Paying Homage to the Inspiration

While we had been to Palm Springs before, we hadn’t spent much time walking into any stores so this time we put more effort into that, especially because we were spending the night. And that meant stopping at the Trina Turk flagship store. We have been to other stores, particularly two that are now shuttered (Manhattan Beach and South Pasadena), but we hadn’t been the the flagship store.

Many people don’t know that Trina Turk is a big inspiration behind Chelle Summer. I fell in love with Trina’s designs from the beginning. While I didn’t realize it, what I really fell in love with were the colors and the patterns. In fact, when Greg and I married, she had towels and sheets at Macys, too, and we registered for those. I am happy to report that if you come stay at my house, you are most likely to sleep between Trina sheets and dry off after a bathing with a Trina towel. But my closet is filled with dresses and I wore a lot of her swimwear before I was making my own.

Most people think I am heavily influenced by Kate Spade and I am, to a point, but Trina is a bigger inspiration for me, probably because of the California cool that her designs exude. I like to think of Chelle Summer as a bit Trina, a bit Kate, and a sprinkle of Lilly Pulitzer.

It was in this process of admiring her things that I began to come up with my own ideas. Certain styles of clothing didn’t always work for me and I had other ideas for prints. As my own work as continues to evolve, I can see where the inspiration started, but now it’s all mine and continues to move forward that way.

Stopping in the Palm Springs store was of acknowledging how far I have come with Chelle Summer. And while I still have a long way to go where I want it to be, it’s always good to reflect on where we’ve come from.

Thank you, Trina, for all the inspiration. I wouldn’t be where I am without it.

La Palma Dresses 101

Learn more about the inspiration behind the La Palma dresses and the different ways you can wear them.

Being True

I believe this to be one of the most challenging aspects of life– being true to oneself.

I have watched so many people throughout my life and witnessed their disappointment and sometimes anger at how things have turned out for them. I learned early (although I’m not sure how) that it was going to be a difficult road if I wanted to be who I believe I was supposed to be (and still do). I saw that it meant I wouldn’t always fit in and when things would happen, like when I wasn’t included in things, it was painful and often took years before I understood– having been able to take steps backward by then to survey the entire scene– that it was because I was different, I had a different road to walk, I had different things to accomplish.

There have been many things I could have done to make this road more like everyone else’s, dreams I could have sacrificed, but somehow I understood that wouldn’t be me.

I have been struggling with this new decade I have entered, not for the reasons I see other people struggle with it– mine is because I’ve had so much loss especially in the past two years (not to COVID– everyone has died from other illnesses and some from natural causes). I feel this sense that life is even shorter than it felt before. And there are things that have always motivated and inspired me that are now gone, things that had been with me for a long time, people who were important to me.

I am still motivated and inspired, don’t get me wrong, there aren’t enough hours in the day for all I want to do which is the other side of this dilemma I face– hitting this new decade and figuring out what’s most important to do and how to spend my time.

While I look at what doesn’t fit anymore, it’s also about making sure I stay true to who I am, have always wanted to be. When I’m out running early in the morning, it’s when I think about it the most because I’m usually in prayer (and trying to kill time while getting those miles in). By the time I finish, the list is long and the sun is shining in my office with the summer light giving an extra boost to the color that surrounds me.

I know I’m true to myself then and I use those moments to soak up the positive energy to keep me fulfilled for the continued journey.

Searching for Hope

It felt like a bit of a stabbing pain.

After the shooting at the elementary school in Texas last week, people began to post a list of the all the schools where there had been shootings in the past nearly thirty years. I scrolled down the list and saw the school where Greg teaches– Cleveland High School.

It was not a pleasant reminder of that day, of the kid who brought a gun to school and shot it a floor below Greg’s classroom, of everything else that transpired that day and has since then. And then on the same day as the shooting in Texas, likely before that shooting, a kid brought a gun to school at Cleveland. Another kid spotted the gun in the kid’s backpack, asked to be excused to the bathroom, and went and found help. The kid and the gun were dealt with quickly and quietly.

The following morning, I tried to post on Facebook and wrote at least five posts, but none of them felt right, deleting them all. Nothing felt right. In my head, the words felt meaningful, but looking at them as a post, they felt meaningless. I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t stop thinking about and everything that irritates me and makes me angry, things I am usually able to at least keep at a distance so I can forge forward. Things I mostly only share with Greg and my sister and a few others in my life, things I do not post because I don’t think it’s worth it. If one of my posts makes me feel bad, why am I a sharing it? What’s the point of that? If I need to feel better, then many others probably need inspiration, too.

We can all be negative but I’m not giving in. I’m that person hitting negativity with one of those big inflatable bats, letting it know its not welcome in my world, that I refuse to let it overcome me.

It finally occurred to me that I was grieving. Another loss. Another loss of so many things. Another loss that makes me feel less secure in this world, that makes me worry more about Greg at school than driving the interstate to school.

Yet we can’t stop living and I finally pushed my way back into my work that day, feeling a little better by day’s end. But I didn’t really feel better until I had a party yesterday– bringing people to gather for food and conversation, to enjoy the warmth of the sunshine (and ignore the wind).

It’s hard when it keeps coming at us, when we feel helpless, when we are in those moments where we don’t feel like we can make meaningful change. And yet there is hope somewhere in it– it’s inside us. It’s hard to find it outside us because we must start inside.

If only we all could find it.

"Route 66 Dreams" Inspiration

The Quarter

I used to post all the times I would find a coin, especially because it seemed to happen quite often. People also told me it made them happy because they understood that for those of us who have lost loved ones, those coins are, well, pennies from heaven.

It doesn’t happen too often anymore– I’m not blaming the pandemic on this one so much (because I still ran everyday during it) as I felt a drop off because my life had changed. I felt as if I didn’t find the coins because I didn’t need those near constant reminders than my deceased loved ones are with me. I chalked it up to moving forward, a good thing.

When we go to mass, I always light at candle for Our Lady of Guadalupe. As the priest I do my spiritual direction will say, God speaks through her to me, perhaps because I don’t always hear God. But I also feel very connected to her as my birthday falls on her feast day.

There are many times I stand in front of the painting of her and I talk to her about my creative endeavors. I don’t want to reveal the specifics right now as that’s between her and I, but I have felt like there was a bit of a gorge in one aspect of where I’m at and where I want to be.

Sunday morning was very windy, after an even windier night, and I didn’t particularly want to go out and run so much as I knew no one else would be out (only those of us who are die hards). As I ran along with Ash, I felt my answer from Guadalupe (or was it God?). I found what I needed, what was missing, what I needed to specifically ask for. While I’m not sure how to exactly tap into what I need, I do know now what it is that I’m seeking.

Not long after that I spotted a quarter.

It was worth it to grin and bear it through the wind. Prayer is often empty but this was a morning when I felt an answer from the a prayer of the day before. It doesn’t happen often so when it does, it’s an inspirational reminder that hope and faith are where it’s at.

Building Blocks

Autobiographies have always been my thing. At the core of what motivates me, you’ll find it’s figuring out what inspires others. This was part of the basis behind writing my newest book, Route 66 Dreams– in searching through the depths of figuring out who I am, I wondered how I arrived at the place I’m at. More specifically, what has motivated me to get here and what motivates me to keep going?

Last week, I mentioned that between my arriving at a new decade and effects of the pandemic, I’m finding some of those motivations and inspirations have changed. I still feel like I’m standing in a hallway of doors that have closed and waiting on some to still open (a few have opened, a few have cracked open leaving me hopeful, but not always sure what’s coming). I know that it’s up to me to open to new inspirations and motivations, yet I am still aware that it can take time to see them or become aware of them.

There is something else, however, that I’ve always understood from my own life experiences and reading those of others– we often look at someone and say, “Wow, look at all they accomplished!” But we also often don’t look close enough to see the places in their lives where– and I don’t want to use the word “failed” but instead say “things didn’t work out as planned.” While we are motivated when good things happen (it’s almost a relief for me to feel the movement under my feet, like standing on a surfboard and finally hitting the wave just right to ride it to shore). Yet sometimes the bigger motivation for us is when things don’t work out, when bad things happen, when life changes course in a way that we didn’t want or embrace. Yet it’s the way that led us to something bigger, to seeing we were capable of much more than maybe we even dreamed.

We must take time the time– and energy!– to be reflective. Yes, there is pain in reaching back to some things, maybe some things we thought we had pushed the door closed on, and yet maybe there’s still something to learn from them before we push them closed for good.

I was out running one morning last week when it occurred to me that things had changed, that I was going to have to forge a new way forward. And yet in that searching, I realized that there is a little side road through my past I need to take. I’m not really sure why, but I do know it’s one that keeps lingering, like where old Route 66 runs alongside the interstate. I’m hopeful that taking this journey another time will be a huge step forward.

Finding Balance

I have been feeling a bit overwhelmed lately. I have this sense that some days I feel pretty good, like I can move through the day and my tasks with ease, but other days I find things to be a bit more of a struggle. Then it occurred to me that it’s because my stamina for being out in the world, for being social, for being out of my head, for not having so much time to be creative (which means in my head!), is not there. I did quite have quite a lot of human engagement in the height of the pandemic thanks to my outdoor activities (my block, my neighborhood community that I would see on my runs), but what I didn’t have were the social activities and as those have increased (thank goodness!), it feels like running a race and building my strength back up.

I am grateful that things are moving forward, that people want to spend time with me, to talk to me. But I’m also finding I need to find balance in that time “in the world” with the time “in my head.”

There is no past to return to– everything has changed– and in that change, I also turned a new decade. I am learning that I can’t say, “Oh, I need to go back to my old routine” as that routine is gone because so much about me has changed in the past two years. I can’t say I like all the changes– at least the ones forced on me!– but I also see good changes about making my life more what I want it to be.

I know that all our journeys through this are unique, as we are unique people, but we all have to find a way forward somehow. Despite everything that keeps happening, I am still hopeful. I just have to make sure that I take care of myself, that I continue to find my way forward, because life is too short to be stuck in one place.

Under Construction

This month's video is about how we're all under construction– despite how things often look here on social media. Plus a sneak peek at a few new bags I'll have at the open house on Sunday!

Harnessing Fear

It has taken me a long time to make friends with fear. And I admit there are some days that I really struggle with it.

I don’t know what has created the fears I have of a variety of things. I do know that somewhere I along my life path I had to learn to embrace it because it wasn’t going anywhere. Probably what helped me the most was running competitively because it was there that I had to learn to push myself. This didn’t always go so well, however, I can say that I learned so many of the skills that I parlayed into everything else I have accomplished.

After all, we need to skills that we build– much like building blocks– to get better, to learn, to move forward. We have to start somewhere and then we keep adding, the blocks getting higher, not making a hard wall to climb but making a wall of skills we can use.

The caveat in all this is that it’s so easy to let fear get the best of us. Believe me, I know this well. And it’s the disappointment– repeated many times– that finally taught me I didn’t want to feel that way again. But that also meant I had to teach myself how to overcome it.

Self talk, taking little steps, setting small goals, were all part of embracing fear. And reminding myself that if we break it down, fear is simply not knowing what’s going to happen.

While for multiple reasons I can’t surf at this point in my life (although I am hopeful I will be able to again), surfing taught me a lot about forging past fear. The first time I got on a surfboard was one of the most intimidating things had done. After all, me of all people surfing? But I did it. I was never very good at it but I kept trying, kept reminding myself to be respectful of Mother Nature or she’ll teach you a lesson (she taught me a significant one once when I allowed the wave to get between my surfboard and me and the board walloped me in the face).

Even though I can’t surf now, I use what surfing taught me to do other things in my life as I build Chelle Summer, as I write more books and market them, wanting people to read them and enjoy them. We all have fear, but the key is, how can we use it to help us go forward?

Easter Renewal

As mass started yesterday morning– Easter Sunday– I didn’t feel my usual excitement about Easter. Even last year when it felt like everyone was wearing black (we all know I wasn’t!), I had that sense of renewal inside me and I wasn’t going to be swayed by the lack of hope of so many people. It wasn’t that I felt bad yesterday, I just didn’t feel the excitement I usually do on Easter morning, the times when the joyful music stays in my head long after I’ve left mass.

I admit this was my fault. I had been so caught up in finishing my book Route 66 Dreams when Ash Wednesday rolled around that my Lenten plans never got off the ground. I was ready to move onto a new book, to use that time to focus on a story that is partially finished, but I had to remain with the prior story and then I was too exhausted for several weeks to get my head wrapped around the “new” story.

However, as we traveled through the Easter mass yesterday, it was Fr. Steve’s homily that resonated with me. In particular, when he said–

“People are suffering and there seems to be nothing we can do about it. But God is mysteriously at work. We might not be able to make sense of it all, but God is doing something more wonderful than we can imagine. In due time, it will all be revealed. So, we live with hope, and we do what we can to alleviate the distress around us.”

That was what I needed. I don’t know that I realized it, but after he spoke it, I felt as if a weight, the weight of worry I’ve had for so many things– in my world and beyond– dissipate.

We all need Easter Sunday. While it might mean different things in different faiths, we all need to take a step back, to be reminded to let go, to have faith, to continue to pray and, mostly, hope.

Easter should be a day to refresh oneself for the journey. It was the end of the Lenten journey– however that looked for each of us– and start of a new journey. It’s as if we took a day to stop, to rest, to feel the warm sun on our faces or warmth of people around us, to smell the flowers, enjoy the colored eggs, eat a tasty piece of cake.

Now we have the strength to go forward and continue to believe.

Weathering Change

Change is my friend; I tell myself this constantly andI have always tried to embrace it.

When I was a freshman in high school, I remember my then-cross country coach saying that if you wanted to run well, you were going to have to learn to be uncomfortable. You couldn’t sit back and relax the pace because that wouldn’t make you better, help you run faster, achieve your goals. You had to embrace the discomfort when your body wants to stop, when your mind doesn’t want to think about running more laps.

Life is much the same way– we can be content but usually during that time of content we won’t be forging forward, we’ll be standing place.

Last week my routine changed as I left the “winter pool” (as I call the gym) for my “summer pool” (my pool at home). It’s always time for me to switch at this time when the water that felt so good outdoors all winter gets too warm, the number of people swells, and I know the dogs miss our routine of me swimming, them running around the pool.

But the wind hasn’t been my friend in the last week, keeping me from getting in my pool (I won’t reveal the temperature of the pool, but I’ll say it’s just a tad too cold for me). I had a harder time writing last week and it was like I was reweaving my routine, but not quite getting it the way I want it or the way it will work.

I'm hoping to be in my pool by the end of this week after another storm (that is only going to bring us wind here in Albuquerque) comes through. I’m trying to be patient with myself, to remember that being uncomfortable is good. It means I am forging forward. In one sense, it’s opening new doors and closing others. It doesn’t make it easy but it’s a good reminder that life isn’t stagnant and we shouldn’t be either. Our time here is too short to stand still.

Where Peace Resides

It’s hard to find peace within ourselves for one major reason– we have come to expect everything to happen instantly.

Information and people in some sense are at our finger tips with our phones. We look for instant gratification from likes and loves on what we post on social media. We take pills to stop not just physical pain but emotional pain, too. So why would we want to be reflective? All we have to do is look elsewhere and we believe we get what we need.

But we don’t.

Believing we get everything instantly, leaves us feeling empty more often than it gives us peace. That instant gratification means we keep looking for more of it, like an addict or the easy consumption of things like sugar. Once we start, we can’t get off the merry-go round.

So we don’t.

We stay there and we become more miserable.

Yet, there’s an answer. We can take a step back, we can look around us, we can think before we speak or go look at our phones yet again. Heck, we could say a prayer asking for inner peace. And then go seek it by taking care of ourselves without our phones or needing anything from the outside world.

Happiness, peace, it’s all an inside job. Life is a constant journey of learning, but we have to be willing to take a step forward that’s actually a step backward to slow things down and look for ways that bring us a sense of calm inside us.

And if we don’t know what those ways are, stopping and looking around will allow them to be heard within us and the more we take the time to reflect, the more we’ll know we can find it.

The Space Between

The 29th anniversary of my sister Denise’s suicide has passed and later this week is the eighth anniversary of my mom’s death. In the meantime, I sit between them.

My awareness of Denise’s suicide is different than of Mom’s death. The date Denise died is imprinted somewhere inside me, especially given it comes the day after St. Patrick’s Day– in the same way my Dad’s is because he died on January 1 (2006). I am aware that Mom died this coming week and I have some idea of the date but I’m never quite sure of it, I just know that it’s there.

We go forward– we don’t move on as I like that a fellow sibling survivor of suicide agreed on my Facebook on Friday, our deceased siblings are still with us and part of our lives. I have a great life and I don’t ever want people to feel sorry for me. My mom and my sister remain with me and our lives together are part of the inspiration of all that I do.

Yet I am still aware of these days and these anniversaries– with their birthdays and my parents’ anniversary on the calendar ahead. I spend extra time remembering them at this time, mostly because of that awareness as they are not defined by their deaths but by the time we all had together in this life.

I didn’t feel sad on Friday, the day of Denise’s death, but I felt inspired. Maybe it was because the weather was warm, the clear sky bright. Maybe because I have much to look forward to and I was prepping for a dinner party the following night.

However, I had done that on purpose– invited a group of friends for dinner– because I knew that it would be good to turn the tables of what the day meant. Last year I found two great vintage patio chairs at an estate sale, perfect for my front porch, on March 18 and it was then that I began to realize I could turn around what the day means.

I sit between the anniversaries of their deaths right now, but I don’t sit here in sadness. My list is long, my inspiration remains high. And they are still with me.

Seeking Light

I was waking up in the middle of the night and somehow managed to turn my brain on each time and couldn’t turn it off. It was like the vintage vegetable juicer on my counter– the motor is so strong that you can toggle the switch off and unplug it, but it takes a while before it stops spinning.

I worried about anything and everything, But after I’d get up and and when I finally made it to my desk to start my work part of the day, I’d look around at the sunshine coming into my office through the windows and all the color and I’d think, “I feel good. Everything is okay.”

It was the darkness, I realized. The darkness was making me worry and it was my job to find the light around me, even in the darkness.

Then last week I was feeling exhausted from my long morning workout routine. Because we aren’t going away for spring break next week, a week I usually take off from running and swimming (we go for morning walks instead), I thought it was a good week not to go on my run. I ran the dogs and swam instead, using that extra time between to keep caught up on things around the house (why does the vacuum cleaner hose always go out when I have other things I want to do?).

After setting my clocks forward and going to bed extra early on Sunday night, I found myself ready for Monday. I believe that the extra rest last week prepared me for the time change this week.

I see a lot of struggle around me for so many reasons as our world continues to shift and change. We’re want things to even out, we want to rest. And yet we can’t because we’re trying to make our way forward at the same time.

When we can’t take a big rest, find small change in your routine that will give you some rest. Sometimes just the change in routine is enough to help us find our energy again.

And when you are stuck in the darkness– feel like you’re in rut, stressed about everything, feeling like everything is depressing– find your light. What is it that makes you happy? What gives you energy? Sitting in the sun is a place to start and might be a way to get a little rest and find inspiration at the same time.

How I Finished Writing "Route 66 Dreams"

I don’t often talk about it, but when I was four years old, I had eye surgery to tighten the muscle in my right eye. The surgery went well, however, it turned out I was allergic to anesthesia and I have horrible memories of my hospital stay because I was miserable.

It took me a long time to realize how that experience, despite the fact that my maternal grandfather was a doctor and I was raised around medicine, left me fearful of hospitals.

Four years ago, I had surgery to remove my uterus because fibroids that had been removed once before came back. It was absolutely worth it, but for those three weeks prior to the surgery, I found myself more scared than I was willing to admit because of one thing– I had to spend the night in the hospital.

While I knew I’d be okay, I also had this fear I’d been carrying around with me for all these years and I was always proud of myself for managing not to have a hospital stay. Before the surgery though, I had to find some way to cope, some way to make the most of those three weeks rather than sitting around and dreaming up all the bad things that could happen.

First, I set to work and finished recovering the outdoor patio cushions I’d been working on. Then I realized I also needed to finish the manuscript I was writing– get the rough draft finished so I could put it away. I devoted more time to Route 66 Dreams in those three weeks and also to the research I needed to do at the library because it took place in 1986 (the 1986 newspapers weren’t available online and instead I had to take a trip to the university library and then one of the city libraries for the microfilm).

It wasn’t easy but I found it was a good way to train my brain. Instead of ruminating about my unfounded fears regarding surgery, I had to keep my head on the Danielson family road trip that I was writing about. When I showed up for surgery that June 1 morning, I had put them away for a while, giving myself distance from the manuscript while I also needed the time to recover from the surgery.

I was still scared, but at least I hadn’t spent three weeks staring at the ceiling, playing all the loops of what might happen. Instead, I learned a lot in that time while also facing one of my biggest fears. And I created something I’m proud to say is mine.

The Inspiration for "Route 66 Dreams"

We were a road trip family. My happiest memories were those trips in the family station wagon. Those were the memories we would reminisce about at Rascal’s, a restaurant we ate at on Christmas Eve in my hometown of Napervlle, IL. There was always some funny story or adventure to remember.

My dad took a trip on Route 66 with a friend in his convertible (he and his convertible are pictured above at a wedding- this one I believe before my parents knew each other) before my parents married. I don’t know that they went all the way to Los Angeles because I don’t remember conversations about LA. We do have photos and home movies he took of the hotels in Las Vegas, I believe where they must have gone instead before heading back to Chicago.

When my dad and I took the first trip to Albuquerque to sign me up for my graduate school classes and find an apartment to live, I remember how he turned the car off I-40 right when you drive into Albuquerque after the canyon, at Tramway. Central, as Route 66 is known here, is just a block away and we took it all the way through town. What I remember most are his comments that there were few motels left and instead mostly mobile home dealers.

We were a Holiday Inn family and it was a game that after we passed the billboard of our chosen location for that night, to see who could spot the familiar Holiday Inn sign.

These road trips laid the foundation for “Route 66 Dreams.” While we never drove west (most of our trips kept us east of the Mississippi), we did a lot of driving– there was always a new place to stay and a list of sites to peruse in each place we went. The Danielson family isn’t my family, Jana’s story isn’t mine beyond the dream of wanting to be a writer.

Instead, her story was born of me wondering how I found myself wanting to be a writer, of wondering what it might have been like if I’d had the same adventures she had, a father who was much more open than mine ever was. There are so many stories to tell and there are small pieces of me in this story (and things that I experienced) but mostly, it was about exploring something I had started to wonder…where are our dreams born?

For Jana, they were born on this trip and it’s this trip in her life that I’ve chosen to share with the backdrop of the nostalgic eighties (I do believe 1986 was the best year for music and maybe a reason I chose to center the book in that very year) and a family vacation.

A Reminder as Things Begin to Bloom Again

There is a myth, one I continue to hear thrown out there every December, that people are more likely to end their lives during the holiday season.

No no no. While depression might run more rampant during the holiday because of the disappointment with relationships, sadness over loss, or a variety of other reasons, digging into the numbers, one would see that more suicides happen in March than any other time of year.

March– when things start to bloom, when we get teased with warmer weather, when spring break usually takes place. Yes, that March. My tulips are beginning to sprout and this morning it felt much lighter than it has as I began my swim at 6:30.

For most of us, March is a time of hope and renewal; we begin to feel a surge of energy after the dark and cold of winter.

But for some people, including my sister who died 29 years ago this March, I quickly understood that while I saw hope in things blooming, for her it meant the pain of watching things bloom while her own pain felt inescapable.

Take a step back this month– many aspects of our lives are opening up (while we all step tentatively into them, afraid we might lose them again), but there is still much pain around us. That pain is exaggerated by the site of things turning green and then the first flowers beginning to bloom. As many people feel renewal from getting to switch out the winter coat to a spring one, many others can’t get there.

Check on your own mental wellness this month; make sure you’re doing okay. If you’re not, what can you do to help yourself? And check on those around you and whom you care about. Our pain doesn’t all look or feel the same. If something looks out of place to you, it probably is.

There is hope but sometimes people need a little help finding the color in the tulips and the lighter days.

The Olympics

I suppose it was just as well I was out of the room when they exintinguished the torch on the taped version of the closing ceremonies last night. My hope is that in two years, in time for the next games (summer), things will be different in a better way.

My sister Karen, Greg, and I all lamented how we weren’t excited for the Olympics a few weeks ago. I can’t speak for Greg, but for Karen and I, the games were a big deal in our family. I can recall all of us gathered in front of the tv to watch bobsled and figure skating in 1980 at Lake Placid and then track in the summer of 1984 in Los Angeles.

For the past year or so, I’ve been spending more time tracing back in my life where my dreams were born and what inspires me. In a major way, it has been the Olympics. It’s where my unfulfilled running dreams were born, but those dreams taught me about goal setting, dreaming big, working hard, and the idea that we can achieve something we set out to do (although my case it was a long list of things outside of running competitively, but I don’t believe I would have accomplished any of it without dreaming about winning that goal medal in track).

Denise and I watched a lot of Olympics together and in the late 1980s when Mom worked for Midway Airlines, she took us to Colorado Springs to see the United States Olympic Training Center, a place I would spend the summer working as an intern at USA Boxing the summer of 1993, just months after Denise’ suicide.

That summer put me in the thick of our athletes, especially in the cafeteria where we all ate (Bonnie Blair sat behind me one day). I worked the 1996 Atlanta summer games and in 2002, I carried the torch here in Albuquerque as the flame made its way to Salt Lake City.

The Olympic games are a part of the fabric that I continue to weave and call my life. I am saddened by a whole slew of things that have happened, of knowing how many people aren’t excited by them (we found ourselves getting more into them as the eighteen days wore on), and I hope that the changes that need to be made can be made to make them stronger and change them as our society has changed much in recently years. We are in a reckoning with so much and the Olympics are no exception.

Probably what saddened me the most though, was the comment in an article about how much NBC paid for the games, saying how they one had been something that brought us together. That wasn’t the case at all this year, like so many other things.

Still, I hope that in 2024, the rings that have been separated will be glued together stronger than ever. After all, how many other dreams were born through the Olympics besides mine? I hate to imagine life without something that has made such a difference for so many of us.

February Video

Meet my February video! Some fun things and how I tie everything I do together into Chelle Summer.