I watched my pre-recorded Finding Sarah: From Royalty to Reality last night and all I could voice over and over, was “Poor, poor Sarah.”  My second thought is “Wow, think of all the people that will relate to her.”

Raw, vulnerable footage displays a picturesque Princess brought down to her worst nightmare… the enemy of self.  Although it boggles me as to how deeply rooted her DNA exposes itself as self-hatred, it frustrates me more that millions will be able to resonate with her and her struggles. Oh yea, I’m frustrated, and if you read the end, my rage carries through…

Where did Sarah say it all stemmed from?  Her adolescence.  12 to be exact.  The age her Mother left her… the age a scar was tattooed on her heart, the year she stuffed all sadness, anxiety, lack of trust and childhood deep within her cells, never to be heard of again until now.

It amazes me how many people will go through life lacking in self-worth only to unconsciously think it’s okay to pass down to their daughters.  What bothers me if even though I love what Sarah Ferguson is all about as she details her every step in self-discovery, I can’t help but want to reach across the TV screen, grab both her shoulders and shake her until she listens to me. Yes me!  I’m no professional counselor (although I’ve been known to help put pieces back together on the occasional broken hearted), but I am an expert when it comes to girls and their self-worth.

Sarah may think that her girls have slid by on her damaged DNA, but I can tell you it’s unlikely they will.  It is undeniable a Mother as broken as Sarah can raise two perfectly healthy, confident young ladies without her toxic leakage spilling over and onto her girls.  I hope in future episodes, Dr. Phil will stop Sarah in her tracks when she dicusses her natural tendencies to belittle herself in front of her daughters and tell her that no matter how confident she thinks her girls are NOW, it is crucial she change her language now, even if she doesn’t believe it… yet.

So if I may re-iterate the thoughts that have been percolating up to near explosiveness…

Moms – Keep. Your.  Mouths.  Shut! I mean c’mon!

I don’t care how confident you think little Jenny is when she’s only 10 years old, has a body of ladder, perfect skin and everything in her life is peachy as she looks forward to playing with dolls.

It doesn’t matter if you are putting yourself down and not her.

What matters is the person she looks up to, the mirror image of her someday is belittling themselves in front of her.  And one day, 10 year old Jenny is going to grow up, become Jen, with a curvy body, breakouts, braces, hormones, and suddenly Jen’s  image will morph its way into the adult face of her mother looking back at her in the mirror.  She’ll have adult issues and burdens, she’ll see the same things her mother saw.

She will have a bad day and label herself the same way her mother did and because the label has been stamped with her Mother’s inheritance, it will ring all the more true to her, that she is what her mother is.  Worthless.

Moms.  Keep quiet.  Keep your silly negative thoughts about you, about anyone to yourself. Keep our girls minds innocent, because Lord knows they will have time to fill it with their own chatter. Why add to their heat.

Sarah, I will continue to watch and cheer you on through your journey. If anything you will be a role model to the millions who resonate with you.

It’s no secret I’ve been holding an internet affair with 5 women for quite some time now.  Five of the most inspiring, “make you feel good all over” women from various parts of the U.S.

Our online affair began over 2 years ago in pursuit to find a deep connection for what we held in common.  A relationship that I cheated on right here in my own back yard and did what I preach to my girls not to do… indulge in internet relationships.

Our common link? Entrepreneurs.  Not just any entrepreneurs, but MOMpreneurs used to CEO’ing households… now turning tricks with our very own companies.

As the turn of Social Media hit an all time high some few years ago, so began our ongoing relationship in support of Women in business.  At first it started as a general thread of common-band, but slowly our support and network grew into a strong friendship, with more Facebook “likes” and ReTweets you can imagine.  Those ReTweets and Facebook follows eventually turned into email chats, skype calls and eventually phone chats bonding us closer and closer together with visions of a grand meeting someday.  Unfortunately with our own self-employed businesses, family, kids, lack of finances and good old fashioned life, it seemed like meeting would be ages away.

Alas we surrendered, and alas the manifesting began with a Universal pull much stronger than us, that decided different.

Our day of glory is finally arriving and as the Social Media guru in me screams “Oh Hail to the Mighty!”, I cannot help but share our amazing feat, devotion and calling to something greater.

Call it stroke of luck or Divine intervention, but out of a long list of possible mommy owned companies that could have come together, to support this benefit, our group was hand-picked, tweaked and fine tuned to miraculously bring only us… together.

MOMpreneurs unite for the very first time to support

STOP Child Trafficking Now.

Join us in supporting this MOMentous and charitable event June 28th, at the infamous Marquee Nightclub, located in New York City from 6-9pm.  For more information on ticket sales and V.I.P. treats, click Here.

BIG thanks to Desiree Frieson at Mahogany Communications, LLC. for her amazing and ongoing force behind bringing this powerful event together.  Mompreneurs include: Ros Guerrero, founder of Ficklets, Sheena Edwards, founder of Lizzie Lou Shoes, Roberta Wagner, founder of Carry Her, Leslie Haywood, founder of Grill Charms, Amy Sapirstein, founder of Mommy Mitten and me, Marianne Impal, founder of The Gift of Confidence by RaeCole.

Watch out NYC, here we come!!!

In highlight of ongoing struggles with bullying, eating disorders, depression and teen suicide just to name a few, it is nice to see Hollywood A-Listers taking a stand together in the solution to this multi-faceted virus infecting many teens today.   As I have written before in “Enough Blaming Media for your Purging Daughter”, it is true that much of what results in the eyes of a teen is reflected from behind closed doors.  What happens in the home… what’s communicated verbally, physically AND energetically is easily dispersed upon our progeny, knowing we can only control a slim portion of such; BUT to have Hollywood’s finest add their two cents into the mix, makes it all the better.

But then what?

Yes, bullying has been a problem for years, but now we suddenly have Social Media, Technology and Texting that has succumbed even the weakest link to find strength in bullying electronically and brought it to its full time high.  I’ve heard of Beer-Muscles, but now kids have to deal with Techno-Muscles?  Strength that one only finds from behind the comfort of technology?

I am not a bullying expert, although I have been known to passionately verbalize what I consider to be one small solution for at least the girls.  All I can say is, don’t wait till it’s too late!

Congrats To Ellen and her clan for putting this unified voice together.  It’s nice to know many celebs have had their share of bullying, not fitting in and awkwardness that molded them into the success they are today.  I think it was Mitch from Modern Family who explained to Manny after experiencing the same trauma: “… funny you spend most of your time in school just trying to fit in and when you are an adult, you make every effort to be different.”

After reading a recent article during a usual Sunday routine of extra strong WaWa in one hand and a morning paper in the other… I tend to leave my Parade articles for the last scrumptious dessert read after gobbling through mounds of local news and gazillion ads that add bad calories to my wallet instead of my hips.

This weeks highlight, Inside Your Teen’s Head, by Judith Newman. This of course would catch my attention as the last 3 plus years I have dedicated my days to researching such topics close to heart for the benefit of two growing girls and my growing desire to sometimes want to cash it all in when the surge of hormones flux between 3 women living in one household.  Just as we used to blame chocolate for corrupting our face with pimples, we can no longer blame only hormones for the slithering noodle-like, sleep deprived creature, who forgets even the basics of basic and turns emotions on and off  like a bad teen reality show.

Get this… so I knew about the whole Prefrontal Cortex thingy from Dr. Laura Berman, the renowned sex expert often highlighted on Oprah.  Those of you not familiar with this not so layman’s terms, the Prefrontal Cortex is located towards the front of the brain and as chief commander,it is in charge of consequences, planning ahead and weighing priorities.  A part of the brain said to not fully develop until we are well into our twenties. YES! TWENTIES!!!  Crazy, I know, but it’s true.  So when we see our teenagers uploading YouTube video’s of themselves after repeatedly telling them not to because of the “consequences”… you now know why.

Here’s the kicker… as if that doesn’t shock you enough, scientists have now proven in a recent study with kids and the occasional brain surges that happen from childhood to adulthood; there is yet a huge surge that happens right before puberty hits followed by a period of “pruning”.  This pruning is associated with our use-it or lose-it capabilities, where certain skills will continue to develop and others will fade into their hard drive.  Ellen Galinsky, president of the Families and Work Institute states, “The brain is very efficient, allowing you to become more adept at the life skills you’re going to use-which is why these are the years to set good work habits in place.”  Just writing this is already inspiring me for another article, so stay posted…

Anyone who knows me or what I believe in; this just confirms how much we need to teach our girls how to practice their self-worth.  Eventually with practice, comes the possibility of a positive self-image for our girls.

Oh, and can I just let you in on a little secret?  My slithery noodle-like teenager is peacefully snoring away on the couch behind me, missing school today.  Why?  I will let the school know she has physically exhausted herself after much pruning in the Prefrontal Cortex region.

A positive resource on how you can aid in the development of a girls body image, please visit our website at www.RaeCole.com for more information.

If memory serves me correctly (and please, correct me if I’m wrong), I was one of the many thousands of women who painstakingly auditioned for this experience of a lifetime back in June of ’09, so this review comes with deep understanding for the many women inventors out there.

As nervous as I was, I distinctly remember overlooking the casting call requirements as any OCD person like myself who wants to make a good impression would.  Unfortunately, those requirements have since ended up in the black hole of internet heaven never to be found again, so it is without proof do I ramble my own personal opinion of what was asked for and later produced.

A reality show dedicated in finding the perfect handful of women inventors and helping them manufacture, market and sell was the biggest draw for many if not all of the women who showed up for this event.

To my surprise out of the hundreds of women that lined the ballroom of one of NYC finest hotels, many of the products were already in place.  Here I was with my dinky little prototype of an invention, pieced and sewn together by hand and surrounded by women with patented inventions already manufactured, sold in stores and some even seen on TV!

What the…

After my 2 minutes of fame with the producer and actually winning the famous green ticket that puts you in the next round, he asked to see my prototype and continued to say it was exactly the type of invention they were looking for.  I said “That’s great, then let me ask you this,  I thought this casting call was for newer inventions only.  Ya know, people who want to make it in the real world.  Women that need help.  Why are there women who already “made it” here?”  He shrugged his shoulders and said they didn’t want to turn anyone down, so they opened it up to everyone.

Waving my “golden” green ticket in the air after exiting my interview, I was happy to forward to the next round, but couldn’t get over the fact that even though we all need a little extra help in the world, why couldn’t the women who already had functioning, patented and a history of sales for their inventions just give us newby’s some space to expand on our own?

After watching the first episode, it was clear they picked two women with working, manufactured products and one with a simple prototype.  I can go on and on about this, but where is the inspiration here?  Where in this show did we watch the journey of women take a product from idea to market?

In the end, they picked Marcy with her hairstyling cabby.  Great invention, yes, BUT the panel picks her because and I quote: “She’s ready to sell.”  Wait.  Didn’t you just claim and advertise this was going to be a show geared towards helping women through the process of manufacturing, marketing and selling?  You gave Tonya and her hot roller idea (great invention btw) a class on pitch and that’s your way of helping?  Shouldn’t the show be advertised simply as a contest of who has the best pitch and be done with it?

Fortunately, through this experience I have met the best inventor rejects in the world  and proud to be webbed along with such supporters like Womentorz, a fabulous network of women inventors that is more than a marketing service, but gives true one on one guidance that really does help take you from invention to market.

I still love ya Kel and I still have yet to do anything with my prototype and could use the help, so… if ,ya know, there’s no hard feelings.. my golden ticket was #50. 

Architects of Change, as Kris Ruby highlights in this years 2010 Women’s Conference: ” Smart, strong, capable and compassionate leaders who see a problem and seek to create the solution.”

Without putting a down low on the instrumental men in this world, it seems obvious to me as a woman just how influential our beautiful set of double X chromosomes play as huge parts in the strength, determination and ability to solve solutions for the greater part of our future.  Which brings up a recent conversation I had with a friend one day as we complained about our husbands fathering skills or lack there of and with the support of a WordPress by my side, allows me the honor in stating the below:

Men fix problems.

Women solve solutions.

The difference?

Guys, it’s okay.  You “tend” to fix things.  This is great for the here, the now.  You’ll be the first to dive into your problem fixing shed of equipment to find the right tool to tinker with.  To help a lady in distress or do whatever it takes to make your daughter feel good at the moment.  It was a man after all who invented the Band-Aid, right?  Ouch!, did I just say that?  Yes, Band-Aid.  The quick fix.

Lady’s.  We on the other hand solve solutions.  We don’t see a problem and think, “Hmmmm… how can I fix this now.”  We think “Hey, this is a problem and no matter what it takes, I’m gonna find the solution so it doesn’t happen again, and if I can’t find the solution, I will create one on my own!”  This my lady friends is called EMPOWERMENT and INNOVATION.  Taking charge of the problem,  looking it square in the eye, as we teeter out of the “norm” and create a solution; shooing problem away and wiping our hands clean of it, never to be seen again.  Leaders The Women’s Conference address, are not only about Women who make a difference, but Women who give themselves permission to be different.  Re-inventing themselves and contributing what they’ve learned with the world.

If I must share an intimate vision that occasionally pops into my already mindless chattered brain, is to someday share the stage with these Women.  What?  You don’t think I can?  Perhaps they will find my solution to a Healthy Body Image interesting.  Maybe a Mother/Daughter Yoga Empowerment Workshop?  Okay, maybe I will be in the audience, proudly standing tall as if to feel their presence and in my mind think I am actually sharing the stage.

Whatever the outcome, it is inventions and conferences like these setting the stage for more little XX Chromosomes of the future and leaders of the now.

As a owner and creator of The Gift Series by RaeCole™, it’s a no wonder why I am frequently inundated with parents, customers and the occasional woman at the salon who reveals way too much information on personal facets of her teen daughters life, stressing and blaming her misery on hormones.

If you’re a parent like me who believes in Positive Parenting, then you are also a parent who is probably overwhelmed with what you do on regular basis that will no doubt impact the life of your kids in a positive way.  I can only speak for myself with girls at the awkward ages of 11 and 13.  Ages that proudly project the blossoms of womanhood and surges of hormones on daily basis.

With all the hype on  New Age waves of Positive Parenting, comes a major guffaw in the system, and that is Parents who are Positive to begin with. What? But of course surely, a parent teaching positive behavior in their children would by far be role modeling such attitudes themselves, right?

Mmmm, not so much.

This is real easy to remember people so pay close attention!  Can you say ROLE MODEL?  Can you act like a ROLE MODEL?  Sounds childish… maybe, but role modeling is keeeeeey!  Why is it I continue to run into moms who say one thing to their child, but turn around and do the opposite.  Let me give you an example, going back to my WomanWhoGivesTooMuchInformationOnOverload in the salon:  Mother and Daughter getting their hair done at a local salon.  Daughter rants over the stringiness of her hair to the stylist, sits in the chair with shoulders rounding into the letter “C”.  She continues to berate the thighs she’s inherited by her Mother’s gene pool and how she wants thicker, longer hair to draw attention away from the natural curves puberty has given her. (okay I added that last bit of puberty, but it’s true!)  The stylist and the girls mom then begin to politely tell her how crazy she is like any adult would.  The Mom’s voice raises and insists her daughter shouldn’t talk like that about herself… how beautiful… how to be happy with what God gave her…. blah, blah, blah, BLAH!….. she should’ve stopped right there.  Unfortunately, nothing could keep her rattling mouth from spilling ajar again, as she turned the attention towards herself, only to belittle what has come over her body after having two kids, breastfeeding, not exercising anymore and blah, blah again.

I don’t get it.  Saying something positive and encouraging to your child is just part of the step.  That’s the EASY part if anything.  Hell, there’s lots more to it and unfortunately, the change has to come with YOU!  Us as parents.  We the village raising the new born crops.

Now you wanna talk body image?  I agree, I agree, I TOTALLY agree… media plays a HUGE part on the mindset of girls, totally screwing with their egos, metamorphosing their views in the mirror, but enough of the blame game.  I don’t think Media is going to be hiring size 8 models anytime soon and now that computer enhancement is at its prime, Airbrushing won’t be going extinct in this lifetime.

SO… what do we do?  We change the perception starting at home.  Oprah says we can’t blame the way our lives turn out by blaming what happened in our past… just like you can’t expect us to blame Media for the purging child in the high school bathroom either.  Blame means not taking responsibility.  You can only curb the magazines and tv shows that your child watches in the home, but is it realistic to shelter our children throughout their adolescence, only to have it all highlighted to them like a neon sign by time they reach college?

How many of you struggle with finding this balance at home?

Are we that caught up in societies way of constantly doing, that we must plan vacations away from work to make more work for ourselves filling our vacation up with things to do? Why is it, the more we schedule entertainment and adventures on vacation, it gives us more of a valid reason to take it?  Is it true if we don’t come back saying all the things we did on vacation, then it really wasn’t one?  I admit I was one of those people.  Keyword: was.  That’s why I inserted the definition above, as a reminder to us all… exactly what IS a vacation.

Well aware our vacation in boonyville meant we would be removed from major civilization and placed in a more quiet, serene location, but I was not prepared, however, for the lack in cell phone service, internet access and t.v.!  If it wasn’t for our nice digs in the tree-tops, you would couple us close to camping with electricity.  No cell phone or internet service for miles people!  Nada.  Zip.   Repeatedly embedding in our girls to turn off the t.v., cell phones and video games…  it was time for hubby and I to do the same and practice what we preached.

Definition Surrender [suh-ren-der]

As I lay poolside this afternoon, a vision of a young girl with ponytails crossed an already scattered brain as I felt the silkiness of flowing hair down my back when adjusting my chair to face the heat of sun.  It wasn’t always that I had such beautiful hair like this, that it has allowed me to think of the journey my hair has gone through over the years.  Often writing about my journey’s in life, in never dawned on me that my hair would go through the same journey with me.  I’m not talking about trendy hair going through years of mullets, spiked and spiral hairstyles… I’m talking about my “hair”itage.

Growing up in an all Italian family left me with an ancestry of “roots” with coarse, unmanageable, frizzy hair that often resembled “Cousin It”from the Adams Family.  I know this is true because I recently read a book that asked me to think of my most favorite childhood memory, and the first memory that came to mind was when I was about ten years old and mama called me from outside to ask if I wanted a ponytail.  Not a big deal you say?  Okay, lemme go back a bit.  When I say I came from an all Italian family, I came from a bunch of Italian women who only adorned short hair.  Often categorized in this family of short haired people with the same wirey look I resembled, they would couple me with the “WE don’t look good in long hair honey”, “WE think that long hair covers your face.” WE, WE, WE!

All I ever wanted was long hair… that I would go as far as venturing into my father’s carpentry workshop in hopes to find a spiral of shaved wood carvings to hold against my head.  Oh and the time my grandmother crocheted a yellow bonnet blanketed with spiraling curls all down the back of it that I often would place over my head in the privacy of my room, just to feel something hairlike against my back.  Now that’s pathetic.  On the occasion when I could convince my mother to try long hair again, the frizz would outweigh me literally and remarks of “You look like you have a rats nest on your head!” would bring the ol’ scissors back to haunt me again.

And so, that one summery day of ten years old, I must’ve done something right ’cause Mama asked if I wanted a ponytail.  The smile across my face was enough convincing for mom and suddenly not one, but two ponytails traced either side of my head.  I immediately ran outside to play jump rope, as I knew that would be the easiest way to have new ponytails flap against my head, a feeling I had to wait till age ten to have.  That was the memory I had poolside.  That was the thought that answered my most favorite childhood memory.   It got me thinking, my whole life always craving long hair and by time I was a teen and able to control my own hair length and hair looks, the chore of frizziness was never ending.  Hours sweating underneath a hair dryer, only to walk outside and have the infamous mushroom head right by my side.  Thank God big hair was in, in the eighties and I learned to live with a “hair”itage that would take up hours of my time.

Continuing long hair throughout adulthood, I kept my “hair”itage a secret, like you would dark circles under your eyes hidden by concealer… and when the topic of hair would come up between girlfriends, I often would say, “Well you see my hair is half-ass hair.  It doesn’t know whether it wants to be straight or curly.  It’s just half-ass.” Hairstylists would assure me that I looked great in long hair.  “Oh yes, you definitely should keep your hair long.” “I love it long, don’t you?” “We’ll just cut a pinch off, ’cause it’s looking really great this length.”  So, I keep my hair long believing in different stylists over the years as an antidote to the Italian curse I was brainwashed with.

It’s true, right?  If you suffer from frizzy, unmanageable hair, you know my gist?  If we straighten our hair through blow-drying, it never comes out straight or smooth without accompanying a 400 degree hot iron to flatten the crap out of it.  If we let it go curly, it psyches us out every time, pretending to curl when facing the mirror, but then vanishes as soon as we turn our head to exit the bathroom.  Not very nice.

To top it off I got a job managing a hair salon!  What were they thinking?  Of course I wore my hair up during our informal interview that surprisingly led to another interview and surprisingly I got the job.  Did they know what secret “hair”itage lie underneath my lifesaver of a hair clip? My hair-time tripled in the bathroom with countless passes of the hot iron to smooth out an signs of frizz, but those professional stylist soon called my hair-bluff and began sitting me in the chair like a time out.  Only in this time out chair I was primped and plumped into a sea of silkiness in just minutes that would take me hours to achieve.  Every day I walked in the salon, the same scenario happened… one glimpse of me and “In the chair Mare.”  “Mare get in the chair.”  Eventually, they would just point and I would sit like a trained scolded dog.

So what makes me a happy hair lover now?  Very simply the Brazilian Blowout.  “♪ ♫ Aaaaaaaahhhhh….♪ ♫” can you hear the Angels singing this praiseful tune?

The Brazilian Blowout is the latest hair trend right now in Hollywood, and fortunately for me, our salon just happened to be the first certified Salon in Bucks County to have this new innovative hair treatment.  A hair treatment that DE-frizzes hair?  Huh?  The first to jump in line, I received my Blowout a week ago, and all I can say is, is this what normal, shiny hair feels like?  I’ve had stylists make my hair look effortless before, but the real test was when I would wash and style it myself.  Let’s just say after doing my first blow-dry, I literally opened the bathroom door, woke hubby up and said grabbing my hair, “Is this insane!  I mean LOOK at my hair!”

Not one swipe of the flat iron ladies! I should just put the iron to rest.  Just a simple, fast blow-dry and I was ready to go.  To give it the ultimate test, I spent most of the day outside in the scorching heat and not one piece of frizz popped from my head.  If you check out the website, you’ll read all the wonderful adjectives, like smooth, shiny, manageable, easy, controlled, etc.  But the adjective I would like to say is, it’s just NORMAL.  Normal hair.

So my Italian “Hair”itage is not so bad.  Having long hair is not so bad.  Had this secret been available to us Frizzies years ago, maybe Mama would’ve had the joy of flowy, shiny hair to tie up in a kitchen full of pasta and gravy.  But for now I enjoy spilling this secret with you as a proud walking billboard for the Brazilian Blowout.  No more naughty chair for me!

To my surprise, the hiccup might have been a small warning of what was to come on a typical Saturday morning hussle, blessed with work, sports and errands.  After finally making it to the bagel shoppe for a slew of baked varieties in a brown bag, I made my way to the van, threw the bagels to the side and turned the ignition to start up a string of jalopy-like sputters that died soon after it barely started.  Okay, let’s try this again.  Baroooom, chug, chug, chug… flop.  Nothing.  After countless tries, rests in-between and then hubby to the rescue, it was obvious after speaking with our mechanic that a tow was necessary.  Never needing a tow in my years of mileage, I was suddenly grateful to be stuck in a parking lot close to home on this perfect sunny, hot day with nothing of importance on my plate, and extremely grateful that I did not cancel our AAA coverage that I’ve been meaning to do as yet another cutback in our budget.

AAA to the rescue!

Knowing approximately how long the tow truck would be, I shooed hubby away who offered to stay and wait with me and decided to keep my cell close and head for the plaza stores to kick the time.  Unfortunately, the short time I had to wait, turned longer and I was longing the for the company of hubby once again as my mind raced to think of having to share a truck with a strange man.

Soon enough, light at the end of the tunnel was clear and the purr of AAA graced its presence with a big smile from Craig peering down from his flatbed.  He proceeded to apologize for his lateness as the Police needed him prior to coming to get me as he smiled while patiently tending to the needs of my van. Giving his own technical take on the van, he tested mechanical thingy’s this way and that, but in the end a tow was still the answer.  Seeing me squirm in the heat, he guided me to his air conditioned truck, while he effortlessly took the 3 minutes to get my van on his flatbed.  And I mean that literally.  3 minutes was all it took before he hopped in, still smiling and started leading us out of the parking lot, but not before a little old lady waved us down.  Craig pulled over to the Woman along my side and rolled the window down.

“Can I help you?” he yelled over the loud hum of the truck.

“Are, are you here for me?”  She said hesitantly in a little accent, I was not familiar with.  She proceeded to say she put a call in to AAA and has been waiting for a truck.

I turned back to Craig, “We have to help her.”   Craig more than agreed and before you know it, guided Anna into his safe abode as he feverishly worked in the heat to play with her Nissan’s mechanical thingy’s too.   Anna and I introduced ourselves, we sat and chatted about family, neighborhoods and work while our eyes continued to peer back and forth as guilt pressured us to keep checking on Craig as we sat in coolness.

Two cars now hitched on back, Craig jumped in and continued our delayed exit from the parking lot, unfortunately, we did not get very far.  This time a horrific accident across the highway.  Bad.  Real bad.  The kind where you want to look, but you’re afraid of what you’re going to find, bad.  An accident across the highway, shutting both sides down.  The three of us yearned to help, but knew there was nothing we could do as the Police and Firefighters worked endlessly to retrieve people from their cars.  There were no more cars or people to invite into our threesome and there was no where for our over sized truck to go as the patrolman forced us off to a detour that lead no where.  Craig continued to maneuver our massive cargo back on the main road ahead and detoured himself to back country roads he was familiar with.  “I don’t normally like to ride these hair-pin turns with two cars on the back, but I don’t have a choice.” He grinned, loving the anticipation of a joyride in the air.  I turned to Anna perched on the other side of me, holding on for dear life with no seat belts equipped for the three of us and yelled to her over the roar of the truck. “Hold on Anna, it’s gonna get hairy!” As we continued to bounce and pounce and lean this way and that as our driver channeled us through the countryside.

What took up an hour of our time, created a bond-ship as the three of us rattled and rolled to clear highway once again.  It amazed me the conversation that could come between three strangers once stranded separately and alone now connected, comfortable and laughing at our little unplanned Saturday excursion.  I handed Anna my mechanics card as we dropped her off and she hugged me like old friends that shared an “experience” together.  Craig walked her in and waited until she was safe with a ride home before taking his smile back on the truck for his last drop off.

“Smiley” is just so nice and so happy, I thought to myself.  He must be happily married with kids… he must be doing what he absolutely loves and if there’s one thing I love about happiness, it’s sharing those tips with my yoga classes, I gotta pick his brain to share with my students!

“So Craig do you have any kids?” I pried.  “Well actually…” he paused.  “I lost my little 2 1/2 year old baby girl over a year ago.  She died in my arms on my 41st birthday.  I thought I was going to bring her home on my birthday, but instead she died.”

Bam!  Just like that, my heart swallowed as I felt  my happiness twist into sadness for his aching heart.  I proceeded to tell him how sorry I was, how awful I felt, but he assured me he was okay and was man enough to tell me it was the only thing, even after being a volunteer firefighter for years that brought him straight to his knees.  He continues to work at staying happy for his 10 year old daughter, “… the pride and joy of my life!” he lit up again.

Still smiling Craig pushed his feelings aside and landed me safe to where hubby and mechanic waited.  I graciously tipped him for all his hard work, his patience and his kindness.  But really he tipped me.  He gave me that much needed tip to share with all of you to remember…

“Happiness is not a stroke of luck that will descend upon you like fine weather.  It is the consequence of personal effort.  Happiness is something you fight for, strive for, insist upon and sometimes travel around the world looking for.  We have to participate in the manifestations of our own blessings.  Once achieved, we must keep the effort in swimming upward into forever happiness.”