Quiet Strength

“Do I have time?” I asked myself. “Go in. It’s quicker than the drive through.” I walked in grateful to see only myself and one other customer. Two beautiful, petite females worked the counters. “Medium – one sugar, please,” I smiled. Out of the corner of my eye, a movement caught my attention. Turning to my right I watched in disbelief as the male customer reached across the counter and grabbed the worker’s wrist. With his left hand, he grabbed her other wrist. His right ha

We rumbled along in the coolest family car ever - yellow and brown with tailfins. My sister and I, about 9 and 10, were old enough to know mom was upset. Mom and dad often fought, and we’d learned to hide in our bedroom. Dad would go to the pub. Mom would go to work on a project. On this evening, we were delighted when she said we were going to see friends. Things were a bit unusual. It was late, dark, and minus 25. The single yard light did not reveal the raging blizzard. Th

In the spring one hundred years ago, my maternal grandparents met at a country fair. Charles was near fifty. Josephine was twenty. He was an immigrant farm laborer from neighboring New York state. She was a member of Six Nations from Brantford, Ontario. On August 30, 1910, they wed. Children soon followed. Charles Junior, Beatrice, Mary, Violet, Ivy, Albert, Jack, Irene, and Frank. Labor pains for Josephine’s tenth baby (in sixteen years) started weeks earlier than expected

“Where are we!” I shouted from the ditch. “Number 6! We’r ‘n 6!” he bellowed back. I told 911. “Let me confirm. You are south of Regina,” dispatch mechanically droned. “No! No-no-no! We’re on #6!” I shouted across the highway again. “ Where are we!!”“Halfway – HALFWAY! … between Milestone and Wilcox!” he bellowed, shivering in his jean jacket, feet glued to the ice-caked pavement. I punched out details to the impassionate dispatch voice. The voice confirmed location then unl

In 2000, unbelievably, I was terminated from a highly unionized workplace. When the final axe fell, the Union completely washed its hands of me. Thankfully, their abandonment released me from all union obligations, and I was free to seek my own legal counsel. I searched for a lawyer who would represent me on a contingency basis. “Yes, I can represent you,” the senior partner warmly agreed. As months passed, I was bumped over to his junior and later, to a new third partner. Du

He threw his books down a third time. The six-foot male bolted upright in his chair. His eyes rolled inside their sockets. Everyone else leaned away from him and hurried out of the room, obviously glad the day was over - for them. “You’ve got to leave. Ditch your stuff.” my guts shouted. He had verbally assaulted me all day and I’d used every trick in the book to satisfy a difficult customer. “Get out - now!” my intuition screamed and finally overrode my errant belief that I

Science knows practicing gratitude changes neuropathways that govern my emotions and memory. But I do not seek approval from academia or applause from the masses. I practice gratitude to reciprocate to pay it forward for those times I stood tall, suffered consequences and others stepped in to help. My thoughts, words, actions may help someone, as others once helped me. Sometimes I forget to practice, especially during tough times. It had been a difficult six months. Yesterd

Pitching bales, playing fastball with the boys and guzzling beer were rites of passage in my farm girl youth. I excelled at all of them. From it I learned unsophisticated confidence based on the belief that facing fears, working hard, and innovative thinking could solve everything. While valued in rural life, these super traits landed like underbaked cookies on the gleaming power suits of corporate urbanites and credentialed males. They were as baffled by my drive to calmly q