Coming Out of the Comfort Zone

I'm one of those people who likes to know what's expected of me and exactly what will happen in a given situation. While this personality quirk means that I'm always prepared and ready, it also means that it's difficult for me to drag myself out of my comfort zone.I have been faced with many out-of-the-box situations in the past year during my treatment for breast cancer.

I was reminded of the value of trying new and different things in life during a recent dinner date and concert with my husband.

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A Birthday Gift

For my birthday this year, my husband got us two tickets to see Todd Rundgren. Those of you who are a certain age will remember the lanky, long-haired mega-talent from '70s hits like "Hello, It's Me," "I Saw the Light," and "It Wouldn't Have Made Any Difference." 

Rundgren's seminal double-album, "Something/Anything?" was a hit just as I was beginning to appreciate and listen to popular music.The album's big single "Hello, It's Me" is a near-perfect love song.  

In addition to his solo career, Rundgren fronted several bands (The Nazz and Utopia) and was a highly sought-after producer and engineer. He was known for his meticulousness in the studio and his ability to experiment with different sounds. He was one of the first artists to recognize that video could enhance his message. His Utopia Studios was renowned as an early innovator of music videos, and videos produced there found their way into the early rotations of MTV.

Rundgren's fingerprints are on a lot of music that chugged its way through my college and young adult years. Among the artists he produced are Patti Smith, Hall and Oates, XTC, the New York Dolls, Grand Funk Railroad, the Tubes, and Meatloaf (he was the driving force behind "Bat Out of Hell."). 

Pre-concert selfie outside of Infinity Hall

A multi-instrumentalist, Rundgren plays most of the music on his albums, which often feature eccentric, but surprisingly meaningful sounds. His work paved the way for such artists as Prince and Beck.

His new album, "Global" is no different. This time, Rundgren experiments with electronica. I've often found this kind of music cold, but underneath the complex electronic sounds are the soulful Philly-style harmonies he's known for and the warmth of the themes of community and protecting the earth. I had not heard any of his new music before the night of the concert.

A Concert to Remember

My husband and I headed out to Infinity Hall, a small venue in northwestern Connecticut best known for its concerts on PBS. We had dinner in the bistro and took our seats about 15 minutes before the start of the show. 

The stage before the show started.

There was a single seat next to me in our row. It was soon filled. "Hi! I'm Jeff. Longtime Todd fan!" he said, extending his hand. He then regaled me with stories of other Rundgren concerts he'd attended, including one at the Bitter End in New York City that was recorded for the iconic "Back to the Bars" album in the late '70s.

Jeff said staffers at the hall had told him that the roadies had been setting up the stage since early morning. I told him I had seen an electrical generator parked out back. Clearly, something was going to need a lot of juice.

"This concert's going to be a little different," Jeff told me.

A Lasting Message

We soon found out what all the fuss was about. 

The lights dimmed and a guitar-toting Rundgren burst onto the stage to the tune of "Evrybody," which is reminiscent of "Bang the Drum All Day" from the '80s . The tall, black monoliths on the stage came alive with video, as two Afro-wigged singer-dancers backed up Rundgren. 

Rundgren was dressed simply in jeans, sleeveless t-shirt, and sneakers. His signature long hair is still there. Like all of us, he's gotten older. He's now 67 years old. But the sheer energy he exuded was nothing short of inspirational. 

There was little banter with the audience. The music spoke for itself. "Blind" and "This Island Earth" warn of climate change. He celebrated women (including Rosa Parks and Malala Yousafzai) in "Earth Mother." He sang about the joys of finding a grounding love in "Terra Firma." The ballad "Soothe" sounded like an older, wiser sequel to "Hello, It's Me."

He ran through most of the new album, sprinkling in music from Utopia and his older hits. By the time he did the song, "Rise" I didn't want the concert to end. As the music thudded, lights flashed, and the choreographed videos played, I felt bathed in a creative force.

When the encore  finished and the lights came up, my new friend Jeff was as ecstatic as I was. "Did you hear what he did with the classics?" he asked me. I was in awe that Rundgren could surprise a longtime Todd fan like Jeff with his concert innovations. It left me with several important messages about my own life.

• Keep it fresh. I'm sure there have been a few disappointed concert-goers who expected An Evening With Todd Rundgren and older tunes. But I was amazed at the freshness of the sound.  
• Keep an open mind. I didn't know what I was expecting from this concert. After the surprise of the opening number, I just went along with this thrilling ride.
• Age makes no difference. The guy is 67 and up there still rockin' it out.His music - both new and classic - is very relevant.

This concert reminded me that I've been blessed with the ability to hit the curve balls life has thrown at me. I need to keep things fresh in my own life. And I can still be on my feet, clapping my hands, and dancing to the music like it's 1976.

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Here's the song "Rise," off Todd Rundgren's "Global" CD.

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The 3 Things I Learned From Blogging About Breast Cancer

Happy first birthday to The Middle of the Journey - and what a journey it's been.

I started this blog a year ago as a creative outlet. I had been looking for a way to write more, but hesitated about starting a blog. What did I know about setting up a website? It turns out, it's pretty easy to get started. So off I went with my new blog.

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My first posts last July were about parenting and other observations. I didn't worry about finding topics to write about. Inspiration is usually around the next corner. Then, I received a diagnosis of breast cancer. In the last year, I've undergone a double mastectomy and reconstruction and I'm on a course of Tamoxifen for the next five years.

The diagnosis abruptly changed my blog's mission. In those first few days after my doctor's phone call I scoured the internet for information. I came across the blogs of women who have gone before me. They bravely shared their pain, sorrow, and, yes, joys with their readers. I found them a tremendous comfort and from then on, I hoped my blog could "pay it forward" to others who find themselves in the same situation.

Here are three things blogging has done for me in the past year.

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I learned to stay positive

Although I'm known for my sense of humor, I am by nature a bit melancholy. I can quickly assess the downside of any situation I'm in. But I didn't think anyone would want to read sad blog posts on an ongoing basis, and I certainly did not want to paint myself as a victim. In order to fulfill my new blog mission, I had to find the positives. I shared some painful moments, but my ultimate message to readers is "You will get through this." The blog helped me cultivate a positive attitude.

I learned there is power in sharing our stories

Breast cancer treatments are as individual as we are. No two are the same. But I learned from seeing how others got through their treatments and continued on with their lives. Those blogs also helped me in making decisions. By seeing how other women chose their course of treatment, I was better able to choose my own. 

I learned that blogging is a very social activity

At first blush, it would seem that blogging is a solitary activity. In some ways, it is. But writing my blog has put me in touch with a rich and varied community of other bloggers. Unfortunately, in a group centered on breast cancer, sometimes people die. I have mourned for those I never met in real life. I have also admired the courage and stamina of those who are battling the disease. I have also "met" bloggers from all over the world who write about a plethora of subjects - art, photography, parenting, education, religion, running. There are people out there who are willing to mentor new bloggers like me. They are all fascinating people. The blog brought me to them.

I'm still smiling!

If you are considering starting a blog of your own, I highly recommend it. You will find it more rewarding that you thought, and it will probably be more work than you thought. I started this blog with a feeling of trepidation - would it be good enough? Would anyone read it? Today my feeling is triumph!

If you'd like to read more posts about my experience with breast cancer, click on the topics in the sidebar. My journey started with a post titled Schrodinger's Cat. 

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The Blog Gets Some Sprucing Up

If you've visited my blog in the past, you may have noticed I've made changes in its appearance.

When I started The Middle of the Journey nearly a year ago, my goal was to make it easy for me to post. I used a standard Blogger template and graphics and concentrated on writing for it consistently.While I have been a writer for many years, my technical skills were pretty basic.

My new goal for the blog - and the reason I made the changes - is so that it will be easier for you, Dear Reader, to find what you'd like to read and, hopefully, share with others.

I've organized my posts according to a few categories. For example, if you'd like to read more about my experience with breast cancer, it's a simple click in the sidebar. I've also changed fonts, colors, and graphics so they reflect more of "me." I've removed a bit of clutter (including ads) that slowed the page down and made it more difficult to read.

Check out the colorful Blog Makeover Challenger badge in my sidebar. These blog changes are thanks to this challenge and to Daniela Uslan. She is what I would describe as a blogger's blogger. Her mission is to help writers like me clarify and improve their blogs.She has gathered bloggers from all over the world and given us advice, homework, and a community where we can exchange ideas. We're mid-way through the challenge, and it has been a wonderful learning experience for me so far! If you're a blogger - especially if you're new - check out her website for some great advice.

So, what's working and what isn't working for you? I'd love your feedback.

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The End of an Era

Our backyard playscape has sat empty and unused for a number of years now. The toddler for whom it was built is now a 16-year-old. The swings, ladder, tower, and sandbox call out for little ones to play with them. Fortunately, the rector of our church and his wife have two young and energetic children who would love to have their own backyard playground.

So on a rainy Sunday afternoon, volunteers arrived to disassemble it and move it to its new home. The move gives me pause to reflect on the passing of the years.

A lonely playscape

We were living in a condo in our Connecticut town 17 years ago when I found out I was pregnant. Our son arrived on a sunny June day in 1999. The condo was a perfect home - for a while. We knew we needed a yard for our little one. The real estate market was good to us, and we quickly sold the condo and purchased our current home.

Moving is hard on a little one. To make the transition a little easier, we promised that as soon as spring arrived, we would build him an awesome swing set.

The swing set in its heyday on my son's 4th birthday

I was an older mommy and there were to be no more babies, so I was fortunate to be able to stay home with my son for six years.I look back on  them as some of the happiest of my life. Not everyone can make that choice or wants to, but it was right for us.

The swing set was often swarming with children from the neighborhood. It hosted birthday parties and heart-to-heart talks. It was a launch pad for tiny plastic paratroopers, a pirate ship, and the Millennium Falcon. Those interests have given way to basketball, baseball, and now cars.

Moving Day

I am proud of the man my son has become. The pudgy toddler has been replaced by a tall, lanky, teen. He is kind and thoughtful to others. He has a sharp sense of humor and is a solid student in school. I have watched him bloom this year with an interest in theater production. He joined the high school's Unified Theater program, where he worked with students of varying abilities (check out the hashtag #katygaga on Twitter to see what his group did for one of their own).

So the empty space in the backyard represents growth, both for my son and me. I look back fondly on the warm, sunny days spent in our own backyard fantasy land. I look forward to the new adventures to come.I hope the swing set's new owners enjoy it as much as we did.

June Transitions

June is a complicated month for me.

In my younger life, June meant the end of the school year, lazy warm days in the backyard, staying up late, and summer enrichment programs. Later, the month became an end to classes, the beginning of summer jobs and internships, graduations. Now June is the month of my wedding anniversary and my son's birthday (16 years old today!)

But for me June is also flavored with wistfulness, a feeling of letting go, of leaving something behind.

Since being hired in a public school system 10 years ago, I often mark my life by school year, rather than calendar year. September is the time for New Year's resolutions, when we start fresh. June is for good-byes - to high school seniors, to my fifth-grade students who start middle school next year, to retiring colleagues.

This June, I feel like I am also leaving behind the trials of this year.

 Last June I attended a friend's wedding, a beautiful affair held lakeside on a sparkling early summer day. It was a happy, joyous, carefree day, one of the last ones I would have that summer. Weeks later I was going through tests and biopsies that resulted in a diagnosis of breast cancer.

My school year was interrupted for six weeks while I recovered from a bilateral mastectomy. The winter and spring were filled with doctor appointments and eventually more surgery to reconstruct my breasts. Today, I'm looking forward to several months of no doctor appointments and no procedures.

This June, I can see how far I've come. I look back on the dark days of fall and winter and wonder how I made it through.  I feel better today - despite everything I've endured - than I have in years. It makes me wonder if I was sicker for longer than I thought. I know how strong I am - I came through a physical and emotional battering. Once you have breast cancer, other stuff looks pretty small.

I have left behind my old self, but it feels more like a butterfly leaving behind a cocoon. This June, I am healed.

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In Memoriam

Another Memorial Day is coming to a close. We had our usual round of backyard barbecues and a relaxing day off from work and school. I want to thank those of you, particularly in social media, who remind us that this day isn't just "the unofficial start of summer." We do not wish each other a "Happy Memorial Day," rather this day is solemn, respectful. We remember our war dead.

Sadly, our family has experienced the loss of someone in uniform.

Edward Eugene Hennessay was my mother's older brother. A tall, lanky red-head who had a gift for math and numbers, he was highly regarded by everyone. He was a considerate and loving brother and son. As the only boy in the family he was not obligated to serve overseas in World War II. My grandmother had hoped he would serve by defending their island, Bermuda. But the Nazi threat was too great, he said. He needed to fight.

Edward was a corporal in the Bermuda Volunteer Rifle Corps, attached to the Lincolnshire Regiment. He was sent for training in Europe, eventually landing in Belgium. There, he was billeted with a local baker and his family. He wrote home about how lovely it was, after living in primitive conditions, to sleep in a bed with fresh lavender-scented sheets and to awaken to the tempting aromas wafting from the bakery downstairs. It was there that he fell in love with the baker's daughter, Julia, who became his fiancee before he was shipped out to combat.

Julia immediately began corresponding with my grandmother, her future mother-in-law, always addressing her letters Dear Mother. But Julia was never to become an official part of our family.

Edward was killed in combat in March 1945 at the Battle of Winnekendonk in Germany. It was part of Operation Veritable, which was designed to clear German forces between the Maas and the Rhine. Records describe fierce hand-to-hand combat between Edward's regiment and the Nazi forces. The family was told that he died trying to save a fallen comrade.

Edward's gravesite

Despite efforts by my family to bring his body home to the island, he is buried in the Reichswald Forest War Cemetery.

His death resonated through the family. My grandmother was heartbroken, She never visited his grave in Germany. A family friend placed flowers there, bringing my grandmother one of the blooms from the bouquet. My mother, just 11 years old, was devastated. Julia continued to be in contact with our family. She eventually married a man who understood about this love and loss she experienced. Their first son is named for my uncle.

I'm sorry I never knew him, but I am proud that he was a part of keeping our world safe from a terrible threat. When I married my husband, I didn't carry a bouquet of flowers. I carried my grandmother's Book of Common Prayer. Pressed in its pages, a dry and flat blossom, labeled simply in my grandmother's handwriting,  "flower from Edward's grave."