In 1972, when I was 21, I had surgery to remove a malignant tumor on my thyroid gland. In the hospital a nurse came into my room when I was alone and told me not to worry – I could expect to live a full thirty years.
Thirty years later, in the spring of 2002, my sister was getting ready to attend something called a digital storytelling workshop on the anniversary of my surgery. On a whim, I asked if I could go with her. Secretly, I thought that maybe a trip together would give her something to remember me by.
My sister and I saw each other regularly but always in the context of family events and had never taken time to do things together alone as adults. Even as children, I felt that our relationship mimicked that of our parents – one a performer, one always the audience. It’s a pleasure to buy a ticket for the show of your choice, something entirely different to never be allowed to leave the audience.
Frankly, I knew my computer skills were better than hers and so I offered to help her. However, my sister has multiple sclerosis and she took my offer of help to mean that I had appointed myself to be her travel companion because she was incapable of traveling alone.
We flew into San Francisco and, as we traveled, I was surprised to find that we could look at exactly the same scene and see two entirely different things. I suppose that was the first indication of how little we knew each other at the time.
I understood that my sister wanted creative control over the story – she had been the one to find the training, she had written the script, and she had a vision for the finished piece. I did know the technology better and picked up the new editing software more quickly. But, true to our history, she would call her husband long distance to ask for help rather than let me show her how to do a task. Little irritations began to grow larger and soon I began to doubt that the week would leave her with the kind of memory that I had hoped for.
On the last morning of the workshop, I was awakened by her voice, shouting to her husband over the phone in another room. She was furious that I dared to come with her, angry that I thought she needed help physically, and completely unaware of my real reason for coming. Her conversation went on forever and, by the time she hung up, I was more hurt and humiliated than I had ever been in my life. And, true to course, I didn’t say a word about it to her.
As I dropped her at the door of the center that morning, I told her that I was going to return the rental car and would not be back until it was time to see the finished pieces, leaving her to finish the story alone. She was stunned, asked why I would do such a thing and made me promise to come back to help. My heart wasn’t in it. I just wanted to get home – and away from her – as fast as I possibly could.
On the return flight, she pressed me for reasons as to why I was so quiet, why I had almost skipped the last day of class, a thousand other whys. I finally admitted that I thought she intended for me to hear her phone conversation and how much it hurt me. I think she was truly surprised, but her surprise didn’t lead to empathy. She explained my feelings away for the rest of the flight.
I had endured this from her for so many years in front of whoever might be there. On that flight, I made up my mind that no matter when or where the next attack happened, I would use the same tactic in return. Maybe if she experienced it, she would finally stop.
Interestingly enough, a couple of years later, she asked me to make the trip to California with her again and I agreed. Things started off much more easily. This time I had my own script for a story and my own computer. Our good moods lasted through most of the week and we enjoyed conversations late into the night in our hotel room. But one day I dared to say something casually in a discussion group, “You know, we were talking last night and I told my sister…” She stopped me immediately, openly, and said, “Well, I certainly never agreed with you.”
Another hurt made public. Now – make her see. So I smiled, looked her in the eyes, and said, “Just take a deep breath. Sometimes you just need to take a deep breath.” It didn’t make any sense, but the shock on her face told me I had gotten to her. I also realized instantly that she had no idea why I had done it. It hadn’t worked and I knew in that moment that I would never deliberately say something to hurt her again.
Another flight home, suffering her humiliation this time. I never even explained what prompted my comment to her. I just told her it would never happen again and I’ve tried to live up to that.
But, once the words “Once upon a time…” are written, the story has begun and it tells itself in its own way in its own time. Since then, we’ve made other trips, had happy flights home, told stories in two voices. Our first trip together initiated a narrative building less on tension and more on laughter, shared respect, and genuine concern as we continue. I hope it drags on far longer than a good story should and tempts any listeners with too many possibilities for diversion from the story they expect to hear.
We may tell it in different ways, but it will always have the same ending. We are sisters.
For more information on digital storytelling, check the Center for Digital Storytelling's website at www.storycenter.org.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Long Distance
I drove to Atlanta today and, for the first time in ten years, never turned on the radio or CD player. I really didn't want the distraction. I thought about the weekend I was getting ready to spend with my mother and sister; i thoguht about the tremendous amount of work I had to do; I let myself daydream.
But, suddenly, it hit me - what I really wanted to do was talk to my father, and although I knew in the same instant that he was gone, my hand reached for the cell phone. For that second, I was certain that it was possible to contact him hust by opening the phone. If I just hadn't remembered, maybe I could have said what I needed to say - that I haven't found "home" in Atlanta since he died, that he would be proud of all four grandsons, that I would love to talk gardening with him, that just hearing him laugh again would be a blessing. Maybe, for once, I would have the good sense just to listen.
But, suddenly, it hit me - what I really wanted to do was talk to my father, and although I knew in the same instant that he was gone, my hand reached for the cell phone. For that second, I was certain that it was possible to contact him hust by opening the phone. If I just hadn't remembered, maybe I could have said what I needed to say - that I haven't found "home" in Atlanta since he died, that he would be proud of all four grandsons, that I would love to talk gardening with him, that just hearing him laugh again would be a blessing. Maybe, for once, I would have the good sense just to listen.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Bess, the Therapy Dog
Following the November Presidential election, I considered Barack Obama’s call for Americans to become engaged in volunteer activities. I wondered how I might combine that with my weight loss goals for exercise. Through luck, we stumbled across Therapy Dogs, a national volunteer program where dogs and their owners are certified to visit hospitals, nursing homes, Alzheimer’s units, etc. I decided to give it a try with Bess.
At just under 70 pounds, Bess is much less dog than her brother Harry. Harry is 100 pounds of pure muscle and sweetness. However, he is so big and strong that he is very hard for me to manage. Bess is cuddly, goofy, playful, and sort of on the flaky side, which I think makes her a great temperament for Therapy Dogs.
We made our first observation visit to a school for children with disabilities. Bess managed the wheelchairs, walkers, and children approaching her from all sides without any problems. I have to admit that she was more interested in the other dogs there than the children, but she is getting the idea.
There are so many new experiences for her in these visits – being around children, the chance to be away from her more dominant brother, longer rides in the car, rides on elevators, the chance to spend time one-on-one with me. And meeting dogs, dogs, and more dogs of every size, breed, and description.
Two days ago we attended a spring safety event at one of our state university campuses. College kids were just the right size for Bess. I was amazed how quickly she fell into the behavior I expected from her. For once, she didn’t jump on anyone new. And, halfway through the visit, pizzas were delivered for the students to snack on. Needless to say, no pizza crust went to waste, thanks to the 6 dogs in attendance.
Last night we successfully completed our 3rd and final observation at Shriners Hospital for Children here in Greenville. We visited about 20 patient rooms. Dogs climbed up on chairs to be near tiny patients; one or two immediately jumped up on the beds in order to be within petting distance. Bess, however, preferred the child who followed us in a wheelchair, especially after she found that he was supplied with a stash of Teddy Grahams. I learned the hard way that I will need to wear lace-up walking shoes from now on. Bess was so enthusiastic that she nearly pulled me out of my comfortable slip-ons. I envisioned myself flying around the halls of the hospital like a kite, pulled by a big blonde Labradoodle who seemed to take very little notice of the human attached to the other end of her leash.
I’ve noticed Bess go into the closet off my office several times today, to see if her special leash and collar for Therapy Dogs are still hanging there. They are right where we can both keep an eye on them and, as soon as our credentials come to us from the national office, we’ll be using them to make more visits.
And, in the meantime, I’m going to get some private training lessons with Harry. He is so empathetic and so smart that I know he needs to experience this, too.
At just under 70 pounds, Bess is much less dog than her brother Harry. Harry is 100 pounds of pure muscle and sweetness. However, he is so big and strong that he is very hard for me to manage. Bess is cuddly, goofy, playful, and sort of on the flaky side, which I think makes her a great temperament for Therapy Dogs.
We made our first observation visit to a school for children with disabilities. Bess managed the wheelchairs, walkers, and children approaching her from all sides without any problems. I have to admit that she was more interested in the other dogs there than the children, but she is getting the idea.
There are so many new experiences for her in these visits – being around children, the chance to be away from her more dominant brother, longer rides in the car, rides on elevators, the chance to spend time one-on-one with me. And meeting dogs, dogs, and more dogs of every size, breed, and description.
Two days ago we attended a spring safety event at one of our state university campuses. College kids were just the right size for Bess. I was amazed how quickly she fell into the behavior I expected from her. For once, she didn’t jump on anyone new. And, halfway through the visit, pizzas were delivered for the students to snack on. Needless to say, no pizza crust went to waste, thanks to the 6 dogs in attendance.
Last night we successfully completed our 3rd and final observation at Shriners Hospital for Children here in Greenville. We visited about 20 patient rooms. Dogs climbed up on chairs to be near tiny patients; one or two immediately jumped up on the beds in order to be within petting distance. Bess, however, preferred the child who followed us in a wheelchair, especially after she found that he was supplied with a stash of Teddy Grahams. I learned the hard way that I will need to wear lace-up walking shoes from now on. Bess was so enthusiastic that she nearly pulled me out of my comfortable slip-ons. I envisioned myself flying around the halls of the hospital like a kite, pulled by a big blonde Labradoodle who seemed to take very little notice of the human attached to the other end of her leash.
I’ve noticed Bess go into the closet off my office several times today, to see if her special leash and collar for Therapy Dogs are still hanging there. They are right where we can both keep an eye on them and, as soon as our credentials come to us from the national office, we’ll be using them to make more visits.
And, in the meantime, I’m going to get some private training lessons with Harry. He is so empathetic and so smart that I know he needs to experience this, too.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Back to the Future
When I started this blog last year, I did so in hopes of writing my way into better health, along with changes in diet and exercise. Ironically ,last year was probably the worst year of my life, healthwise.
I developed a sinus infection on my right side in April that just wouldn’t clear up but didn’t make me as sick as I had been with past infections. The worst thing about it was the awful odor I sensed each time I sneezed or blew my nose. “Blowing” my nose was not really a term that applied during this year at all; I could only blow through one nostril until Christmas. The odor was unlike anything I had experienced in a long history of sinus problems.
I am allergic to penicillin and sulfa but was on and off multiple other antibiotics until July, when I developed pneumonia. At first I ran a low fever for two days so I waited to see if I was coming down with a virus. On the third day, I woke up too sick to know what I was doing or needed to do. It took me five more days to arrange to see my doctor and, during that time, I experienced blood sugars as low as the 30s. My primary care physician diagnosed pneumonia and I spent the next three weeks getting well enough to resume a modified normal schedule.
Just before the pneumonia presented itself, I called for an appointment with my ENT, in the belief that I might need sinus surgery to clear this thing up once and for all. He did not have an appointment open until late in September so I had over two months to wait.
In March, I started attending a medically supervised weight loss program as part of my new commitment to improved health. By the end of September, despite my sinus problems, I had lost approximately 50 pounds. I learned more about diabetes there then I had in the three years since I had been diagnosed. My blood sugar dropped dramatically, I was able to reduce insulin to less than a half of what I had been taking, and I was exercising regularly. I looked and felt great and was looking forward to finally getting weight under control. The 100 pounds I had yet to lose did not seem at all overwhelming.
When I saw my ENT in late September, he took cultures from my right maxillary sinus. The results showed that I had two strains of pseudomonas aeruginosa (the same bacterial infection that killed 20 year- old Brazilian model and Miss World finalist Mariana Bridi in January 2009). My research on the Internet showed me that I had been luckier than I could have been. Pneumonia triggered by pseudomonas can be fatal to diabetics in just a few days. My delay in getting to the doctor in July had been very risky.
I was told that all the antibiotics I had taken since April were not appropriate to fight the pseudomonas infection and I began several rounds of Cipro and Avelox. A CT scan showed an unidentified mass in my right maxillary sinus and I scheduled surgery for the first possible opportunity – Christmas Eve day.
As many people told me – the physician and physical trainer at the weight loss clinic, my pharmacist, and a good friend who had years of prostate problems in the 90s – Cipro wreaks havoc on blood sugar, your gastrointestinal system, and prevents exercise, due to its links to ruptured tendons. My weight and blood sugar began to climb steadily. All my exercise efforts ground to a halt. I craved sugar and carbs. I had to add multiple OTC medications and probiotics to manage the stomach problems. I ate yogurt daily until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
Surgery was extremely easy. I had had endoscopy before and knew that I would have no problems with it. However, as a cancer survivor, I was apprehensive about what type of mass had developed. In the recovery room, my ENT reported that he had removed an “impressive” fungus and bacteria ball that had calcified and totally blocked by sinuses on the right side. He also told me that the pseudomonas infection had not abated at all. He had removed the diseased tissue and hoped that a month more of Avelox and an antibiotic nasal spray would finish off it off.
It didn’t. I took two more weeks of Cipro and started using an antibiotic nasal wash. My weight continued to climb. However, the odor from my sinuses was finally gone, leaving me to wonder if it had been caused by the blockage rather than the infection.
Now, in mid-February almost a year later, I finally know that the pseudomonas is gone. I have been able to breathe out of both sides for over a month and dropped all the OTC meds two weeks after finishing all the oral antibiotics. I do tire quickly and need a nap many days. I am slow to begin to exercise again; it took so long to develop a pattern of exercise last year and now I am faced with starting over. In fact, “doing it all over again” seems to be my agenda for 2009 in breaking my body’s craving for sugar, lowering blood sugar, gradually shaving off weight, and even remembering to ride the exercise bicycle or walk ten minutes back and forth on the driveway.
Despite the events of the last year, I have had some real breakthroughs in understanding and planning for my better health. A year ago, I thought that living as a healthy person would solve all my problems. Now I understand the difference in living as a healthy diabetic and a healthy person. Diabetes will not disappear because I live the life I should have in my earlier years. It will trigger negative episodes in managing my health in the future and I will have to start over again when it does.
Although it is still February, many of our trees and shrubs are beginning to bloom. By mid-March, spring will have arrived fully and I will feel that surge of energy and mental strength that comes with spending hours a day in the garden. A ten pound weight loss in the next few weeks will make it much easier for me to start seeds, move perennials, prepare planting boxes, and mow the grass. It will also get me down one size into the pants I was wearing in the pre-Cipro days late last summer. They are four sizes smaller than the ones I was wearing a year ago. How hard can ten pounds be?
I developed a sinus infection on my right side in April that just wouldn’t clear up but didn’t make me as sick as I had been with past infections. The worst thing about it was the awful odor I sensed each time I sneezed or blew my nose. “Blowing” my nose was not really a term that applied during this year at all; I could only blow through one nostril until Christmas. The odor was unlike anything I had experienced in a long history of sinus problems.
I am allergic to penicillin and sulfa but was on and off multiple other antibiotics until July, when I developed pneumonia. At first I ran a low fever for two days so I waited to see if I was coming down with a virus. On the third day, I woke up too sick to know what I was doing or needed to do. It took me five more days to arrange to see my doctor and, during that time, I experienced blood sugars as low as the 30s. My primary care physician diagnosed pneumonia and I spent the next three weeks getting well enough to resume a modified normal schedule.
Just before the pneumonia presented itself, I called for an appointment with my ENT, in the belief that I might need sinus surgery to clear this thing up once and for all. He did not have an appointment open until late in September so I had over two months to wait.
In March, I started attending a medically supervised weight loss program as part of my new commitment to improved health. By the end of September, despite my sinus problems, I had lost approximately 50 pounds. I learned more about diabetes there then I had in the three years since I had been diagnosed. My blood sugar dropped dramatically, I was able to reduce insulin to less than a half of what I had been taking, and I was exercising regularly. I looked and felt great and was looking forward to finally getting weight under control. The 100 pounds I had yet to lose did not seem at all overwhelming.
When I saw my ENT in late September, he took cultures from my right maxillary sinus. The results showed that I had two strains of pseudomonas aeruginosa (the same bacterial infection that killed 20 year- old Brazilian model and Miss World finalist Mariana Bridi in January 2009). My research on the Internet showed me that I had been luckier than I could have been. Pneumonia triggered by pseudomonas can be fatal to diabetics in just a few days. My delay in getting to the doctor in July had been very risky.
I was told that all the antibiotics I had taken since April were not appropriate to fight the pseudomonas infection and I began several rounds of Cipro and Avelox. A CT scan showed an unidentified mass in my right maxillary sinus and I scheduled surgery for the first possible opportunity – Christmas Eve day.
As many people told me – the physician and physical trainer at the weight loss clinic, my pharmacist, and a good friend who had years of prostate problems in the 90s – Cipro wreaks havoc on blood sugar, your gastrointestinal system, and prevents exercise, due to its links to ruptured tendons. My weight and blood sugar began to climb steadily. All my exercise efforts ground to a halt. I craved sugar and carbs. I had to add multiple OTC medications and probiotics to manage the stomach problems. I ate yogurt daily until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
Surgery was extremely easy. I had had endoscopy before and knew that I would have no problems with it. However, as a cancer survivor, I was apprehensive about what type of mass had developed. In the recovery room, my ENT reported that he had removed an “impressive” fungus and bacteria ball that had calcified and totally blocked by sinuses on the right side. He also told me that the pseudomonas infection had not abated at all. He had removed the diseased tissue and hoped that a month more of Avelox and an antibiotic nasal spray would finish off it off.
It didn’t. I took two more weeks of Cipro and started using an antibiotic nasal wash. My weight continued to climb. However, the odor from my sinuses was finally gone, leaving me to wonder if it had been caused by the blockage rather than the infection.
Now, in mid-February almost a year later, I finally know that the pseudomonas is gone. I have been able to breathe out of both sides for over a month and dropped all the OTC meds two weeks after finishing all the oral antibiotics. I do tire quickly and need a nap many days. I am slow to begin to exercise again; it took so long to develop a pattern of exercise last year and now I am faced with starting over. In fact, “doing it all over again” seems to be my agenda for 2009 in breaking my body’s craving for sugar, lowering blood sugar, gradually shaving off weight, and even remembering to ride the exercise bicycle or walk ten minutes back and forth on the driveway.
Despite the events of the last year, I have had some real breakthroughs in understanding and planning for my better health. A year ago, I thought that living as a healthy person would solve all my problems. Now I understand the difference in living as a healthy diabetic and a healthy person. Diabetes will not disappear because I live the life I should have in my earlier years. It will trigger negative episodes in managing my health in the future and I will have to start over again when it does.
Although it is still February, many of our trees and shrubs are beginning to bloom. By mid-March, spring will have arrived fully and I will feel that surge of energy and mental strength that comes with spending hours a day in the garden. A ten pound weight loss in the next few weeks will make it much easier for me to start seeds, move perennials, prepare planting boxes, and mow the grass. It will also get me down one size into the pants I was wearing in the pre-Cipro days late last summer. They are four sizes smaller than the ones I was wearing a year ago. How hard can ten pounds be?
Friday, October 10, 2008
I Remember
Writing exercise 2
I remember standing in a forest for the first time in my life. We are on a family camping trip off the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina. We drive several miles to an overlook that gives a view only of mountains and sky. The world is a bigger place than I have ever known. And it is more beautiful than I have ever seen.
A trail runs from the overlook to a waterfall a mile or so away. We enter the path through balsam giants and I am in a place unlike any I have ever seen. I smell and taste the sharpness in the air, my palette rich with pine and wood and earth and clean. The reverence of the silence is overwhelming. A carpet of generations of fallen balsam needles mixed with the sweet decay of fallen twigs and branches softens every step I take. Trees are around me and above me and I am wrapped in peacefulness and the protection of greens and browns and blues.
My father continues down the path, but no waterfall can lure from this place. I want to be alone for as long as I can; I am entirely alone no matter who is with me. All needs are met here and suddenly I understand the meaning of sanctuary. Leave me here – let me worship in this moment for the rest of my life.
I remember standing in a forest for the first time in my life. We are on a family camping trip off the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina. We drive several miles to an overlook that gives a view only of mountains and sky. The world is a bigger place than I have ever known. And it is more beautiful than I have ever seen.
A trail runs from the overlook to a waterfall a mile or so away. We enter the path through balsam giants and I am in a place unlike any I have ever seen. I smell and taste the sharpness in the air, my palette rich with pine and wood and earth and clean. The reverence of the silence is overwhelming. A carpet of generations of fallen balsam needles mixed with the sweet decay of fallen twigs and branches softens every step I take. Trees are around me and above me and I am wrapped in peacefulness and the protection of greens and browns and blues.
My father continues down the path, but no waterfall can lure from this place. I want to be alone for as long as I can; I am entirely alone no matter who is with me. All needs are met here and suddenly I understand the meaning of sanctuary. Leave me here – let me worship in this moment for the rest of my life.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Exercises
I'm starting a series of new writing exercises from Old Friend From Far Away: The Practice of Writing Memoir by Natalie Goldberg. The first topic is "I am watching..."
I am watching the night closing in, at darkness spreading from the ground up. The tops of the trees are outlined against a deepening gray sky. This is my favorite time to be out alone.
I’ve never been afraid of the dark and, even as a child, would be out alone as late as my parents would allow me. Once my children came along, I loved to get the kids to bed and take the dog for a walk in the neighborhood. One night a car with New York tags pulled up beside me; the man driving the car leaned back out of the way so his wife could stare at me from the passenger side. “Aren’t you afraid?” she asked. I laughed and said no, that I walked every night at this time. It was obvious that they were looking for a house in the area and their NY tags said all I needed to know. I wouldn’t walk alone in the dark there, either.
Now, I limit my excursions in the dark to tracking down a sleepy dog at bedtime. Bess loves the night as I do and, on her last trip outside, frequently falls asleep at the front of the yard. I pick my way through the shrubs and trees, gently shake her awake, and follow her back to the house.
Perhaps I should put her in the car just as the sun sinks out of sight and take her to a flat place for a walk that would fill both of our needs for some nightly solitude. I am willing to make a concession to my failing knees; streetlights and a level sidewalk would be welcome. I won’t even talk to her as I normally do when we walk together. We’ll just pretend the leash between us doesn’t really exist and imagine ourselves as two completely independent wanderers in the night. I wonder if either of us would be afraid, away from our own turf and our familiar sounds. Would we still be comfortable without the companionship of my husband and Bess’ bigger brother?
Maybe I’ll settle for sitting on the benches in the yard in the dark while she sleeps nearby. Maybe she’ll even join me and we can welcome the peace of the night together.
I am watching the night closing in, at darkness spreading from the ground up. The tops of the trees are outlined against a deepening gray sky. This is my favorite time to be out alone.
I’ve never been afraid of the dark and, even as a child, would be out alone as late as my parents would allow me. Once my children came along, I loved to get the kids to bed and take the dog for a walk in the neighborhood. One night a car with New York tags pulled up beside me; the man driving the car leaned back out of the way so his wife could stare at me from the passenger side. “Aren’t you afraid?” she asked. I laughed and said no, that I walked every night at this time. It was obvious that they were looking for a house in the area and their NY tags said all I needed to know. I wouldn’t walk alone in the dark there, either.
Now, I limit my excursions in the dark to tracking down a sleepy dog at bedtime. Bess loves the night as I do and, on her last trip outside, frequently falls asleep at the front of the yard. I pick my way through the shrubs and trees, gently shake her awake, and follow her back to the house.
Perhaps I should put her in the car just as the sun sinks out of sight and take her to a flat place for a walk that would fill both of our needs for some nightly solitude. I am willing to make a concession to my failing knees; streetlights and a level sidewalk would be welcome. I won’t even talk to her as I normally do when we walk together. We’ll just pretend the leash between us doesn’t really exist and imagine ourselves as two completely independent wanderers in the night. I wonder if either of us would be afraid, away from our own turf and our familiar sounds. Would we still be comfortable without the companionship of my husband and Bess’ bigger brother?
Maybe I’ll settle for sitting on the benches in the yard in the dark while she sleeps nearby. Maybe she’ll even join me and we can welcome the peace of the night together.
Lunch List
For several years, I've kept a list of people I would truly like to sit down and talk to over lunch. I think this stems from wanting to get a personal sense of them, not so much because they are celebrities or politicians. I've chosen not to explain who they are, even if they are known only regionally or locally. You might enjoy discovering them on your own.
You may also find some of these hard to accept. Please add your own comments. I would also like to know who you would secretly love to have lunch with if you could.
I will also add to this list, from time to time.
You may also find some of these hard to accept. Please add your own comments. I would also like to know who you would secretly love to have lunch with if you could.
I will also add to this list, from time to time.
Men who served with my father in WWII
Jimmy Carter
Tiger Woods
Queen Latifah
Gail King
Hillary Clinton
George and Laura Bush
Barack Obama
Whoopee Goldberg
Angela Lansbury
Rick Warren
Billy Graham
Mohammed Ali
Colin Powell
Natalie Goldberg
Clark Howard
Jeff Lindsey
Pat Conroy
Caroline Kennedy
Richard Riley
Bill and Melinda Gates
Amy Roloff
Bruce Springsteen
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