Amy M. Schaefer
  • Amy M. Schaefer, Writer
  • Blog: From the Front Porch
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From the Front Porch

I am an "accidental blogger". When I launched my writing career in March of 2014, one of the things that I decided to include was my journaling, which I have always found to be a comforting and therapeutic endeavor.  It was a big risk to open myself up in such a public forum, but it has taught me that, for the most part, we share far more experiences than we think. It's comforting to know I'm not alone!  (*the "Button Text" is the link to my first novel)
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Living is in the Little Things

8/26/2016

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Image from fluther.com
I fall asleep at the end of the day to the click, clicking in my brain...of lists that are incomplete, and tasks that have been accomplished, things that still need to follow-up, or breaks I fully intend to take just as soon as I can make the time. I promise myself that for at least a little while each day, I will devote time to just enjoying moments, but there are days when I break that promise, too tired to even do something mindlessly fun. I'm going to have to get better at keeping my word, otherwise I will bury myself under a mountain of "have to's" and totally miss the point of living!

It is that concept of living that's on my mind this evening, as the work week comes to an exhausting close (I had forgotten just how crazy the madness is during the first week that teachers come back from summer break...sheesh!). The ol' mountain man has been spending his days finding meaning, sometimes in the smallest of tasks...but hey, often those are be most cherished moments of our lives. I check on him daily, happy to hear the pep in his voice. I know I've been hovering over him like a mama bear, but in some ways I think that's been good for both of us. I remind him to take care of himself and enjoy life, and he reminds me that no matter how many years we have, our time, ultimately, is fleeting. This brings me right back to being too busy with the "details" to savor the bigger things (...which more times than not are found in little things) going on all around me...like quiet support I feel every day coming at me from my Tribe, snuggle time in the evenings on the sofa while watching mindless TV, or a good story shared with students who will soon be starting this new school year.

Wherever this finds you, may it find you happy and filled with moments of pure joy.
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Throwing Out the Blueberries

8/23/2016

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We gathered at the Coliseum, teachers from all over the county, most of whom were restless and ready to be in their classroom preparing for students (which in and of itself is QUITE a job)! Many grumbled about things like the traffic, the late start, and the long list of things they'd rather be doing instead of occupying a hard bench seat and listening to yet another "speaker". The guy giving us our back-to-school pep talk, however, was no ordinary blah, blah, blah educator...he is a successful business man turned staunch education advocate, and man can he deliver a fabulous message!

At the beginning of his talk, he eluded to the fact that he knew we'd have preferred to be doing the "business" of school preparations. He talked about his background, how he'd built a little Midwest ice cream company that made stellar ice cream...and then it skyrocketed into the stratosphere of fame. He told us of his once very narrow-minded view of education, in general, and educators specifically. And then he dropped the blueberry bomb! I'm sharing a clip of that portion of his presentation below. It is a story I will never forget! And for me, it begins a more focused "conversation starter" for this career path I am on and love so much.

I could say to you, "Children are our future," but that's a cliche' that you already know. The truth is, however that statement is tossed around, particularly during an election year, it really is on point. We, as a people, across the globe, cannot afford to NOT properly educate our youth. It is the most important job we will ever do and it is not an easy task. I was staggered by Mr. Vollmer's (our key note speaker) claim that over 70% of people who make decisions for education in the United States don't even have children in public schools. I was panicked when he talked about how in communities outside of the "education world", many point fingers at "us" (i.e. the teachers), saying we are a big part of the problems in the world today. But mostly, I was inspired by a man who completed changed his ideas and perceptions after walking a "block" in our shoes.

I hope you'll take time to watch the entire segment of "An Evening with Jamie Vollmer: Schools Cannot Do It Alone", which can be found on YouTube and is worth the time. At the very least, however, I hope you will be aware of and a part of a conversation about how we can all do our part in creating a better world, starting with the enrichment and education of our youth.
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Salty Dogs, Mountains, & Mermaids

8/15/2016

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The ol' Mountain Man at Kitty Hawk Beach, OBX
I look to the horizon that stretches out in either direction as far as I can see. The sun is sinking on the Soundside behind me, while the waves crash on the sandy shore ahead. Dad and I have arrived without incident to a place we both love...the Outer Banks. Blissfully, I have no memory of being here that causes me pain, and in fact, it is one of those rare places on Earth that seeps Peace and Hope deep down into my bones. During the nearly six hour drive to get here, I sang to my father, danced in the car, and dragged him out of his shell a bit more with each mile. By the time we got here, the smile on his face was genuine, and there was just a glimmer of light in those green eyes. As I watched the water grow dark, I remembered how many people told me to "have fun" on our big "trip", but how does one have fun with the gravity of such an intense situation at hand? I think of the dangerous things that lurk beneath the mesmerizing surface of a sea that will give you joy or kill you depending on the circumstances, and the connections between that and what is happening are not lost on me.

I am determined not to cry for the entirety of the trip and dampen the mood of this trip even the slightest bit, but the second day I break that secret vow, smashing it all to hell. I cannot "unknow" just how possible it is these sights and sounds are some he will never experience again...but maybe he will. I want to have Hope, stay positive and as one day slips into the next, he fishes, and laughs, walks and eats, slowly, vibrantly coming alive again. There is that old man I know, whom I haven't seen in a very long time...he's full of joy and I want to weep and sing and hold tight to the moment forever. I want to bottle up whatever it is that's making him happy, stuff it in my pocket and carry it with me everywhere we go for a time when he might need that salty sea mojo again. By Thursday night, he confesses, "I don't want to go back." "I know," I say. "If I could think of a way to leave you here, I would." He is quiet for so long, I think he's done speaking and then he almost whispers, "Well, at least we have tomorrow." I don't remember the last time I heard him look on the bright side of anything, and I want to fill the ocean with tears, wondering if mermaids know how to sort the happy ones from those filled with sorrow.

Have you ever seen a mountain move? For the first time in my life I know precisely what that would look like. Somewhere in the surf, the salt, among the crabs, stingrays and fishes...that ol' mountain man found his "happy". And now, I pray as hard as I can pray that he'll remember where it is the next time the road he's on becomes rocky or seems insurmountable. Perhaps those mermaids will whisper the secret of it to him in dreams when he needs it.
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Never Forget, You Can Do HaRD Things

8/9/2016

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It's funny how there have been times, of late, where I really do feel like one of those made-up characters come to life from a book. Abby Regatti and her pink combat boots come to mind as the wake of Monday, which came and went in a blur, drifts choppily by. Doctors discussed ways in which to buy more time, while they impressed the gravity of PSA levels that are now ell over a thousand, translation...the cancer is growing faster.  The ol' mountain man sat, stoically taking it all in. He seems so much older than his actual years, frail in the wheelchair that practically swallows up his now overly thin body and I struggle from my watchful position in the waiting room chair, trying to remember a time when he was young, vibrant, full of life.  Those images, however, remain aloof, like something I'm not sure if I dreamed long ago or a memory that is real, yet grown yellowed and cloudy with age. Fear is a palpable thing, hanging heavy over everything and I just don't know if I'm equipped to provide the comfort he seeks. How does one squeeze every precious drop out of life, while simultaneously making preparations for the end?

In the car on the drive home, we talk of the things he wishes he had done and I prompt him to tell me what it is he wants most. He is doggedly determined to see the ocean one final time. I remind him that there's no way he can make that drive, threaten to take every one of his vehicle keys if I even think he's going to try, when he quietly asks, "Come with me, then? You drive." A dozen protests pop into my mind, but one look at his vulnerable, pleading face and I bite every one of them back. "Okay," I agree. I have never been on a vacation alone with this man even once my entire life. It has taken him forty-seven years to even ask me, a sad fact not lost on me now, when the invitation comes during the final phase of the end of his life. This is what it takes for him to want my company? My heart lurches as the pain of that hard slap of reality stings through a timeline string to a little girl's ache to be wanted, loved.

If I am to get through this, and I AM going to get through it, I have to put an ice pack on that little girl's pain and keep moving forward. Nothing can be done about what was lost or what will never be...and none of this is about me anyway. That little girl grew up, made a good life for herself, and used those nightmare creatures from her childhood to forge her adult self in fire and steel. It is the woman of fire and steel he needs now, and that's who he's going to get. I stand for you, ya stubborn, onery, ol' mountain man, even when you couldn't be bothered to stand for me. I stand for you because I love you, even when it hurts like hell. I stand for you because, for the most part, I have become the person I needed when I was young. And on the day you slip from this world to the next, I'll be right there beside you, watching over you until you no longer need it. I stand for you until it's your time to fly. I could really use those pink combat boots about now!
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The Day After

8/5/2016

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image from www.etsy.com
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Matthew 17:20...image from Pinterest.com
The persistent ringing woke me early. I'd already blown off the unknown number on my cell phone, but not ten minutes later the landline was going at it. Resigned, I got out of bed and grabbed it off the desk. "Mrs. Schaefer?" the woman inquired. "Yes, this is she," I said. "You recently had a mammogram and the doctor doesn't like the looks on one of the images. I'm going to need to schedule you for additional testing," she informed me. Wait. What???? My brain was not sure my ears had heard her correctly. As she rattled off some days and times for potential appointments, my mind was screaming a thousand things at once...I don't have time for this...Surely there's some kind of mistake....it's probably nothing...but logic kicks in and whispers, "They don't call you back for nothing." I scribbled this new pending date on a post-it and tried to pay attention to her words. All I caught was, "Don't worry. These things happen all the time and usually it's nothing." Don't worry? Are you serious?????

Honestly, I had no intention of coming here to my laptop keyboard and writing down any of this. Once I write it, it's even more real than just the seemingly innocuous series of events that have led up to this tap, tap, tapping of my keys. But if I don't write it, the gravity of it all will rattle around in my head and my imagination will run wild. Not all of that will be a doom and gloom scenario, but more than is good for my peace of mind. I have to purge it, share it, and hope that there will be more than one of you out there who can completely identify with how whack-a-doo my head and emotions are feeling right now.

I have gotten a regular mammogram every year since I turned 35 as a precaution due to my family history. I missed last years because there was so much turmoil going on, I pushed this particular healthcare item to the back burner. I was distracted and it really just didn't seem all that urgent or even important. Now I'm kicking myself for NOT doing something I know I should always do...take care of myself! The irony of that is the memory of a recent text from a friend I've been close to for a very long time, who said to me, "I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, but don't forget to take care of yourself, too." He knew I'd been frantically shadowing my father, as he's battling his own grave health issues and he was worried I'd just forget about myself while entrenched in that endeavor. He wasn't wrong. Fortunately, I have people equally close to me who do things that see to my care when I'm on auto-pilot, focused on someone or something else. I can't even tell you how grateful I am for these members of my Tribe. Without them, I have no idea where I'd be.

I don't know what's coming, or how this will turn out and I've lost count of how many times I bring home the point that none of us has a crystal ball. So, I'm in the same boat as everyone else on this planet. How many times have I said the only time we really have is now? I am afraid of what's coming. There is no way on Earth I can follow the person who phoned me this morning and just not worry about it, even though I know it won't do a lick of good, nor change the outcome. I look down and see the reminder I had put on my arm just yesterday and OH how it makes me cry. Faith...small as a mustard seed. That's all you need to move mountains. Hopefully, the issue with my health won't be as big as a mountain, but if it is...well, I have the seed, don't I?!
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The Day That Came

8/4/2016

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My mama, Leslie Jean
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C'est moi.
I stare at my face in the mirror as I get ready for my day, surprised to see it there, alive, animated and full of colour. Honestly, I didn't think I would make it to forty-seven, probably because that face looking back at me is SO much like my mothers and she died two months prior to her forty-seventh birthday. It's probably irrational that somewhere in my mind, I have attached my own fate to hers, especially considering our lives could not have turned out more different, but the mind is not always rational, nor are the fears and worries it conjures.

The last couple of weeks have been tumultuous and reflective, as one day slipped into the next with the ol' mountain man's life hanging in the balance. One of life's universal promises is that sooner or later, it always comes to an end (...although depending on what you believe, that ending is merely a beginning to something else MUCH better). Sometimes it's difficult for me not to obsess about this eventuality, the knowledge that things can change, and end, in the blink of an eye. Mostly, that premise is  not an "if", rather it's  a "when", and if I'm not careful, I will unpack and live there ever waiting on the brink.

I have lots of little tricks to refocus myself when I get too wrapped up there on that precarious edge. I go out and immerse myself in Mother Nature's majesty, spend time with children reading or playing or just listening to their thoughts and dreams and remember that whatever comes, I must make the most of my RIGHT NOW. I must live my life, dive into my relationships full-throttle. Time is too precious to waste even a moment holding back. And here I am, after worrying and wondering if I'd make it to the birthday my mother missed...the day stretched out ahead of me...the day that came! Hello there forty-seven year old girl! What shall we do today to make it count?!
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    About The Author

    I grew up in rural North Carolina. When I was only nineteen, I moved away and became a military wife. My only aspiration at that tender time in my life was to create an adult life that "fixed" all of the "injustices" of my childhood. Secretly, however, I wanted to reach for the sky! I wanted to be a writer and find ways to "save the world" (my mother used to say, "You have Save the World Syndrome".). Mostly, I wanted to matter.

    Since then, I have learned to reach well beyond what I ever dared to think was possible. I've learned not to allow fear to stop me from whatever future I want to create!

    What keeps me grounded? My Tribe! What provides the wind beneath my wings? A well of reserves filled with unstoppable passion!

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  • Amy M. Schaefer, Writer
  • Blog: From the Front Porch
  • Novels
  • Short Stories
    • Children's Books
  • About the Author
  • Contact
  • Photo & Art Gallery