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- The Goldilocks Zone
Inquiring customers ask me all the time what makes Northeast Nebraska so special. Sometimes folks who are unfamiliar with this area have a hard time understanding what makes it a great place to land. Having traveled ten hours west and ten hours east of home this past year, I can say, without a doubt, what makes Northeast Nebraska so special. We live in the Goldilocks Zone. You may be wondering what exactly I mean by the “Goldilocks Zone.” It’s really a simple concept in that Northeast Nebraska is the perfect balance of many attractive features. We Nebraskans are often too modest to admit this. I mean, our most recent tourism campaign, “Nebraska, it’s not for everyone,” sends a mixed message. A very highly paid ad agency did a great job of keeping us the best kept secret in all the 50 states. So, what makes this the Goldilocks Zone? Depending on the time of the year, it can be argued that the weather is too cold and/or too hot. However, we do often get to experience all four seasons (if only for a few days), which provides a nice variety of weather for most of us. What I noticed moreso from our travels is that we are able to enjoy most everything in moderation here in Northeast Nebraska. For example, the further east we traveled, population and traffic density increased while the further west we traveled, we started to feel a bit lonely out on the open prairie. I mentioned in a recent blog post that I thought I could be a rancher in my younger days. Although the freedom of the old west has been romanticized in movies and television throughout the years, I have found that my youthful infatuation has been exchanged for the modern convenience of nearby medical facilities in case of an accident, the ability to run to town for a gallon of milk instead of planning a 100 mile excursion, and the handiness of continuous running water without having to haul it 50 miles to a sagebrush resort in the Wyoming foothills. Plus, have you seen the Northeast Nebraska sunrises and sunsets? That local characteristic alone makes me a believer! In addition, our road system is much easier to navigate than that of our friends back east who traverse roundabouts and hair pin curves daily. Plus, the speed limit and traffic flow allows us to travel at what might be considered ludicrous speed to transport goods and services across the area. The Northeast Nebraska landscape is often labeled as “flat and monotonous,” but it is just flat enough to allow for roads and highways to cut in mostly straight paths across the majority of the area. This is truly something that can easily be taken for granted until you are wandering aimlessly in the dark across the State of Wisconsin at a constant 45 mph while thinking how much more practical it would have been to fly. My friends, it should be no secret what makes Northeast Nebraska the perfect place to live and work. We have low unemployment, access to natural resources for manufacturing and construction, and a generally scenic landscape (newcomers comment regularly about the pretty drive into Wayne). From my perspective, the fact that we have a moderate amount of people, traffic, and fresh running water is enough to keep me thinking that Northeast Nebraska is just right. Even Goldilocks would agree that this is the perfect place to plant your roots. Welcome Home. The Golden Light of sunrise in Northeast Nebraska
- The Home Place
The Original White Farmhouse at The Home Place If you are a close friend or acquaintance of mine, you have maybe noticed that I have poured my heart and soul into building a life in Northeast Nebraska. It is a region that I truly love. However, real estate was not my first choice of career, even though it turned out to be the best choice. A younger me was devoted to having a career in the ag industry, something that I still long for on occasion. I wanted to have a brood of kids, chickens, and livestock running wild on a section of ground that I would spend days and nights cultivating and harvesting with my husband. I even considered at one point that I could be a horse woman and live on a ranch in western Nebraska if the opportunity presented itself (more details on why that would have been a bad decision in a future post). Having spent over 20 years in the real estate industry, I found myself floundering through 2024 to stay ahead of the market, the technology, and the "noise." I was losing my "why." I needed to get back to the heart of things, and I took to reading and writing to try and work out my mid-career crisis. It was out of this period of uncertainty that the calling for The Home Place sprang to life. It was like a rejuvenation of my soul when I wrote those words down in a tattered school notebook I had salvaged from last year's post-school bookbag clean out. In fact, it is all I could think about for the last four months. You see, The Home Place represents a place where people first put down roots when the area was settled. It has long been used to describe the base of operations for local farming operations as well as to chronicle where people started out. The realization that I am honoring The Home Place and the century old white farmhouse for which White Farmhouse Realty, LLC is named brings a sense of peace to my troubled mind. But, The Home Place has taken on a double meaning when coupled with the fact that I see White Farmhouse Realty as being The "Home" Place in Northeast Nebraska. This is my center of operations. When people think of real estate, I want them to think of what makes White Farmhouse Realty special. I want them to think of this as the place where they not only feel at home but the place that can help bring them home and plant their roots. It has truly been a re-energizing process. In the midst of all the chaos, I took to rebuilding the website due to issues with the site platform that were causing me heartburn. This turned into about a six month process largely because I was having a hard time finding my voice when I first started the site build with the incredibly talented owner of Creatively Seeded, Tracee Larson (please look Tracee up if you are in need of branding, web design, and other marketing services https://www.creativelyseeded.com/ ). I had to step away from things for about 30 days because I needed to regroup, let the ideas simmer, and figure out how to get them out on my terms. Plus, November and December proved to be extremely busy months for real estate sales. Thankfully, I had a patient team who gave me some grace to write...and rewrite...and then rewrite again until we got to the finish line. Rest assured, as I sit here today, I am in a much better place personally and professionally. I am excited for the new things that 2025 holds for all of us here at White Farmhouse. We have a new member of our sales team, Sarah Larson. Her youth and optimism are bringing a new vibe to the workplace. It is exhilarating to be able to share my professional experiences as well as witness her experiencing all the firsts that I encountered 20 years ago. My respect to Anne Nolte for giving me the same chance back in 2004 as a very green college graduate who wasn't afraid of much except everything all at once. I am having a full circle moment being able to offer that same opportunity to others. With that, I'll leave you with an oldie, but a goodie. Please take a moment to read about The Home Place that started it all and maybe catch a glimpse as to why farm life will always be a dream I hope attain even though I have a strong attachment to the career that chose me instead: The White Farmhouse story has been in the making for generations. A two-story white farmhouse sits on a family farm located near the southern edge of Wayne County. That farmhouse is a sanctuary after a long day’s work. It provides safety during summer storms, warmth during winter snows, and security throughout the year. It holds memories of learning to ride bikes, hauling hay, walking beans every 4th of July, baling straw on the hottest day of the year, and caring for something other than just oneself. It is where spring calves have been nursed on the concrete basement floor during late season snow storms, ending with both good and bad outcomes. It is where all of the outbuildings were painted one summer after wrecking a pickup just a mile down the road. It is canning tomatoes in the kitchen and gathering eggs from the henhouse with Mom. It is checking cows and hauling livestock and grain to market with Dad. To this day, it is a place of goals, dreams, and hard work. It still stands as a place of refuge and comfort. That White Farmhouse is about a family, working together, and building a life around a business. It embodies everything for which our company stands. This is real life. This is White Farmhouse Realty, LLC. Welcome Home.
- White Farmhouse Story
Many of you have asked me about the name of my company, White Farmhouse Realty, LLC. The White Farmhouse comes from my first home. Simple as that. It is a place that shaped me into the person I am today and that continues to shape me and my family on a daily basis. I cannot think of a better way for me to represent your next home purchase or sale than to share my real life story of what home means to me. I look forward to each and every transaction that might result in helping someone else find a place that shapes their lives as much as my first home has shaped mine. The White Farmhouse Story A two-story white farmhouse sits on a family farm located near the southern edge of Wayne County. For generations, that farmhouse has been a sanctuary after a long day’s work. This farmhouse has provided safety during summer storms, warmth during winter snows, and security through all seasons of the year. It holds memories of learning to ride bikes, hauling hay, walking beans every 4th of July, baling straw on the hottest day of the year. It’s also caring for something other than just yourself. This is where spring calves were nursed on the concrete basement floor during late season snow storms, which often meant coping with good and bad outcomes. The farmhouse is where all of the outbuildings were painted one summer after wrecking a pickup just a mile down the road. It’s canning tomatoes in the kitchen and gathering eggs in the henhouse with mom. And it’s checking cows and hauling livestock and grain to market with dad. To this day, the farmhouse is a place to solve problems through ingenuity, collaboration, and forward thinking. It’s a place of goals, dreams, and hard work. And it still stands as a place of refuge and comfort. That white farmhouse is about one family, working together, and building a life around a business. It embodies everything for which our company stands. This is real life. This is White Farmhouse Realty. Welcome Home.
- Simple Pleasures in Hard Times
“The real things haven’t changed. It is still best to be honest and truthful. To make the most of what we have. To be happy with simple pleasures and to have courage when things go wrong.” ~Laura Ingalls Wilder My favorite author was once quoted as saying, “ The real things haven’t changed. It is still best to be honest and truthful. To make the most of what we have. To be happy with simple pleasures and to have courage when things go wrong. ” The words of Laura Ingalls Wilder are especially true during this impactful time in our lives. I have largely kept my opinions regarding COVID-19 to myself in an effort to keep the social media trolls from dragging me down into the depths any further. I’ve been through all five stages of loss in the last 14 days. Denial had me 14 days ago. Then, we locked our doors to the public on Tuesday, March 17th. Those feelings switched over to anger and sadness as to why we couldn’t find a better solution at this time. Next, I started bargaining by looking for options for child care, evaluating how to keep doing our jobs as normal, and working through the proper protective procedures. I lost myself to tears in the shower on Friday morning, and I had a brief bout of depression over the weekend as to how we were going to get through this thing. Now, I’m moving into acceptance mode. All five stages in one week. Talk about an emotional roller coaster. I’m exhausted and I’m sure many of you can relate. I am waiting for the relapse because, let’s face facts, we are only about 14 full days into this thing. Check on me when we get to day 100 because the ball game is bound to change (if we are even allowed to play ball by that time!) Nonetheless, I am drawing hope from the simplest of things right now. While preparing supper with my family on Tuesday night, I saw this quotation proudly perched on my kitchen counter amid a clutter of school papers and dirty dishes. It brought me comfort and gave me a sense of peace to think about those words and what they mean to us during this time. That comfort ballooned into thoughts about the trials and tribulations that Laura Ingalls Wilder endured throughout her entire life. From moving across the American frontier of the late 1800s, to the isolation I’m sure she and her family faced as pioneers of the West. They suffered through disease, illness, Indian encounters, wild animals, death, poor harvests, hard winters, and devastating events. Yet, the message she has shared with generations is one of hope, perseverance, and true American determination. Throughout all of Wilder’s writings, discouragement and defeat are rarely memorialized despite the most difficult of times. If you ask me, she suffered far worse than any of us have even come close to seeing at this point. For the most part, we still have ready access to reliable food sources, warm homes powered by electricity and running water, the ability to provide our children with a sound education, and the love of close friends and family (even if it is from afar). I don’t know about you, but I haven’t made one trip to the creek yet to get water, and I haven’t tied pieces of prairie hay into knots to keep the cookstove fire going. Better yet, I’m not trekking across the barren Nebraska prairie in a covered wagon. In case you haven’t heard, cruise night is tomorrow, and gas is cheap. Load up the covered wagon and let’s raise hell and praise Dale (Earnhardt) in the only country in the world where I can make that statement and people actually know what I am talking about. Moreover, parents, don’t be hard on yourselves regarding your children’s education. Believe it or not, we are all teachers. Our children are learning everything they need to know about being good human beings when we provide them with love, safety, and the occasional Bear Hunt. Showing compassion to them and others will go further than any lesson they will learn out of a book. My kids have learned a multitude of useful life lessons this week. For example, “Do not flush wet wipes down the toy-lit (toilet)” is posted loud and proud on a sign in the front window of our building. This word of advice comes straight from the heart of my 6-year-old and it brings me joy to know he is listening and paying attention to the real struggles we are facing right now as a company and a community low on toilet paper! We are making the most of what we have (which is far more than what most have). Life isn’t all real estate and roses. Let us be happy with our simple pleasures today and always. Stay courageous when things go wrong. Welcome Home.
- Record Year
I haven’t been sleeping much since I got this hair-brained idea to expand my real estate game in 2020. I’m living on caffeine, grain alcohol, ibuprofen, a bit of nicotine, Tums, hard seltzer, and a prayer. Just call me Bon Jovi. The first year for any new business is tough, but if I get taken down by some disease a bat promulgated without gaining super hero powers to save Gotham City, I will be completely devastated. (As if my real estate signs going all Wizard of Oz on me due to the slightest popcorn fart of wind wasn’t enough excitement in the first three months. Sorry, April from Lowen Sign Company. Your signs might “be strong enough for the Kansas prairie,” but Nebraska takes wind to a whole new level.) The pandemic has introduced a level of problem solving and disaster planning to which I’ve had to adapt even though I’ve prepped for things like this my entire adult life. Both my boys were delivered in emergency situations with very little notice. I’ve had to make fast decisions with livestock since a young age to prevent them from escaping a pen or causing harm to others. And, I have been reading farmer’s minds, lips, and hand signals for the better half of 38 years. I’m used to the repercussions of making the wrong decision sometimes. In fact, this lifestyle is probably the main reason why I enjoy real estate so much. No two days are the same, and I enjoy the challenge. It is rare to encounter a seamless transaction even though our perfect TV world makes it seem so easy. For the most part, every transaction requires an experienced agent to navigate the hoops of dealing with lenders, underwriters, appraisers, and all the different buyer personalities. In addition, no time in recent history has been more emotional than the last two weeks and those that are yet to come. An agent’s job is to separate the emotion of the sale from the real impact your decision making has on your life and financial future. I’m still fine-tuning the art. And, I often have to “sleep on it” (or not sleep in other words) before I can see the true benefit of collaborating on a deal versus competing on it some days. Trust me, there is a difference. But, I digress. Getting back to my decision of starting a business this year has gotten me thinking about what the world will look like 20 years from now. Actually, I’m more interested in what my business will look like 20 years from now. We are all learning new ways of doing business from video conferencing, to digital signatures, and even digital notarizations! Can we completely eliminate the human element from an industry in a matter of three weeks? If the answer is yes, then we have evolved into something more than I want to be a part of right now. I long for human contact and interaction despite my introverted personality. If this industry transforms into a computer screen and a cell phone, then this entire world is in for a huge wake-up call (and that is one Google Duo call I will not answer)! There is still something to be said for human interaction and communication once COVID-19 is all said and done! I have long advocated for a good old-fashioned phone call versus a text message, a personal visit versus an email, or a strong handshake to seal a deal. Living in a video world hidden behind a computer screen does not represent the human touch the real estate industry and so many other industries desperately need to function effectively. In spite of what happens this year, I can say with utmost confidence that this will be a record year for White Farmhouse Realty, LLC (mainly because I have nothing else to compare it to)! I hope that you will join me in breaking all sales records and goals by trusting your next home sale or purchase to WFR. Let’s be a part of history in the making! I almost can’t wait to tell my grandkids what we went through in 2020—the year I started my business. I keep telling myself that this year with be the year to make all others pale in comparison. One thing is certain, though. I truly hope we can meet face-to-face without proper protective equipment to share a laugh, a meal, a smile, or a long conversation about that one time when we lived through the COVID-19 global pandemic. Life isn’t all real estate and roses, but I’m looking forward to a “record year” and the day when I can actually shake your hand again and say “thank you” for making it happen. Welcome Home.
- The Red Riding Hood Covid Showdown
Time to get real. This week has not consisted of any Covid shining moments for me. Yesterday, I managed to get into a knock-down, drag-out fight over Little Red Riding Hood with my 6-year old. It ended with me literally tearing his assignment into teeny-tiny pieces right in front of him. All because he wouldn’t do his homework when told. Definitely not my shiniest mom moment. Good thing he was able to complete the online backup. His tearful, kicking and screaming response to my actions then led to a phone call to my husband as I tried to pawn my eldest off. Of course, my husband was in BFE spending day three getting a certain planter running. And so continues the Covid saga of the work/life/school/mom/friend/wife/what the hell day is it balance. My apologies to my co-workers for the consistent gnashing of teeth they have endured throughout the past month. The Red Riding Hood Covid Showdown is only the icing on the cake for this week. Is it really only Wednesday? I’ve been hearing from friends and colleagues about the stimulus money they have all received. I’m not going to lie; I threw in on the Emergency Income Disaster Loan money that the SBA was offering. All I got back in response was a measly email saying that my business is too small to support. I employ fewer than three people. My company doesn’t contribute enough to the economy to matter. (I made this part up, but that’s how it made me feel). Nevermind the millions of dollars of yearly stimulus local real estate provides for the local community through home sales, property tax dollars, support of local lenders, and housing for people in our community who will, in turn, shop locally and support the businesses in our community. I admit, my application was a long-shot. I’ve only been in business four months now, and I have no history on the books. I’m glad to know that I’ll have to figure this out on my own without any help from the Feds. Speaking of the Feds, they provided me another not so shiny moment this week. Most of you might know that a good majority of the loans that lenders provide are sold on the secondary loan market to some government secured entities known as Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. Since the government controls these entities, they hand down the rules for how those loans are packaged and sold on the secondary market exchange as mortgage backed securities. It just so happens that the powers that be have now allowed appraisers to conduct drive-by appraisals if the loan is projected to be sold to Fannie or Freddie. That was great news two weeks ago when I was sweating bullets as to how we would be able to get houses appraised in this new environment. Fast forward to Monday. I receive a text message from an appraiser with a link to an internet portal where I, as a real estate agent, can enter data and photos to assist the appraiser and keep the appraiser safe from entering a property. Guess what? That data portal has a location tracker that has to be linked to my phone’s GPS coordinates. Now guess who has to be physically INSIDE THE PROPERTY to upload those photos needed for the appraisal? So, the appraiser’s life is valuable, but mine, not so much. I asked the appraiser if a drive-by of the property would be completed as part of the inspection. Said appraiser did not see the need to drive to Wayne to do that when I’m right here and can do it all. My overload circuit went off at this point and my response was not so friendly or professional. Guess what, the appraiser doesn’t care, big banks don’t care, Freddie and Fannie don’t care, and the Feds don’t care. They are in it to win it, and they are doing a bang up job of taking advantage of those of us who are “too small to support.” Let’s face it, WE THE PEOPLE, those of us right here in Wayne, America, are the only stakeholders who are going to take care of Wayne, America when it comes right down to it. Today is a new day. I’m pulling up my boot straps and putting on my homemade face mask to figure out how to keep my business and our economy strong. Let’s be smart about what we do, how we do it, and who we do it with. Keep your business local. If you want to support the financial powerhouses of the world, more power to you. However, I’m tired of putting my ass-ets on the line to fuel the establishment. Let’s take care of us right where we need to be taking care of business. Right here, right now. We have everything we need in our community to survive. Let’s do good for each other, be good to each other, and stop giving away our most valuable time, energy, and financial resources. That being said, I am grateful to be a business that is too small to support. It means that we have the fortunate opportunity to continue to function under new standards on a daily basis. My heart aches for those who are not so fortunate. My staff has been a Godsend as we have adapted to changes seemingly overnight. How fitting that today is Administrative Professionals Day. I have one stellar office manager who has been through the good, the bad, and the ugly of real estate with me for 16 years now. Becky Brudigam, this shout-out is for you. (This feels like one of those Bud Light commercials promoting “Real American Heroes.”) And I can’t forget Marie Janke who helps out with the real estate sales and property management at our office. Both of them have stepped up their game to keep things going smoothly in a not-so-smooth environment. As I’ve said before, 2020 is a year like we have never seen before in our real estate careers! Thanks especially for tolerating the last four months of flying by the seat of my pants and learning that there is no plan like the one that changes every hour. Life isn’t all real estate and roses, but we are going to order some local take-out for lunch, support a local business or two, and forget about the fact that I lost my mind yesterday over Little Red Riding Hood. Welcome Home.
- Lucky #7
We drew a wild card this year, but it just so happens I have an ace in the hole. Lucky Logan Peters turns lucky #7 today. He’s sporting his first wiggly tooth and counting on some bank from the tooth fairy this week. Who knows, today might even be the lucky day at the rate things are going! PERSEVERANCE Seven. Years. My May Day, mayday! Snow storm and all! I wanted to take a moment to reflect on all the little things that continue to amaze me about my strong-willed, not-so-little-anymore boy. He is finishing up his first grade year at Wayne Elementary. What a year it has been. He loves having Mrs. Thomas for his teacher. Best one he’s ever had, he says. I ask him, “Well, what about Mrs. Rockhill, your kindergarten teacher?” He just smiles and slyly says, “She was the best one I ever had last year.” Right or wrong, he always has a clever answer regardless of the question. It’s been a rough year on every child. Logan has struggled with reading and writing. He still has a hard time remembering which way his b’s and d’s go, and he would much rather listen to me read a story than read it himself. I have struggled with the fact that maybe I haven’t invested enough time in him to teach him what he needs to know. All the same, he has persevered. His vocabulary and comprehension skills are impressive when he wants them to be. I continue to reiterate that “there is a lot of Peters in that one.” (He gets much of his ambition for schoolwork from his dad.) Yet, when you ask him about why farmers apply anhydrous ammonia to a corn field, he correlates it perfectly to a can of Right Guard deodorant spray. In his words, “You see, anhydrous pulls the moisture out of the ground in much the same way that deodorant keeps perspiration out of your armpit.” What? Mind blown. He is a smart cookie. He just needs to apply his work to something that he actually cares about like farming, tractors, large agricultural equipment, annoying his younger brother, or livestock. PATIENCE The other night I was enjoying a cold beverage on the patio thinking about how much patience it takes to wait for a seed to pop out of the ground or for the trees to bud in the spring. This got me thinking of the patience a 6-year old needs to have the month before he turns 7. All of the anticipation, the hints being dropped about presents, and the talk of how he will escape all those birthday spankings have been a part of our daily conversation (not to mention the impending loss of that wiggly tooth)! While every parent in America is experiencing a significant decline in their level of patience, think about what the children of the world have had to endure. My boys have had to sit quietly through Zoom contract overview meetings, house showings, apartment inspections, and night or weekend implement service calls as the world they know was literally turned upside down overnight. Somedays, I have to continually remind myself that my MOST ESSENTIAL job is raising two little boys! Our backup daycare providers are busy in the field too. Through all of this, I’d like to think we are teaching our boys work ethic and the value of a job well done, but I fear that I am teaching them that they will always have to take the back burner to someone or something else. I fear that the patience they have shown to all of us throughout the last 30 plus days will run out and they will rebel. We’ve been through the melt downs, the homework fights, the rage of no afternoon nap, and the sadness of no time to plant our garden yet or to test out a new bike on the trail. Nonetheless, we can all learn from a 7-year-old to show a little more patience through grace. CARING Earlier this week, Logan did end up spending a day at the farm helping fertilize and plant corn. He loves to help with chores and fieldwork. He was helping scoop the bunks prior to feeding cattle that evening, and he didn’t notice that his cousin was standing right behind him (social distancing is hard for little kids). He smacked his little buddy right in the face with his scoop handle and cut a gash above the little guy’s lip. Logan felt so bad he cried and cried when he got home. We called out to the farm to check on his cousin later that evening, and Logan even sat down and made him a homemade “sorry” card with candy taped to it. He cares about doing the right thing, and he cares about others. It is one of the most honorable characteristics a 7-year-old can have in my opinion. He has also gotten really good at being a big brother by teaching his little bro all the tricks of the trade. FAITH This leads to my last sentiment for the day. Seven years ago I woke up in a recovery room having barely seen my newborn baby boy before being sedated shortly after his birth. I was sad because everybody in the hospital got to hold him and see him before I did. It wasn’t my perfect vision of motherhood. In fact, not much of my experience in the past seven years has been the perfect vision of motherhood I had when I was 20 years old and my life was all planned out. It took a lot of faith for this first-time mom to face the daunting task of parenthood seven years ago. And, it still takes faith every day to trust that I am doing the right things as a mom. Logan spurs my success as a mom and business woman regularly. He supports my decisions, yet never hesitates to offer his own advice, help, and encouragement when needed. He has faith in me. Logan is my very special, hard-working, stubborn-as-a-mule, little man. On this very important day, we shall put aside all of the anxiety, stress, uneasiness, and speculation encompassing our lives. This is his day. He is going to have to sit through some boring apartment inspections, but I’ll probably let him squeak by with little or no homework. And tonight, we’ll dine on grilled hamburgers…or tacos (he hasn’t decided yet) while we play a game of catch with his new baseball mitt or zip around the block on his new-to-him bike with real shocks and a shifter. Most importantly, we will eat peanut butter cake with ice cream at his brother’s demand. Life isn’t all real estate and roses, but the perseverance, patience, caring, and faith of a new 7-year-old means we will have our cake and eat it too. Welcome Home.
- Welcome to the Future
Today marks the start of the 2020-2021 school year for Wayne Community Schools. One thing I can say for sure is that we are sending tomorrow’s leaders out into a whole new world this school year. As I was getting ready for the day, I had the local news on, mainly to see the weather forecast for the week. However, every other story was about the trials and tribulations, the arguments, the discontent, and the disagreements about opening public schools. Little did I realize that my second grader was watching intently and soaking up every word. He started asking questions about school and if we are doing the right thing. I truthfully answered him that I do not know if we are doing the right thing. Nonetheless, I felt comfortable sending him to school today knowing that he has been watching me conduct business for the last several months in a fog of alcohol sanitizer and Clorox bleach. He knows the protocols for protecting himself, and he knows the best practices to try to keep others safe. The icing on the cake was when four of his cousins all pulled up to the drop zone at the same time, and my heart sang a little bit to see them all masked up and walking in together to start this new adventure in life and learning. Believe me when I say that I am confident our children will adapt to a new way of doing things. And, I am confident that the students you took photos of this morning with masks on and mini hand sanitizer bottles attached the straps of their overloaded book bags will be the driving force in years to come to solve first world problems such as pandemics, racial inequality, civil rights injustices, and many other forms of adversity. They are the engineers, the problem solvers, the counselors, the tradesmen and women, the scientists, the entrepreneurs, and the teachers who will take us all into a new era. We are building tomorrow’s leaders today. Our approach and our actions towards how we do so will be the greatest lesson they can ever learn. Thank you to the teachers, administrators, and staff of Wayne Community Schools and all the surrounding area schools who are setting out on this great adventure today and in the coming days with our children. May you find strength, motivation, and determination in knowing that you are building the leaders of tomorrow. As we plod through this year of unknowns, I will leave you with this one final thought from Colleen Wilcox: “Teaching is the greatest act of optimism.” Welcome Home.
- Ode to the Window Washer Woman
Alas, the summer light fades into the early darkness of daylight savings time. The harvest is over, and the harvest log chronicling the high and lows of this year’s harvest season has been put to rest for the year. With all of my free time, I checked out a 550 page book from the public library and started making plans for the work that still needs done to our building. My husband has his frowny face on for that project. I must patiently wait for the Kool-aid man to do his job. The back burner-ed household and office duties, though numerous, are all outweighted by one ultimate goal: to wash the windows while the weather holds. Picture this, it is late Saturday afternoon, and a full day’s work has already been accomplished at the real job. For some odd reason, the Window Washer Woman gets the urge to start washing the windows at home in between loads of laundry. Upon starting, I notice how the sills have become weathered and sun beaten. So, I fall into another rabbit hole and decide to head to the local hardware store for some stain and polyurethane. Upon arriving back home, I figure that I might as well throw the curtains in the washing machine to freshen them up too. Then, I run a little water in the bathtub because the window screens are horrendously dirty and in need of a good washing. I take care of each one and set them aside to dry. Finally, I start on the windows. The weathered wood of each sill is carefully sanded down. I work quickly to vacuum and wipe away the sawdust and dirt from the woodwork and frame making sure to clean the tracks with a cloth over the end of a knife like my mom taught me many years ago. There is a relaxing solitude about the process. Working steadily, I move from side to side and room to room until I make it into the kitchen. The last one. The one that stares back at me the most as I cook supper, wash dishes, and prepare lunches. Apparently, I spend too much time in the kitchen. Just as I’m sanding and prepping the sill, in walks my husband, home from the farm with the boys. Everybody starts dropping clothes, shoes, toys, water bottles, and a Pringles can in my zone of solitude. The youngest one starts up the step stool wanting to help. At this point, I just want to get done and chastise him off the ladder. I keep working. I feel eyes watching me. Then, the question, “Any ideas for supper?” Oh, yes, let me get right on that as my left foot is propped on the kitchen counter my left arm hangs from the kitchen cabinet beside the sink, and I strain to reach the upper corner of the window above the sink like I’m playing a sick game of Twister. Nobody moves as I refuse to answer while I concentrate on finishing my job. Then, my husband starts in. “What have you been doing all day?” The piles of unfolded laundry in the living room, the dirty dishes in the sink, and my will to avoid an argument force me to bite my tongue. “Does this really need to be done right now? It’s not like it’s harvest and we are trying to get the corn out before the rain comes next week.” Oh honey, you have no idea. I finish my washing and prep work, the staining had to wait until Sunday. I offer him a glaring response and head down to the basement to unload the fourth load of laundry of the day debating the entire way what I need to grab from the beer fridge in that same general vicinity. We settled on frozen pizza for supper. The polyurethane awaits application, but I did get the windows washed before the rain set in. And, I even finished my book before my youngest son decided he needed a 1 a.m. solitary moment with the Window Washer Woman in the rocking chair. Welcome Home.
- The Freedom Trail
Last week, I was asked by a local citizen who is a part of the Voices for Vision Coalition (VVC) to support a measure to establish a task force and a name for the approximately six miles of trail system that wind through and around the City of Wayne. Upon reading the letter accompanying the request, my initial response was to simply not sign the petition for the naming of the trail. Not being one to act out of haste, I stewed on it a day and then returned a call to the individual who sent the request to let her know that I had decided not to support the naming of the trail. My reason: I did not want to be affiliated with what appeared to be a politically motivated naming of the trail. Don’t ask me why that was my first reaction to the request. Maybe it is because we are all hypersensitive to the rhetoric we have been hearing in Washington DC. Maybe it is because I have felt and seen the backlash of doing or not doing something in this day and age that pits neighbor against neighbor. Maybe it is because having an opinion on something in our society means that you slit your own throat as a business owner with the 50 percent who don’t share your same ideology. Maybe I’m just sick of the derision and contempt spewing from every digital device on a daily basis. Maybe I’m just tired. Period. For whatever reason, I decided to be Switzerland and play neutral. The next day, I had lunch with a good friend at an undisclosed location. (Socially distanced for those who want to lash me with a wet noodle for even daring to indulge). I brought the matter up having seen some familiar names on the list of supporters and asked her take on the measure. We had a great discussion about the trail and what it offers to Wayne, including the fact that it can be a great marketing tool for our community and a business such as mine when people ask the question, “So, what is there to do around here?” “Well, let me tell you about our trail system…” My friend also offered insights about the ideas behind the letter of support for the naming of the trail which warranted a second call to my friendly member of the VVC who so graciously listened to my case the day before. The second call was far more productive. I was able to focus and truly hear the meaning behind the proposed name for the trail. The Freedom Trail. A name that can mean so much to people from all different walks of life. A name that has particular gravity in light of the persecution, violence, and discrimination many others have faced in recent months on American soil. The great melting pot. A name that signifies the struggle to obtain that for which we all strive, the freedom to live our lives without fear of violence or retribution simply because of our skin color, our beliefs, or our abilities. The Freedom Trail. The Voices for Vision Coalition has a great vision for our community and those of us who enjoy the freedom of being American citizens. The VVC not only hopes to name The Freedom Trail, but also use it as a tool for educating all those who choose to travel it about freedom and the sacrifice freedom requires. Such a simple concept blurred by the fears of retribution and politics. I am tired of the derision we all have to face in this day and age. I am ready for a change. I support the naming of the Freedom Trail. I support the Voices for Vision Coalition. And, I hope we can all burn three days and two phone calls to truly see the motivation behind their plea for justice and equality for all. Freedom is not just a privilege that should be enjoyed by a select few. Freedom is for all. Welcome Home.
- Toaster Tortillas and Other Burning Objects
Like any good and dysfunctional marriage, my husband and I do not have the same perspectives on meal preparation at our house. I take a more conventional approach as taught by my mother and grandmother which requires days of planning and a monthly grocery list that usually results in the bulk of our intake for the entire month in one single trip the store. On the other hand, my husband is more of a hunter/scavenger type who once survived for years on his own by living on Hamburger Helper, frozen pizzas on the Presto Pizzazz, Busch Light, and the legendary Sunday night neighborhood cookouts where the potato loaf and spicy food with entirely too many red pepper flakes were born. His meal plan starts when most of us are getting ready for bed each night. In doing so, he has learned handy tricks for quick meals and fast fixes to soggy bread. One such fix includes the highly unusual “toaster tortilla.” This is for those who like a crispy, yet pliable, tortilla shell without the sogginess of the microwave (or so I’m told). It generally ends up with a smoking, burnt smelling particle of tortilla living in the bottom of the toaster for two weeks until it disintegrates. A happy ending for all (or so I’m told). In an attempt to assist my husband with my often late evening work schedule, I decided that we should invest in an air fryer. I figured it would be a fast and easy way for him (or me) to throw down some chicken nuggets and tater tots when we got into the rush of spring (wait, or are we already there??) Anyway, planting season will be upon us soon, which means both of us will be burning the candle at both ends even moreso than we are now. The air fryer arrived on our doorstep on Thursday after considerable research to find the perfect fit for our family of four (again, planner over here!) I was so excited when I got home (yes, I get excited about kitchen appliances) that I decided to make our entire supper in it. Rule Number One of the air fryer: do not make the entire supper in it. By the time you empty the basket and make the 2nd and 3rd parts of the meal, the first part of the meal is cold and unappetizing OR it has become the appetizer. Out of sheer convenience, and because it was the only clear space I had on the counter to accommodate the spread, I was using the stove top for my staging area. About an hour into this ordeal, everything was finally ready (should’ve just used the oven). So, I compartmentalized the dishes on the stovetop, and left the chicken nuggets in the air fryer basket so they would stay warm while I dished up the plates for the boys. We notoriously serve our meals buffet style at home, so I let my husband get his own plate and put it together himself. Somewhere in the middle of all this, the brand new air fryer got pushed back on the stove top against one of the burner controls, and the burner turned on to the highest setting in the shuffle. In a million years, we could not have created a more perfect storm. Everybody finally got settled down to eat our “quick and easy” meal, when the smell of burning plastic starts to permeate the room. Low and behold the entire bottom of the air fryer is melted off and the spoon rest is melted to the stove burner. Lovely. A few choice words later and one air fryer left smoking in the garage, it was clearly time for bed. Needless to say, my efforts to simplify our mealtimes this week turned out to be an epic failure. It also brought an abrupt end to my 40 days of giving up my bad habit of taking out the bad things of the day on my family. My husband is still trying to convince me that we can salvage the unit. Thank goodness I bought the cheap, high capacity model that Good Housekeeping recommended, and I’m back on the wagon for my 40 day challenge. For now, I’ll indulge in the lessons about fire prevention all this has taught us along with a few moments of solitude to haul that stupid air fryer out to the pasture so I can beat it to a plastic pulp with a baseball bat. Welcome Home.
- For the Graduates
Author’s note: The following is an excerpt from an address that was given at the 2012 Spring Commencement for Graduate and Master’s students at Wayne State College. It was written the day my grandpa passed away in March 2012. I felt it fitting for the high school and college classes of 2020 and 2021 as they prepare to graduate this weekend, especially considering the hardships they have faced throughout the pandemic: My Grandpa Hansen, a very wise man, often told me, “Slow down! You’re going too fast!” (Usually in regard to my driving, my pace of mowing lawn, or the time I spent with him and Grandma). He was not a renowned educator or philosopher by trade. He was a farmer. He earned a Purple Heart serving his country during World War II and raised a family upon his return home. This man was dignified in his own right having graduated from high school, a feat that many did not achieve in those days. His wife made it through the eighth grade before taking on a job as a hired girl to help support her family during the Depression. Despite their limited educational opportunities, both my grandpa and grandma believed in the value of an education and they never discouraged their children or grandchildren from learning or receiving a higher education. After all, they felt that education was the only way a person could ensure being able to seize the opportunities that life has to offer. That being said, this wise man was always quick to say that the seemingly outrageous ideas of his children and grandchildren were the result of a college education. Nonetheless, he was always proud to hear that they were doing well in school and were finding success in life despite the fact that they needed to “Slow down!” Because, they were going too fast. Surprisingly, it has taken 30 years for those words to finally sink in. I took these words for granted all through my undergraduate years at Wayne State. I worked hard, hoping for the day when graduation would come and I could get out into the “real world.” Graduation day came and was soon followed by a full-time job. And, still, those words kept being said, “Slow down! You’re going too fast.” Two and a half years ago, I had the opportunity to enter into the Masters of Business Administration program at Wayne State. Life took on a whole new pace as I continued to work full-time while taking one or two classes each semester and teaching undergraduate courses as a graduate assistant. Things became very hectic as I tried to balance family, work, and school. Many of us are in the same boat. Think about it. We are taught from a young age that we shouldn’t let life pass us by. We are supposed to be better, faster, and harder working that the person sitting next to us. However, in many respects, we are “going too fast.” Think back to those late nights and early mornings when you rushed through assignments to beat a deadline. If you are like me, many of your coffee breaks at work and noontime lunch hours were filled with homework, forum discussions, or research for an upcoming file paper. Some days, we tried to squeeze four hours worth of work into fifteen minutes. Some days, we neglected our family or our home to get our work done. Some days, we got upset with those who care about us the most because we just did not have time to deal with their problems and ours too. Some days, we ignored our jobs and coworkers because we were trying to finish up a big project. And some days, we were ready to give it up altogether because we were just tired of “going too fast.” Those are the days when the realization came that it is time to “slow down.” Throughout our college experience at Wayne State, we have been taught how to be the best at what we set out to do. This means that we have to go the extra mile to obtain a degree and increase our opportunities in life. It also means that we have been going fast. We have worked hard! The wonderful thing is that we did not give up. We persevered in much the same way that my grandpa worked all those years to teach his children and grandchildren the value of a quality education and the value of slowing down long enough to enjoy the people and things that surround us. When it comes right down to it, he was the one who was going the fastest of us all. As we gather today among our family, friends, and peers who have triumphed and struggled with us to get to this point, I encourage each and every one of us to “Slow down, because we have been going too fast.” Take the time to enjoy this momentous occasion in our lives and revel in our accomplishment with those who care about our success the most. We have worked hard, but our families and friends have worked even harder to support us and make our dreams come true. Congratulations and best of luck to all as we celebrate this exciting day. Today is the day to slow down, have a chat with your grandpa, and enjoy it for all that it is worth.”