Folk collection of mice dressed in everything from tutus to raincoats or floating

Volkswagen Rabbit with his surfboard secured to the hood. Our daughter

in an inner tube—the little mouse dressed as a ghost in a sheet carrying his

falls in between. She’s learning to share her space with a new husband. She

pumpkin full of candy being my favorite. And a tiny book no bigger than a penny

loves her things, but is a minimalist by nature.

bound in Italian paper found on a trip in Italy with my husband. I was exploring the small stores in hidden alleys that held the best miniature treasures.

I was one of those little girls very attached to my dollhouse with all its tiny accessories. Couldn’t wait to have my own home to furnish with bigger versions of the little things I’d always loved. For now, the dollhouse and all its contents are carefully packed away in hopes we have a granddaughter to share it with someday. But my attachment to things didn’t end there. Unfortunately, this runs counter productive to the work I do teaching people to live with less and organize their lives. As long as they can create a convincing argument that they treasure, use and need the objects they surround themselves with, they are welcome to keep them. I will not challenge my clients when it comes to certain objects just

"It’s a lifetime displayed in small divided squares that once stored letters used to print newspapers."

too dear to part with.

But the Santas are the ones that hold the biggest place in my heart. I’ve been collecting and receiving them as gifts from people very dear to me for years. Some are even tinier than a thimble. There is the traditional one carrying a bag spilling over with tiny toys. Another resembling a magician in a tall pointed hat festively adorned with strands of gold stars. I found the Santa peering out of a tall snow-covered chimney at a store in Maine. He fits perfectly in the long vertical compartment. The tiny jack-in-the-box Santa is no bigger than an acorn. A close friend in my book group gave me the Santa who’s sitting on a wooden spool of thread reading a book. She always remembered my love of little things and

Santas. He particularly holds a special place in my heart. Because of them, our Not long after we were married, I began collecting miniatures more seriously

home is always Christmassy no matter the season.

and displaying them in printer’s boxes found in antique salvage stores on my bedroom wall. I justified my ever-expanding collection because it didn’t

It’s a lifetime displayed in small divided squares that once stored letters used

take up much room and was easily portable. There have been times I’ve

to print newspapers. I’ve been known to say on occasion, if we were robbed

second-guessed their location and felt they might be better served hanging

or our house burned down, the most important things to me would be either

somewhere my friends and guests would hopefully enjoy them and the stories

on me (my wedding rings), or with me (hopefully my husband and our dog).

behind them. Selfishly, I’d much rather house them for the joy they give me.

Our children are long gone and living on their own. The rest that would go up

They’re one of the last things I see before drifting off to sleep and one of the

in flames would be things that could surely be replaced. But given the time to

first things I see when I wake up in the morning.

grab something, I know I’d go for my printer’s boxes, a repository of so many precious memories in my life.

I confess I do have my favorites. On our very last day in an art museum in Fairbanks, Alaska, I found my red-throated loon, perched on a carved nest of ivory. Lift the loon and you’ll find two very tiny ivory eggs about as large as silver balls of mercury. Every time I see it I’m reminded of the great time we had with our close friends on our Alaskan cruise. There’s the tooth keeper with a removable angel studded lid where our children’s baby teeth awaited the

14 < DECEM B ER 12 < Underwired

Lauri Arnold lives in Louisville, KY, where she owns a home organizing business, Optimal Surroundings LLC. She looks forward to seeing what new little treasure will reveal itself in her Christmas stocking or on her next trip this year.

S

ometimes, things are small by design. By making the commitment to maintaining a small, family-like atmosphere for students, Mercy Academy provides an experience for students that helps them to grow, not only academically, but also spiritually and individually as well. The Metzger family is a great example of the Mercy Mission. Tracey Bischoff Metzger graduated from Mercy in 1982 and credits the academy with developing her into a girl ready to take on the world. "I went from being very awkward to very confident. I was more than ready to go to college." While she secretly hoped that all daughters would follow in her Mercy footsteps, she never pushed and allowed each daughter to make her own decision. After making all the high school visits, each girl agreed that Mercy was the place that felt like home. Daughters Chelsea (08) and Molli (10) are now succeeding in college and both reflect on their days at Mercy as a time when they could be themselves, learning to be comfortable in their own skin. When talking about their love for their alma mater, Chelsea and Molli both express how much they miss it. "It felt like family." sighs Molli.

They have plenty of opportunities to visit now that their younger sister Anna (13) is walking the halls. Whether cheering her on during soccer games, cross country or swim meets, Mercy still holds a special place. "Being a Mercy girl- You can't put it into words. We are family. I don't want to leave, but I know that they will always be here for me."

Where Girls with Dreams Become Women of Vision www.mercyacademy.com Photo by Jessie Kriech-Higdon (from left to right) Molli, Tracey, Chelsea and Anna Metzger

Underwired > D EC EMBER 12 > 15

Photo by Mario Testino

Diana: A Celeb>ation

The 7,500 sq. ft. exhibition, presented at the Frazier Museum by Chase and JP Morgan, explores the life and humanitarian work of one of the 20th century’s most remarkable women. Diana’s life is explored through nine galleries containing 150 objects, ranging from her royal wedding gown and 28 designer dresses to family jewels, heirlooms, personal mementoes, paintings, rare home movies and photos.

Diana: A Celebration comes to the Frazier directly from the Althorp Estate in England, the Spencer Family’s 500-year-old ancestral home, where it is on display every summer. A portion of the proceeds generated to the Althorp Estate from the exhibition, produced by Arts & Exhibitions International, benefit charitable causes including the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fund.

A series of 150 stunning objects illustrates her life and invites visitors to share the milestones of her many roles: as a youngster, schoolgirl and athlete; as the shy kindergarten teacher who captured the heart of the Prince and the public; as the young, ravishing royal bride; as the devoted mother, sister and daughter; and as the tireless charity advocate and spokeswoman. The strength of the Spencer women and their roots in the bucolic 500-year-old Althorp Estate form the backdrop for Diana’s formative years.

Also featured in the exhibition are family jewels, heirlooms, paintings, artifacts, photos and portraits of her ancestors, which provide historical context. Home movies filmed by her father and scenes from her childhood, her engagement to Prince Charles and the events leading up to the Royal Wedding are remembered and animated with video clips, personal possessions, photos, displays and letters. The glorious Royal Wedding gallery features her resplendent gown, diamond tiara, veil and 25-ft. train, as well as her shoes, parasol and bridesmaid’s dress, among other items.

The entire section of the exhibition is devoted to Diana’s energetic and multi-faceted public life and the myriad of charities and causes she supported, including her pioneering efforts that generated awareness for AIDS, land mine victims and the homeless. A three-screened video presentation highlights the hundreds of associations that continue to benefit from her patronage and dedication. The world’s grief at her untimely death is evident in a display of books of condolence and space for reflection and remembrance.

The award-winning exhibition will be on display at the Frazier History Museum until January 13th, 2013.

16 < DECEM B ER 12 < Underwired

Girls Night Out...

A Night Of Guilty Pleasures

In Honor Of Diana: A Celebration November 15th 7:00pm - 11:00pm Frazier Museum www.fraziermuseum.org

Photography by Chelsea Lewis

Underwired > D EC EMBER 12 > 17

e°°ay by Ellen Hagan

Honoring All

L

ately, I have been thinking about patience, and how to hone it, nurture

The nurse calls us back. Celi stands on the scale like a big girl and is measured

it—basically how to get more of it (or get any of it). I have been thinking, too,

for her weight and height. I stand in awe, amazed that we have made it two full

about savoring moments, and not just the beautiful, perfect, glorious ones,

years. We go into the office and I am beaming—excited for our daughter to be

but the hard, frustrating ones. I have been trying to honor both. What does

growing up, proud of myself for pushing through—I feel in control. Dr. Rio (who

that mean? Well, it means I will have to tell you the following story:

we love) comes in and asks how life is going. I can’t help it—I gush: It’s so great!

I feel like I am finally in control. I feel like things are going so well and I just feel

Last week I had an early morning appointment with our pediatrician. It was

confident and strong. I nod my head in agreement with myself, and it’s only

for our daughter’s annual visit. She just turned two. We made it for 8:45 am,

then that I realize—Um, I say, looking up at the doctor—is that dog shit on my

knowing we would be the first ones in and could get it over with quickly. So,

leg? I look down and not only is it in a huge patch on the right side of my pants,

Friday morning comes around. I wake up to rain outside our windows and

but it’s all over the left side too, and in a heap down the back of each leg—as if

immediately think I should cancel. I know I will have to take Celi alone and

I have taken the crap from the wheels of my stroller and rolled them on top of

although this isn’t a big deal if you have a car, in New York City, where you

me. Oh My God! I begin wiping my pants furiously, forgetting about my child,

have to walk everywhere, it becomes an issue. The office is about a half mile

using so much hand sanitizer my pants and hands are glowing alcohol. Dr. Rio

away, so even on a good day it’s a solid ten-minute

laughs it off and reminds me we are in a pediatrician’s

walk (if I am hustling). But my husband gives me his

office after all. I nod numbly, wiping the sweat from

pep talk and I commit. I can do this. I am a champion.

So I load up: the massive (but lightweight) stroller, diaper bag, change of clothes and snack. Although we have no raincoat, rain boots or rain covering for our stroller, I figure what the hell. I mean, who’s really gonna be all that prepared for the elements? And once I get outside, I have my answer: EVERYONE! I

"It reminded me how quickly a day can change, how soon it can go from one mood to the other."

my forehead, then panicking that there is dog feces on my hands, then my forehead, then my mouth. I hear nothing she says about Celi. I cry on the walk home.

Later that morning, my husband and mother ask me about the visit. I tell them both it was pretty much a wash once I realized I had dog shit ALL OVER MY BODY!

mean that everyone has rain gear, and yes, everyone is completely and totally prepared for nature! Damn it! But I am already a

Later that afternoon I had plans to meet friends for a poetry reading and

block in, and I decide to just go for it. I begin to speed walk and dodge the

coffee. So, when Celi went down for her nap (and I had sufficiently sterilized

eyes of the other mothers and their perfectly dry children and their cool but

myself), I went. We listened to a lecture on Lucille Clifton and her poems about

practical Hunter boots—why didn’t I order a pair—while I am sliding around

mothering and the body, and then we went to French Roast for cappuccino

in my now soggy black Saucony tennis shoes. I push on. As I am heading up

and hummus. And we laughed and told stories—I was glad to have the best/

the hill on Cabrini Boulevard, I notice the streets are full of beautiful, fallen

most horrific story of the afternoon. It reminded me how quickly a day can

leaves, and while I can appreciate the color they add to my walk, they make

change, how soon it can go from one mood to the other. That it is possible to

me nervous. My neighborhood is known for many things: Fort Tryon Park, The

be full of both dog crap and joy all in the same day. It reminded me to sit in

George Washington Bridge, the Little Red Lighthouse and its quaint charm...

both (though, I hope, not literally). Here is to honoring and celebrating both

and dog crap—lots and lots of dog crap. I don’t know why this is the case (an

the small and large moments—so that you can always have good stories to tell

unusually large population of dogs?), but I know it’s there (always), and tends

around a table of friends.

to get you when you least expect it. So, I roll my massive (but lightweight) stroller right through a gigantic pile of it. This is not the worst part.

I forge ahead up the hill and into Hudson Heights Pediatrics. I glance at the time and notice it’s 8:43—yes, see, I knew I would make it. I knew I was a champion! Obviously, I do not realize that I have crap all over the wheels of my stroller. I grab Celi, set her down in the waiting room, ask the attendant to watch her for a second and run outside to haul my massive (but lightweight) stroller into the seating area. I do the customary one hand fold, and the stroller brushes past my pants leg as I hurry inside. 8:45 on the nose. Yes! I am sure the look of satisfaction on my face is dulled only by the sick amount of sweat accumulated everywhere on my body from the speed walking workout I have just endured.

18 < D ECEM B ER 12 < Underwired

Ellen Hagan is a writer, performer and educator. Her poetry and essays have appeared in literary journals, magazines and anthologies, including her most recent publications in Spaces Between Us (Third World Press) and She Walks in Beauty (Hyperion, edited by Caroline Kennedy). Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2004 and 2008. She has received grants from The Kentucky Governor's School for the Arts, The Kentucky Foundation for Women, and held residencies at Hopscotch House and Louisiana ArtWorks.

Ellen holds a MFA in Fiction from The New School University in New York. A proud Kentucky writer, she is member of the Affrilachian Poets, Conjwomen, and co-founder of the girlstory collective. Crowned, her debut collection of poems was published by Sawyer House Press in 2010.

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Underwired > D EC EMBER 12 > 19

ele ele

The Incidentals

W

hen I was a 19-year-old student, I met a boy in a pub. He was tall and handsome, with lovely blonde locks that I soon discovered I liked to run my hands through. He liked me too, quietly. So quietly I didn’t, in my naiveté, understand the little signs he was giving me – bringing me pints of water in bed when I’d drunk too much cheap wine at the university bar, being sweet to my girlfriends, sitting through chick flicks – and I got paranoid he was going to dump me so I dumped him first.

One of the little things he’d done during our brief, confusing teen courtship was play a song for me on his guitar, at night, when the rest of his housemates had gone to bed. We’d sit smoking Marlboro Lights out of his bedroom window and kissing, and then he’d sing. It was a song by Alisha’s Attic called The Incidentals. He’d serenade me with lyrics about the simple things...

‘It’s the little sparks that fly and then land like dynamite.’

‘It’s like staying up till midnight and talking about absolutely nothing.’

‘It’s like breathing on the back of my neck and making me feel weak inside.’

We went our separate ways and a few years later I met the King of the Big Thing. He thought he was a very big deal so everything had to be impressive. I was still young – 22 years old – and still naïve so I fell for it all, hook, line and sinker. He showed off, I loved it. He regaled any given room with tales of his intellect, I applauded. He declared himself to be the second coming of Jesus (no joke) and I thought, ‘Well, he’s right about everything else, so maybe he is.’

He proposed spectacularly of course. He fancied himself as a poet, and I loved the Romantics, so he flew me to Rome (though I actually picked up the tab) and got down on one knee on the Spanish Steps at the Keats- Shelley House. He made a grand speech about his heart, his mind, his desire – and then told me he’d alerted The Times who might do a story on his epic proposal,

by Sa>ah Ivens so we needed to take good photos. I said yes, impressed that someone as marvelous as him could possibly want me, and we got married. And then, you guessed it, five years later we got divorced.

He always wanted praise, attention and a crowd of admirers.

He was good with the big stuff, but forgot to do the little things that light up a girl’s heart. He didn’t cuddle me, he didn’t ask how my day went, he hated most of my friends and family (especially the ones, I now realize, who saw through his act) and I never felt safe – financially, emotionally or physically. I knew that he was the biggest thing in his world and I couldn’t compete.

After a couple years of singledom, my teen student boyfriend found me through a mutual friend and emailed me. ‘I don’t know if you’ll remember me...’ he started, humbly. Of course I did. He was gorgeous and from the photo he’d attached to jolt my memory, he still was. That night, after not communicating for 13 years, we spoke for three hours on the phone. He remembered the names of my friends. He asked about my work. He reminisced about inconsequential nights out we’d had at The Black Griffin ale house.

Well, reader, I married him. And I married him because of the little things, the incidentals. We’ve been married for four years now it’s still those little things that make me happy. He tells me when I look nice; he pays the bills so I don’t have to deal with them; he goes out to buy me chocolate at 10:00 p.m. when I’m pre-menstrual and he fills the car with petrol so I never run out.

On our first reunion date, he handed me a gift. It was the CD single of The Incidentals. He’d remembered what song he used to play me. And when he proposed, on the sticky floor of the student bar where we’d first set eyes on each other, he didn’t recite poetry or talk about his desires for the future. He simply said, ‘It’s always been you, Sarah. It’s just always been you.’ A few little words that had a very big effect.

Sarah Ivens is the founding editor in chief of OK! magazine in the United States. Her writing has been featured in Marie Claire, Brides, GQ, Men's Health, Cosmopolitan and Glamour. She writes a baby blog for the Mail Online, the world's most popular news website. A born and bred Londoner, who now lives in Los Angeles, she is a bestselling author in her native UK.

Laura Wagner, LMFT Individual, Couple & Family Counseling Life Coaching 2200 Dundee Road, Suite D 502.855.6078 www.laura-wagner.com

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Experience the Difference | The FormalWear Experts Underwired > D EC EMBER 12 > 21

THIS I BELIEVE Pieces of Me Kimberly Trevisani

M

y friend Pam died of cancer last December. She was

How often do I get caught up in the small things in life? Packing

thirty-five, happily married with two young children. The illness

lunches, making doctor’s appointments, and folding laundry.

spread quickly, poisoning her body but never her spirit. Although

Some call them chores, but now I believe they are what make a

cancer robbed my friend of her life, it taught me to appreciate the

life. These small details used to seem endless and overwhelming,

little moments of my own.

but now it’s okay.

One fall day, Pam talked about her seven-year-old daughter, who

I want to be there to give my kids a bath after a day of playing

had just learned to ride her bicycle without training wheels. Her

outside in the mud. I want to scrub the grass stains out of their

face fell when she said, “I missed it.” The silence in the hospital

worn-out, threadbare jeans. I want to rush through the aisles

room spoke volumes. I didn’t need her to say any more. As a

of a grocery store looking for a last-minute dinner ingredient.

mother, I instantly understood the complexity of her simple,

I want to cram a haircut in between soccer games and kissing

poignant statement. What she said struck a chord within me so

a scraped knee. I want to scramble for a baby-sitter so that my

deep that it still resonates today.

husband and I can finally have a “date night.”

“I missed it because I’m in here. I can’t be a mom anymore. I won’t see my children grow. I’m going to miss so much more.”

This spring, my son rode his bike for the first time. As I watched his clumsy initial attempts transform into confidence, tears welled

Although cancer robbed my friend of her life, it taught me to appreciate the little moments of my own.

in my eyes. I stopped jogging alongside him and watched the distance between us grow. All I could think of were Pam’s words.

I tried to burn his image into my mind to make sure I wouldn’t forget what he looked like. And I cried. I cried for my friend and all that she will never witness. I cried for her daughter and son, who

I appreciate my chaos because it’s mine. These details are the

didn’t have a mom waiting at the end of the road. I cried for her

pieces of me that make up my life. My moments. I don’t want to

husband, who will experience these moments alone.

miss them.

As my son turned the corner and came back to me, a funny thing happened. I wiped my tears away and smiled. I needed to enjoy this moment because Pam was never able to. She would want me to cheer him on and wave my arms like a lunatic as he looped around the block. I needed to remember it for her, not despite her.

Kimberly Trevisani lives in Whitesboro, New York, with her husband and two sons. She has been a high school English teacher for thirteen years, and she has given her seniors the This I Believe essay assignment for the last three years.

"Pieces of Me,” Copyright ©2012 by Kimberly Trevisani. From the book This I Believe: On Motherhood, edited by Dan Gediman.

Copyright ©2012 by This I Believe, Inc. Reprinted with permission of Jossey-Bass, an imprint of John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

22 < DECEM B ER 12 < Underwired

Family Scholar House is on a mission to end the cycle of poverty by giving single-parent students the support they need to earn a four-year college degree.

As an organization, Family Scholar House recognizes the challenges that single-parent students face in trying to provide housing, childcare and basic necessities for their children without adequate income or the education necessary to obtain career-track employment. In Louisville, hundreds of single-parents are trying to survive. Since incorporating in 1995, this not-for-profit organization has helped hundreds of families in our region by providing housing and educational support.

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Send or bring contributions to: Family Scholar House 403 Reg Smith Circle Louisville, Ky 40208

Do you know who to see when that stuffy nose is making you miserable?

FSH appreciates you sharing so much of what you have with others who have so very little.

Underwired > D EC EMBER 12 > 23

evol v ◊ It’s the Small Things

by Jennifer M. Blair

W

e often hear, “It’s the little things in life that matter.” That small remembrances or thoughtful gestures are what really count and make the biggest difference in life. Yet, it is easy to get caught up in the “big stuff”... creating a successful business or trying to get that next promotion, finding the perfect partner, being the best parent, building wealth, designing the ideal home, publishing a book, perfecting the body. When attempting to achieve our dreams, the small day-to-day acts of kindness are sometimes quickly dismissed, easily forgotten or completely overlooked. In trying to achieve those soulful aspirations, the people and things we care most about often get ignored, sidelined or even dismissed.

There is nothing wrong with setting out to accomplish great things, but the journey along the way matters, and you might just get there quicker and more graciously by paying attention to the details. It’s like trying to run a marathon. If you have trained slowly and steadily over a period of time, you can achieve it more easily and with less damage to your body than if you just go out and run 26 miles the first time.

I believe in doing the small deeds consistently in order to build trust, stay on track, create sustainability and build ultimate success. It’s the accumulative effect of doing small tasks, and it can be used in most life areas, especially in creating healthy relationships with people, your work, your money, your body and your spirituality.

In intimate relationships, people want to feel heard, respected, acknowledged, cared for, appreciated and loved. My clients share with me their desire for love letters from their spouses, as opposed to a big piece of jewelry. They are dazzled by daily “I Love Yous” and other kind gestures on a consistent basis. Also, when people do what they say they are going to do and their actions meet their words, then that is what counts in the long run. All of these nurturing deposits into the emotional bank account help to build trust and safety, all based on the small acts of love and affection.

In the workplace, people want to hear about their triumphs and to be recognized in small ways, not just at their annual review. It’s the validating feedback along the way that will synergize and motivate an employee to keep showing up to give their best, not just a bonus or promotion once a year. Even the smallest recognition can change an attitude and brighten someone’s day.

In reaching for a goal such as losing weight, saving money or writing a book, the steady, consistent, purpose of an action builds momentum and eventually leads to success. Slow and steady wins the race, especially when a project is large in scope. For example, when writing a book, it takes many drafts and several hours of dedication to create the final product.

Sometimes people look for large blocks of time to get it done. In reality, the accumulation of smaller chunks of time every week allowed me to get mine done. The same principle applies to saving money. Making smaller persistent investments earlier on will build more wealth than larger deposits inconsistently. It is the regular installments, disciplined action and commitment to the goal that build up a bank account, whether it’s financial or emotional; a full reservoir happens over time.

And finally, faith is built upon a daily practice of spiritual connection and creating a relationship with your Higher Power.

By regularly meditating, praying, journaling, reading, worshiping and learning, you are investing in a relationship that will support you and keep you stronger, grounded and more peaceful during the good times and the bad times as well as transition and uncertainty.

Small Acts to Lead to Ultimate Success: All desires can be achieved by the accumulation of doing the small things.

Learn to be giving in kind ways and create your own list of good deeds. Here is a list of “small things” that can make a big difference in others’ lives: • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Share positives.

Smile.

Say please and thank you, genuinely.

Show appreciation.

Set aside 15-30 minutes each day to work on your dreams.

Practice gratitude daily.

Buy for their preferences, not yours.

Be gracious.

Listen actively without fixing.

Give without expecting recognition.

Send handwritten thank you notes.

Pay for the person’s coffee behind you in line.

Send flowers for no reason.

Give it your best.

Be generous with your time, money and energy.

Tip well.

Say you’re sorry when you need to, and make an amends.

Be of service to others first.

Do something uncomfortable or out of your comfort zone for the sake of helping another.

Not only do we achieve our dreams by consistently doing the small things, but we also become better people as well. We are the sum accumulation of all of our experiences, good and bad, big and small, pretty and ugly. Take the opportunity to grow, learn and transform... and let nothing be wasted. As Aristotle said, “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, therefore, is not an act but a habit.”

A Coaching Perspective and Exercise: The accumulative effect will make your vision doable, attainable, peaceful and enjoyable. Feeling like there is success along the way will give you the inspiration to keep going.

1. What are you investing in?

2. How are you showing generosity? Kindness? Love?

3. How does something big and juicy that you long for contribute to your definition of success? What will you get when you get there? In other words, why this goal?

4. Right-size your goal by designing the steps you will need to take in order to attain this while maintaining balance and order. What are the ways in which you are showing up for your dreams? What action steps are you taking on a consistent basis to move forward?

5. Now, break it down further to only 3 small tasks per day. With this method of 3 tasks per weekday, that is 15 items per week, 60 per month, 180 per quarter and 720 steps per year you can take to reach your goal. Imagine what 15-30 minutes per day devoted to your vision can do!

Life Coach, Inspirational Speaker and Author Jennifer Blair is founder of Excavive Coaching and Consulting, based in Louisville, KY with an additional office in Fort Worth, TX. Her work focuses on empowering people to pursue their passions, increase their self-confidence, communicate powerfully and build the kind of lives they want to live. She just published her first book, The True You, a compilation of 53 Evolve columns. Her website is excavive.com. Jennifer can be reached at jennifer@excavive.com or 502.893.9589.

24 B ER 12 < Underwired 24 << DDECEM EC E MBE R 12 < Underwired

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Underwired > D EC EMBER 12 > 25

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What do you do when you find your calling?

You give back to it.

Josh Skuller first learned about occupational therapy in high school while working as a counselor at a summer day camp. "One of the campers had cerebral palsy, and I became interested in occupational therapy after talking with the mother." It was about this same time that the OT program at Spalding University was forming, making Josh's decision to attend Spalding an easy one. "I looked at two different schools, but the visit to Spalding's campus sealed the deal. It felt warm- inviting. I also liked the proximity to home. I wasn't ready to leave Louisville."

The warmth of that first visit grew to feel like family during Josh's time at Spalding.

"Everyone knew me. I liked that my classes were taught by professors and not teaching assistants, which often happens at larger universities. The faculty members were always willing to spend time outside of class."

"My time at Spalding University was a very personal experience. I'm not sure I would have been as successful at a larger university."

Josh will celebrate a return to Spalding's campus this winter as an assistant professor in the Auerbach School of Occupational Therapy. "I want to give my students a dynamic experience. To show them the positive impact an occupational therapist can make on the quality of someone's life."

Josh Skuller Assistant Professor Auerbach School of Occupational Therapy B.S. Auerbach School of Occupational Therapy

901 South Fourth St | Louisville, KY 40203 | 502.585.7111 | www.spalding.edu

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