A white screen stares back at me as I struggle to find the words for this next story. It's long overdue and I'm stuck, overwhelmed by my own emotion. I remember Kelly, a little girl I used to babysit for. She had the sweetest giggle and was the Queen of Silly. If I let myself, I can still see her, rolling around on the floor with her legs up in the air, laughing uncontrollably. We spent many afternoons together reading stories, eating popcorn and just making each other laugh. I was very close to her and her family. We were a big part of each others' lives. Sadly, however, Kelly was plagued with numerous and very serious medical problems. We lost Kelly when she was only 10. I was a teen in turmoil trying to make sense of a world that, to me, was already off kilter. Seeing Kelly's bright smile in a portrait placed atop her little casket forever changed my life. I learned that life isn't fair and that some very terrible things can happen to some very good people. I learned that sickness and death have no mercy, not even for children. Words like this seem unproductive, but in my world, it's the harsh reality of an unfair truth. That having been said, I have a tremendous amount of respect and admiration for people afflicted with disease, as well as their families and caretakers whose lives are affected on a daily basis by disease and illness. It takes a lot of courage and strength just to keep on keeping on...to find joy and happiness in life's little wonders and in the smallest of accomplishments. Perhaps this is why I was drawn to Rick Jewell and his daughter, Rylee.

I remember as a small child sitting at my grandmother's table with a bowl of Chef Boyardee, a tall glass of milk and a sleeve of Oreo cookies laid out before me. Hanging on her every word, I watched intensely as my grandma crouched and crept around the kitchen table with a dishrag draped over her head, acting out the parts and narrating the story of Little Red Riding Hood. When she finally got to the "big teeth, better to eat you with" part, my cookies were gone and I was terrified…nearly to tears! If my grandmother had been an actress, she most certainly would have won an Oscar that day for her performance. It's no wonder, then, that as an adult I am a little uneasy around large dogs, German Shepherds in particular. However, I recently had the opportunity to visit the Fidelco Guide Dog Foundation's Open House event and have since gained new insight on these amazing canines.
Erika Deady-Wohlers makes and sells tutus. She is not a seamstress nor is she a ballerina. Rather she is an ever-grateful and loving mother of two with a burning desire to give back to those who have helped her and to those who need help. Erika is a “what you see is what you get kind of person". She is smart, attractive and down to earth. She lives in the country with her husband Nick and
I spent this past summer as a volunteer at the New Hampshire Food Bank in Manchester, New Hampshire. This opportunity came about courtesy of the economy. In May, the company I worked for had a reduction in work force, and, along with many others, I lost my job. I went home numb, in shock that this had happened to me. First reaction: I had to get a job, as quickly as possible, to pay the bills and get back into the work force. For several days, that was my sole focus, looking for work, notifying my contacts, searching for job openings. At the end of each search, I came away drained, frustrated and angry, wondering if I’d ever get another job. This searching ate at me constantly, and worse, was spilling over into my everyday life. 


