• Things I Should Warn You About

shenrydafrankmann

~ Hopeful honesty from simple sentences

shenrydafrankmann

Monthly Archives: August 2018

Any tips?

28 Tuesday Aug 2018

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 9 Comments

Mom died yesterday afternoon.  We expected it to happen, the doctors told us during our meeting last Saturday that they didn’t expect her to live through the weekend.

I gathered my father and brothers together for prayer.  I prayed.  We wept.  We waited.  We went to dinner together, enjoyed the fellowship.  Our waitress looked like princess Fiona from Shrek, something I reminded my youngest brother of.  He hates it when I make him laugh at embarrassing things!

I watched her breath her last breath Sunday afternoon as dad entertained well wishing visitors.  We held her hands together as the nursing staff removed her breathing mask and checked her vitals, confirmed death.  It’s not easy, but it easier when you know that your mother is definitely in paradise.

Today, Dad asked me to give the eulogy at the memorial service.  I am the oldest, the outspoken one, the one who Mom wanted to speak at her memorial.

It will be tough.  I will focus on her music, her kindness, her love, the way she cultivated relationships.  I will share stories.  I will talk about her faith.  I will talk about her three sons and her loving husband.  It will be tough.  It won’t be easy,  but it will be easy.

Revelation 21:4 – He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’[b] or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away

Too soon

25 Saturday Aug 2018

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

I have chronicled enough struggles here in the past few years that I don’t want to say too much.  Perhaps I will say more later.  Anyone who knows what it is like when a parent’s health is failing knows a little what it is like for me right now.  Really, the difficult part is what my father is experiencing (and has been experiencing all year) while my mother’s health has gone from painful to critical very quickly.  For me, I am just doing what the eldest child is expected to do.  Dad needs me and has shown that to me, has thanked me for the support I have given.  My brothers have looked to me to take the lead and I have.  It feels strange.  My two brothers are intelligent, very successful men yet they are looking at me for guidance.

Dad rushed Mom to the ER early the morning of August 6 as she howled in extreme pain.  Nausea has been a constant companion for her for quite some time.  It turns out that infection from diverticulitis had caused her colon to rupture, a very dangerous condition.  Doctors performed emergency surgery to remove a small portion of her colon and to remove the waste that had leaked into her abdomen.  Since then, my mother has spent most of her days in ICU.  Doctors say she will not recover, will never leave the hospital.

That has caused us to try to make some very tough decisions regarding her care.  I won’t say anything else.  I and my brothers are going back to the hospital in Springfield tomorrow to talk to the doctor and make more decisions regarding hospice care.  Yes.  Hospice.

I want to say more, but need to get some rest.  It is going to be a long weekend.

Water Torture

13 Monday Aug 2018

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

life, neighbors

I am a bad, bad, bad man.  So bad.  Oh yes, I’m bad, I know it.

I am a dripper.  It’s not a personal problem, even if it sounds like it, although it is the current personal problem of choice for she-who-is-not-to-be-named.  Ah, heck, I will say the name, even if I do not have a lightning bolt on my forehead.

TERESE.  TERRIBLE T.

When Terese complains, it means she is home and awake.  Water seems to be her greatest enemy.  I would like to tell her that she need not worry, the Wizard of Oz is only fictional.  She will not melt when water comes in contact with her skin.

Maybe I should try tossing a bucket of water on her.

Maybe THAT is why she has a plastic tarp mounted underneath the floor of my balcony.  She is afraid of melting!

A flying monkey landed on my balcony rail last night.  I swear I am not making that up.  It was either a flying monkey or a large dragon fly.

Terese decided to occupy her condo unit either Thursday or Friday.  I can tell when she is about to be home.  Her husband’s gray truck shows up in the guest parking area.  Usually, he comes home a day ahead of time, likely to get her cauldron ready for when she returns.  She has been gone for a few weeks.  How do I know that?  It has been a few weeks since she last complained and whined.  Her complaint of choice right now is water that drips from my balcony to her plastic tarp.  We are not talking about something constant, we are talking about a few drops twice this summer.  I had to leave town early Friday morning and didn’t get back until yesterday, was only home a little bit yesterday.  I heard her cackling out on her patio before I left Friday morning.

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This morning, I watered my flowers before I left for work.  It’s part of my daily routine.  There are trays and rubber mats underneath each flower box, trays underneath each pot.  That is required per condo rules.  It makes sense and is a polite thing to do.  Nasty as my downstairs neighbor is, I am not going to pour water on her patio.  When I water my flowers, I have a large watering can that I use.  If I am in a rush, I might slop some water that could drip a few drops through the cracks between the decking.  That happened this morning.  I slopped and seconds later I heard the drip drip drip of water hitting her plastic tarp.  Three drips.

You might think that I had just dumped several buckets of turds over the side of my balcony.  Terese shouted several words and phrases in a loud shriek and in what I assume was Polish, followed by several choruses of SON OF BEETCH.  She has sung that chorus to me several times over the course of the last year.  Undaunted, I finished watering, went back inside to refill the watering can.  I said nothing, did nothing.  Oh, I MIGHT have held the watering can over the railing and let it rain on the grass below, but I MOSTLY did nothing.

When I got a chance to catch my breath at work, I let property management know that my neighbor would likely be filing another formal complaint.  I let them know my email was only for the record, told them I was following condo guidelines for drip trays on balconies, sent the pictures used in this blog.  They did respond, thanked me for providing the pictures so they had ammunition (yes, they used that word) that proves I am following the rules.  The woman who responded also complimented me about my flowers.  🙂

Geez, it is going to be hard to resist buying a super soaker…..

And Then There Was One

09 Thursday Aug 2018

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

lessons learned, life, personal

Darks clouds hung low, not ominous at all, no thunderheads but threatening nonetheless.  I ducked my head slightly on the way from my office to my car in an attempt to shield my glasses from the light rain.  Despite the clouds, I felt buoyed, an odd feeling considering the reason I was in my car — I was on my way to pick up my daughter and take her to the airport for her trip to Amsterdam, then after a two day layover on to Istanbul and finally Ankara.  She was about to embark on a journey that has been a dream of hers since she was a girl, a new life teaching overseas.  It’s a bold and exciting adventure, something that makes me very proud of her, any thoughts of missing her overshadowed by the joy of anticipation.  The big day was here!

The drive from my office to pick up Alyssa at her mother’s apartment slowed as the light rain turned heavy.  An overly cautious motorist delayed my arrival by at least five minutes as she poked along at a speed 15 mph under the limit, on a section of road that curved in a way that made it impossible to pass.  I wasn’t too worried.  The flight out of O’Hare was scheduled for 6 PM.  We had allowed three hours.  There was plenty of time.

We loaded her five suitcases into my car in the midst of a downpour, all her bags wedged into the small “trunk” area and back seat of my VW Tiguan.  Alyssa had carefully packed three large suitcases and a big wheeled duffle bag to the maximum weight limit, her life’s belongings relegated to those four bags.  Another small suitcase was also stuffed, yet small enough to qualify as a carry on according to the airline guidelines.  I watched as Alyssa embraced her sobbing mother in a long hug, then jumped into the passenger seat next to me, tears welling in her eyes as we drove away.

The tollway moved slowly, bumper to bumper traffic inhibited by torrential rain, visibility a challenge, especially as the outside temperature dropped and windshields began to fog.  We didn’t worry, the car filled with excited chatter as we talked about her trip, her plans, all the networking she was already doing.  Alyssa already has friends in other countries, people she can contact when she wants to travel to other parts of the world.

Along the way, our cell phones sent us flash flood warnings, conditions that were already obvious.  Many lanes along the tollway were already obscured by rising water.  When we turned into the lane to go to the international terminal, the underpass to the terminal was dangerously flooded.  I stopped the car, then gunned the engine with a little prayer that we would make it to the other side.  The car actually floated a little bit!  We pulled through the parking lot gate, took the parking ticket, then joined the crowd looking for parking spaces.  Fortunately, someone pulled out of a space close to the terminal and I grabbed the space.  Alyssa took responsibility for her new suitcases, a set with four wheels on the bottom that roll easily.  I took the large two wheeled duffle and two wheeled suitcase.  We negotiated the crowded covered walk way into the international terminal.

Where was the United check in?  I slapped my forehead for not checking the terminal number with Alyssa before getting to the airport.  O’Hare is a hub for United, so even the flight to Amsterdam would fly out of terminal 1 — on the domestic side of the airport.  Undaunted, we took the elevator down to the train that would take us from international terminal 5 to domestic terminal 1, only to find out the the shuttle trains were shut down.  We had to descend to ground level, get in line for a shuttle bus that would take us to the correct terminal.  The wait was short, our time to check bags and get Alyssa through security to her flight gate getting more critical, but the three hours we had budgeted was still on our side.

The shuttle bus dropped us right in front of the United terminal 1 check in.  We dragged her luggage to the check in kiosk, retrieved the bag tags and ticket, then checked four of her bags at the bag drop.  Her other bag was small enough to be a carry on, something Alyssa had checked carefully as she packed.  After transferring her four bags to the bag drop agent, we embraced for our goodbye before she made the trek through security.  I didn’t want to fight the tears, so I didn’t, my arms around my little girl for the last time this year.  I didn’t want to let go, held her perhaps more tightly than ever before.  I let her go, said a short prayer with her before she headed off towards the TSA line.

As I watched her go, the women at the bag drop counter asked me about my tears.  Through those tears, I told them this was the last time I would see my daughter until next year.  They were clearly touched, both expressing little “Awwwwwww, that’s sweet!” as I walked away.

Before leaving the terminal, I visited the restroom.  I would be stuck in Chicago rush hour traffic in the middle of a rain storm, both not conducive to people with tiny bladders!

Something told me not to leave, to head back towards security.  It was a good thing.  When I started back to the TSA entrance, my redheaded daughter was stomping towards me with that determined look she gets on her face when she is upset and trying not to cry.  When she saw me, she did cry.  I hugged her, asked her what was wrong.  TSA security had checked the size of her carry on, told her it was too large, that it would be a $200 charge to check it.  She would have to go back to United customer service, pay the $200 and check the bag.

I don’t have $200 to spare, she sobbed, and my flight is about to board!

We rushed to the United kiosk, only to find out that it was less than 60 minutes to departure.  Bags could not be checked electronically, they had to be manually checked by a customer service agent and paid for.  The check in line was long, not moving, and boarding for her flight had started.  Time was now at critical mass!  I stopped the customer service agent who was walking the line, asked him what could be done to expedite my daughter through the line, told him why.  The jerk just shrugged his shoulders, pointed at the line, and moved on!  I hadn’t been rude, was very calm, and was determined to stay that way.  I hugged my daughter.  She was in tears and asking me what to do.

You will make it, I assured her even as a bit of panic was threatening to creep in.

We left the line, went outside to the curb side bag check.  The agent was apologetic, sincere in telling us that he could not check bags for international flights.  I steered Alyssa back inside the terminal, directed her to get back in line while I approached another bag drop counter, asked the agent for assistance.

You will need to see a customer service agent, she told me.

I already have.  He doesn’t see the urgency nor does he seem interested in helping at all, I told her.

The agent at the bag drop flagged down another agent, who listened to my story, then looked up Alyssa’s ticket and told me that he could help if his terminal would allow.  It did.  I paid him, he printed the ticket as I motioned Alyssa to come join us.  He took her bag to the gate as I hugged her good bye, this time for the last time (for this trip).

She texted me a few minutes later.  When she arrived at the gate, it was only a few minutes before the flight was to depart.  They had already taken her bags off of the plane.  Apologizing, they loaded her bags again, let her on the plane.

The next morning, she messaged me, told me that she and her bags had arrived safely in Amsterdam.  She had a window seat and a whole row to herself on the plane — so her fortunes changed drastically once the drama was over.

I am praying tomorrow’s flight to Istanbul goes well.  I am sure it will.  She says there are no bag restrictions for that flight.

One left the nest, one remains.

 

 

My Little Bird Takes Flight

06 Monday Aug 2018

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

family, life

Star Wars

Emperor Palpatine wasn’t quite sure he was ready for the selfie, but the redhead was strong with the force.

My little girl is about to embark on a bold new life’s adventure, a step that I have watched her approach with impressive courage as well as a faith that this father sees as the key to whatever success she has had and will have from this day forward.  I am a bit jealous.  Alyssa is stepping into the void, with a calculated trust but trust nonetheless.  When her flight leaves for Amsterdam tomorrow evening, then for Istanbul on Friday, she will be on her own.  Friends, family, all that is familiar to her will be left here.  The place she was born to and has lived in for 22 years will be far, far away.  It’s likely I won’t see her again until next summer.

She writes about her new adventure in her blog — There and Back Again.  The thoughts she shares are wonderful to read.  She writes —

God wants all of me. Am I willing to give it to Him? My plans for my future? My relationships? My security? My comfort?

Jesus goes on to say, “Everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life.” (Matthew 19:29)

So. Am I willing to give up the illusion of control? Am I willing to trust that He will take care of me as I step out into the unknown to follow Him?

As I pack my seemingly shrinking suitcases, preparing to leave so many things behind, I am working to loosen my grip, open my hands, and just let go.

She is going to a strange place, hoping that God can use her there in a unique way, willing to take a job that pays less than she could get from teaching in the States but an opportunity for her that she can not pass up.  Could she do the same if she stayed in a part of the world where she is comfortable?  Without a doubt, she could and would.  This is something she feels called to do.  Everything that I have witnessed from her so far tells me that is true.

Her mother is a missionary’s daughter who traveled to and lived in several different countries before she settled in the USA.  That part of her is in her daughter’s blood, an example Alyssa saw in her mother’s family.  They have encouraged her along the way, many supporting this new adventure financially and with valuable advice.. and prayer.  A good part of the dream that brought my daughter to this point in her life, has been inspired through the experiences of her cousins and other family members.

I remember what it was like for my when my own post college adventure began.  I went from college to a place that was different to me, on my own but only hundreds of miles away from my family home, with people strange to me but a culture like my own.  There were plenty of things for me to learn, especially since I was a young minister at a church with it’s own challenges.  I relished those challenges, dove in with gusto into the new adventure.  I smile as I see my daughter diving in with the same determination.  I smile even more as I realize she is far more ready for the adventure than I was.  She has chosen a much larger challenge than I did, the potential for reward equal to the size of the challenge.

Alyssa came over to my place last Friday, purged much of what she has stored out in my garage, asked me to keep some of the more fragile items in the closet in my spare room.  We shared a pizza at her favorite pizza restaurant, talked about many things during the course of our meal together.  She is nervous, like she should be.  She is prepared, as is her way.  I went to church with her yesterday morning, her exhaustion obvious in her demeanor.  I told her that she looks and sounds tired, something she admitted to while also telling me that she hasn’t slept well the past few days.  It’s natural with all that is in front of her, I told her.

Her trip this week has a tie to my blogging.  In Amsterdam, she is being hosted by the friend of one of my dearest blog friends, who I have known for many years through blogging.  How cool is that?

I am happy for my daughter, a tiny bit nervous but confident, hugely proud of my little girl.  I called her my little girl yesterday, something that offended her slightly, but I reminded her that she will always be my little girl.  Tomorrow, I will drive her to the airport, help her with her suitcases, hug her, then watch her until she disappears into the terminal.. away to new people, a new culture, a new and exciting place, a new life.

 

 

A Simple Headlight Bulb…..

01 Wednesday Aug 2018

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

car repairs, manly stuff

Q:  How many manly men does it take to change a light bulb?

A:  If “manly men” really means “gullible doofus”, the answer is ONE.

She texted me last night while I was peacefully eating my dinner out on my peaceful deck, enjoying the peaceful peace of nature as it peacefully basked in front of me.  Dinner was reheated homemade dumplings from my freezer, a choice that my internal organs are submitting loud complaints about this morning.

D:  I have to leave work early tomorrow to get my headlight replaced at the car dealer tomorrow.  They said that it will take an hour and a half because the bumper needs to be removed.  My mechanic wouldn’t do it for me, said his wife has a headache (my edit… she actually said he used his wife as an excuse to not replace the headlight bulb).

Manly Steve:  Ooooooo… that can be expensive.  Did they say how much it will cost?

D:  No.  They just said that it will take some time.

This was an opportunity for a real manly man to prove his worth to the helpless woman and rescue her from the rat fink dealer service center.  I pounded my chest, coughed up a dumpling, grabbed my laptop and looked up a video on how to replace the headlamp bulb on the make and model of her car.  Anything can be screwed up repaired courtesy of the internet these days.  It looked like a simple job.

Manly Steve:  (I swear I grew 10 new chest hairs as I typed) This looks pretty easy.  I can do it for you tonight if you want, save you a few bucks.  2012 Impala, correct?

D:  (her response might be a tad bit embellished)  Oooooooo, take me now you stud.  You really will do this for me?  No, 2012 Malibu.

Feverishly, partially due to the horked dumpling, I did an online search for the Malibu.  Uh oh.  The video was 15 minutes long — for a simple headlight bulb replacement.  The dealer was correct.  In order to get to the headlight bulb, the bumper cover had to be completely or partially removed, as well as part of the front of the car.  Tools were not really an issue, as all that is really required is a 10mm socket, flat head screw driver, and needle nosed pliers.  Taking it apart would be tedious, putting it back together a chore.

I scratched my chest as the newly grown chest hairs began to recede.  Undaunted and determined to prove my worth, I continued on.

Manly Steve:  It looks like the dealer is correct, it will take some time to do the job.  They would charge you too much.  I will do it for you tonight.  Give me a few minutes and I will be over.

Note to self — next time I volunteer to fix something for her, take her up on her offer to leave me to myself while I work.  She supervised the more than two hour task.  I passed the supervision test, although I am not sure that I am ready to hang wallpaper with her.

I arrived at her place right before dark, so most of the repair was performed via my shop light and a camp lantern.  A rainstorm spit at me the entire two hours.  This manly man kept to task, accepted the praise of lovely D, had fun performing a challenging task that really wasn’t all that challenging.

The headlights work.

Grunt grunt grunt

2008-2012-Chevy-Malibu-Headlight-Bulbs-Replacement-Guide-034

Yes, I really do say these things

  • My Father is Yacky
  • Image Bearer
  • Evening Ramble
  • Exposure of the Indecent Kind
  • Just Say Gnome

Yes, I really did

  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • March 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • May 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012

Categories

My brain hurts with you

  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • March 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • May 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012

Blogs I Follow (and maybe even read)

  • glennkaiser.com
  • There and Bach Again
  • Dean
  • Southern Georgia Bunny
  • The Rambling Biker
  • Storyshucker
  • Ah dad...
  • Squeeze the Space Man's Taco
  • I didn't have my glasses on....
  • kidscrumbsandcrackers
  • longawkwardpause.wordpress.com/
  • Cycling Dutch Girl
  • The Shameful Sheep
  • Blog Woman!!! - Life Uncategorized
  • Life in Lucie's Shoes
  • Fit Recovery
  • lifebeyondexaggeration
  • Globe Drifting
  • I AM TOM NARDONE
  • Cathy's Voice Now

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glennkaiser.com

There and Bach Again

a teacher's journey

Dean

Marketing major. Outdoor sports lover. San Diego living.

Southern Georgia Bunny

Adventures of an Southern Bunny everything from dating, sex, life and shake your head moments.

The Rambling Biker

Roaming & Rambling in search of MTB Stoke

Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Ah dad...

I need the funny because they're teenagers now

Squeeze the Space Man's Taco

A journey into Cade's world

I didn't have my glasses on....

A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.

kidscrumbsandcrackers

Kids - I`m like the old woman who lived in a shoe - Crumbs, my house is full of them - Crackers, Im slowly going

longawkwardpause.wordpress.com/

Cycling Dutch Girl

the only certainty is change

The Shameful Sheep

Blog Woman!!! - Life Uncategorized

Mother, Nehiyaw, Metis, & Itisahwâkan - career communicator. This is my collection of opinions, stories, and the occasional rise to, or fall from, challenge. In other words, it's my party, I can fun if I want to. Artwork by aaronpaquette.net

Life in Lucie's Shoes

Life in a bubble: a dose of New York humor with an Italian twist!

Fit Recovery

Stay Clean Get Fit

lifebeyondexaggeration

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stranger

Globe Drifting

Global issues, travel, photography & fashion. Drifting across the globe; the world is my oyster, my oyster through a lens.

I AM TOM NARDONE

Cathy's Voice Now

Sharing my "voice"

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