Friday, August 7, 2026

Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt

 

                




                It is my privilege to speak today in memory of my sister, April Leigh. April was my very best friend as well as being my little sister, a truth that I never took for granted. And today I get to tell you what made her the very best sister anyone could ever ask for.

                My sister was a surprise, born only 14 months after me. She brought into our lives so much joy that continued for 46 years. When we were little April was a ball of energy, always charging ahead of me, always so very excited about whatever we were doing. I was the straight man to her much more fun personality.

                We always just naturally did everything together, a built in best friend at times, and of course at times mortal enemies. We joke in our family about photos of us with my cousin Amy at this tiny (I guess it was a park with some attractions?) where we always squished together into one seat while Amy leisurely sits alone. We didn’t understand that we could sit apart from one another.

                She was my constant defender. If our parents ever yelled at me, she emerged from wherever she was and defended my every motive and move.

                As we grew older, April spread her wings much larger than I ever did. She joined the band, which she loved, and she was named one of the field commanders her senior year, which was such fun for her as she was paired with one of her very dearest friends, Jennie Wisneiwski. April loved AWANA, which she participated in at Calvary Baptist Church in Byesville, and she loved going to church camp, first as a camper and later working at the camp in Scioto Hills. She worked a lot of jobs, including Wendy’s, Blockbuster, and the Muskingum Behavioral Health Center.

                She graduated from John Glenn in 1998 and began her college career at Cedarville University that fall. She started out majoring in nursing, but she quickly fell in love with psychology and changed her major the second half of her freshman year. She worked hard and graduated with highest honors in three years, in 2001. She loved Cedarville and especially her roommate Misty Smith, who had been a friend since high school. After graduation, she married Jeremy on November 24, 2001, with her friends Misty, Sara Werner, and Philina Wentworth as her bridesmaids and me as her maid of honor,  and moved to Newport News, Virginia, where Jeremy was stationed in the Navy and she began her work to obtain her PhD in psychology at Regent University.

                Mallory came along on February 2, 2005, as much of a surprise as April had been. She always told me that her song for Mallory was “God Blessed the Broken Road,” because she was so focused on school and along came this baby that shifted everything. She completed her internship for her PhD at Emerge in Akron in 2005 and 2006, which was wonderful for me because I got to keep Mallory while she drove to Akron and back from Mom and Dad’s house.

                Once she graduated in 2006 she joined the faculty at Regent and also began seeing therapy patients at Genesis. At that point they moved to Virginia Beach. On March 11, 2011 Natalie was born and completed their family. And in 2013 they moved to Kent, which was the best for us because it meant that we could get to them in 2 hours instead of the 9 that it took to get to Virginia. She continued to teach for Regent online and began counseling at Emerge, where she had done her internship. Eventually she began teaching at Stark State, which  was her favorite of all of her jobs, and once her student loans were paid off, she stopped counseling to concentrate on teaching full-time.

                My sister loved teaching and it has warmed my heart to see the messages that have been left by her students about what special teacher she was. She answered every email, every question, she poured herself into her classes and loved every minute of teaching.

                She also loved, in no particular order, Little Debbie Oatmeal Crème pies, cheese of any kind, musicals, sports of all kinds, most especially tennis (her most favorite player of all time being Rafa Nadal) and the Ohio State Buckeyes, travelling, escape rooms and games, history (her favorite historical figures being Alexander Hamilton and John Quincy Adams- she loved Hamilton long before the musical. When I heard about the musical I called her and I said, “You’ll never believe, they made a musical about Alexander Hamilton, it’s two of your favorite things!”) She was incredibly funny, and my girls and I loved her sense of humor. She was the world’s best listener; she always began every conversation with “what is going on with you?” And she ended every phone call to me with, “I love you, Joy.”

                She loved to read- we both do, and we would read a lot of things together so that we could talk about them. But she loved with all of her heart mysteries, series, and books about World War II. If we found an author that she loved, she read every single one of their books all at one time. I never understood how she kept the stories straight, reading them that way, but she wanted to gulp them all down as quickly as possible.

                She loved to plan trips and she wanted us to see everything we could squeeze in and as many unique places as she could find. We have been so many places it would take me hours to list them all out. But that was the thing that made her the happiest, planning the trips. She always told me that she truly enjoyed planning the trips almost more than going.

                She told me on one of our final phone calls that she and I only had about 30 more years of travel ahead of us and she knew everywhere that she wanted to go. I’m sure someday we will stumble upon her plans for all of that- she and I were going to be little old ladies traveling the world with Betsy to drive us.

                My sister and I talked about everything and so we had many long discussions about the importance of grief. She did a good bit of teaching in the area of the psychology of aging and longevity, and we both agreed that grief is such an important part of life, as hard as it is to grieve. I know that she is watching me and encouraging me as I go through this maddening time, pushing me to push through all of the pain of missing her to find the ultimate gift that grief can bring to your life.

                Years ago, my sister and I watched the movie Bride Wars. I watched it in the theater and told her that I enjoyed it, and so she watched it. And in that movie these two girls who have been best friends forever are planning their weddings and they start fighting with each other, and I can’t remember why but Kate Hudson’s character does get married and Anne Hathaway’s does not. But at the end Anne says in a voiceover, “Sometimes in life there really are bonds formed that can never be broken. Sometimes you really can find that one person who will stand by you no matter what. Maybe you will find it in a spouse and celebrate it with your dream wedding. But there's also the chance that the one person you can count on for a lifetime, the one person who knows you sometimes better than you know yourself is the same person who's been standing beside you all along.” And my sister, who did not cry hardly ever, said with tears in her eyes that that was us. That we were each other’s soulmates. And for as long as I live that will be the truth. I am the luckiest girl in the world that April Leigh Watson Cunion was my person.

                Also, while I have the opportunity to speak to everyone, I would like to say thank you for all of my family for the love and support we have received in the past several weeks. Everyone who has brought us food, everyone who sent a card or flowers or gifts, everyone who has kept us in their prayers- we are truly overwhelmed by the love shown to us. We thank you and ask that you would continue to hold us in your prayers.

Wednesday, February 19, 2025

A Time of Innocence













On Saturdays when I was a kid, I got up and watched cartoons all morning, and then my dad took me and my sister to the library to get books for the week and then to McDonald's, where we got the newest toy in our Happy Meals. It was a glorious day. 

When I was around 9, I picked out the book Last Chance, which happened to be Sweet Valley High #36.

This changed my life.



(This picture is of my absolute favorites of my Sweet Valley books)

Sweet Valley became my favorite make-believe place, and every week I picked out different books (I read them completely out of order) and immersed myself in the world of Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield and their bevy of friends. I adored absolutely every last little thing about the world of Sweet Valley

When I was in middle school, showing promise as a reader who could devour books well beyond my grade level, every year during the parent-teacher conference my parents would be told by well-meaning English teachers that I was wasting my time reading this drivel. I was capable, they would say, of reading classics, so why on earth would I be interested in these pastel covered nonsense books?

Well, I still read my Sweet Valley books-every night before I go to bed, the last book I read (and yes, I read 3 different books before I go to bed every night)- but the final book is always one of my Sweet Valley books. I have never outgrown my love of Jessica's machinations or my desire to be Elizabeth Wakefield (is Elizabeth the reason that I worked on the student newspaper in high school?- yes, indeed).  

Francine Pascal passed away toward the end of last year, and I read many remembrances of her and my beloved Sweet Valley. None of them hit me just right because for most everyone, there is a certain bit of snark, a certain bit of Sweet Valley being the trashy cousin of more beloved series like The Baby-Sitters Club

So I wanted to add my own little bit- they were what made me a reader, which in turn made me an English major, which in turn made me who I am as a human being in the world. I could never thank Francine Pascal enough for a life filled with all the books. 


 



Tuesday, December 31, 2024

Photographs in Sepia Tones

 


"If we make it through December,

Everything's gonna be all right, I know..."


Goodbye, 2024. Honestly, for me, it feels like it only just began yesterday. But it has been a difficult year for too many people that I love, and so I am happy to see it go and hoping for a much better 2025 for everyone.

 

My word for 2024 was adapt. It was a fitting word- one that I picked knowing that I had no choice but to do my best to succeed in too many trying situations. Ever the Pollyanna, I have hopes that next year everything will fall into place. It was perhaps a word that I should have stumbled upon much earlier in my life.


Adapt was needed and necessary in a year of a lot of stress and I will certainly hold onto it as I start into a new year of change that I never crave but that comes whether I want it or not. 


(All of my words seem to fold into my life and stay with me- it's one of the reasons that I love the practice of adopting a word every year.)

 

For 2025, my word is create. What exactly that means, I guess we are going to find out.


But I know this- all the best is yet to come.


Favorite Books of 2024:

 

Dinner for Vampires by Bethany Joy Lenz

Disney High: The Untold Story of the Rise and Fall of Disney Channel’s Tween Empire by Ashley Spencer

Blue Sisters by Coco Mellors

You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World edited by Ada Limon

The Magnificent Lives of Marjorie Post by Allison Pataki

The God of the Woods by Liz Moore

You Couldn’t Ignore Me If You Tried: The Brat Pack, John Hughes, and Their Impact on a Generation by Susannah Gora

Rebel Rising by Rebel Wilson

God Gave Rock and Roll to You: A History of Contemporary Christian Music by Leah Payne

Darling Girl by Liz Michalski

Listen for the Lie by Amy Tintera

Dolores Claiborne by Stephen King

Room to Grow: An Appetite for Life by Tracey Gold

Oscar Wars: A History of Hollywood in Gold, Sweat and Tears by Michael Schulman

Romney: A Reckoning by McKay Coppins

The Woman in Me by Britney Spears

Butts: A Backstory by Heather Radke

Renegade: Defending Democracy and Liberty in a Divided Country by Adam Kinzinger

Being Henry: The Fonz and Beyond by Henry Winkler

Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson

The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in the Age of Extremism by Tim Alberta

The New Testament in Its World by N.T. Wright

All My Knotted-Up Life by Beth Moore

 


Friday, August 2, 2024

I Didn't Imagine the Whole Thing


 



The blog, the blog, the blog. 


Once upon a time, every single day included writing for the blog, and my goal was to post once a week- I'm not sure I ever managed that high of a goal (never fear, unrealistic expectations of my abilities are one of my hallmark traits). 


So it's sort of a vicious cycle- I don't have the proper time to write, and I decide to wait until I actually have something to say, and then I do have something to say and I don't have the proper time to write. And round and round it goes. 


It's not- it's never- that I think I have profound things to say. My life is little and tiny on purpose. 


The girls and I have developed a rhythm in the past, oh, 4 years that we think makes life fairly perfect. We go about our days, me at work, them in school (or Betsy at work during the summer at both the pool and the Zane Grey museum), and then at 4 o'clock we walk. 


Our walk is the best- the absolute best- part of our day. Even when it's so hot we are dying to get back home, even when we have to take the umbrellas with us- always, everyday, it's the best. The reason for that is pretty simple. While we walk they tell me their day. Betsy goes first, and Betsy misses not a single minute of her entire day. Felicity goes second and tends to gloss over bits so we have to say, wait a minute, back up, what? Which is to say, she's funny. 


We stumbled upon this routine during COVID as something to do while socially distancing. As with everything, I didn't realize until we had been doing this for oh, probably two years, that this time was special because we are concentrating on nothing else but what each other is saying. 


Highly recommend, 10 out of 10, parenting people becoming adults can indeed be the bomb.


Stuff I'm Loving:


                                                        


We watched Party of Five and I will die on the hill that Scott Wolf should have been nominated for an Emmy for season three. Party of Five was my favorite television show of the 1990s for a very long time, and while I did not remember properly how much turmoil the Salingers endure, it was a wonderful show to revisit.


                                                


We also watched Rags to Riches, which was a short lived television show that aired on Sundays on NBC when I was in 4th grade. It is an hour long show about a man who adopts 5 orphans in the 1960s and it is a musical- it's all the things, and we all three enjoyed it more than we anticipated. (I had remembered enjoying it, but that means little as we rediscover old tv shows and movies because baby Joy was not the most discerning.)


                                                    


Brats 

The documentary about the Brat Pack is interesting- I have read Andrew McCarthy's memoir and so I knew exactly what he was going for in creating this documentary. I have a lot of feelings about the Brat Pack, which of course I wish with all of my born in the 70s, raised in the 80s heart they actually embraced. But I do indeed understand that it was not received warmly, and while Demi and Rob come across as having made peace with the moniker, that's also likely because they went on to big careers that were tainted at times by much worse than a silly nickname bestowed by a snotty journalist. 


I was sad that Judd Nelson declined to participate because Judd was the best, hands down, the best, of all of them. He deserved a bigger career, and he was particularly singled out because, after all, he was perceived as the leader. His performance in The Breakfast Club is the reason that the movie works. Judd is carrying the entire heart of the movie inside of this brash, over-the-top kid who is hurt to his core by the adults around him. It bothers me when something that I love- and I love all of the movies that are categorized as "Brat Pact" movies- has created something that the person wants to be done with. I feel somewhat complicit in keeping them trapped as teenagers. It would be my wish for them to know that even this one performance was transformative for someone. 


That said, I also marvel that Emilio allowed Andrew to interview him. Emilio carries the burden of having been the one to invite the journalist along (in true irony because he was afraid that he was coming off as stuffy and unfun in this profile of him). Emilio was destined to become the next Coppola, and he instead had to settle for Mighty Ducks (which, do not misunderstand, the girls and I love). 


Maybe it all does seem silly. But I appreciate that Andrew tried to take it apart and figure it out. 


                                             


You Couldn't Ignore Me If You Tried by Susannah Gora


I'm reading this because it was featured in the documentary and it is excellent. I cannot recommend it highly enough.


Just now, we are watching Buffy and Family Ties and Who's the Boss? (actually, just now we are watching the Olympics, but then back to normal). One of my girl's friends recently told her that it's cool that we spend our evenings together watching old tv shows and movies, and it's pretty much my favorite compliment ever. It's always really just about who I was when I was their ages and what I enjoyed and normally they like it too. 


I'm just lucky that that.




Thursday, October 19, 2023

The Way It Never Ever Was

 



I have been neglecting this space of late. 


At the end of 2022 I started quite a few blog posts, only to never quite finish them. I gave up social media for Lent. Spring of 2023 was a whirlwind of Betsy graduating and life shifting. Summer seemed to fly by.


So, I come today with shreds of thoughts and words.


Felicity is bothered by the fact that I don't believe in divorce. (I'm always saying that the blog is about the fact that I am divorced, even though I don't believe in divorce, you know.) And she told me that there are very important reasons that people get divorced, like if they are being abused or are in a toxic relationship. And like a lightbulb over my head, I understood what she was meaning when she was so angry at me for saying that I don't believe in divorce. 


What I mean, of course, is filtered through my own experience. I wasn't abused inside of my marriage. I was blindsided, yes, I was naïve and young when I made a promise to love forever. 


I think that when I say I don't believe in divorce that's likely what I mean- just standing in front of a judge and dissolving my marriage didn't magically end everything. 


I'm trying (and believe me, it is a struggle) to unlearn my tendency to filter everything through my own thoughts and emotions. 


Heavens, that used to be the point of the blog- my unwinding all of these pieces that existed in the aftermath of my divorce. It was quite self centered. It was frankly selfish. It was grief and fear and the sadness of letting go of a part of myself. 


And, you know, it's not that anymore because time heals. 


21 years ago today I promised something that is still a piece of everything I bring to the world. I'm grateful every single day that I got to have that part of my life, if for nothing else that it brought my girls into the world and being their mother is the absolute best. But also for a million other reasons. 


I'm blessed where I am. Loving those boys who don't know me, lost inside of books and movies and my own head. I don't want something new, which took a long time to just admit to myself.  And yet, all of the blog posts end that way. I'm always just talking in circles around how life turned out to be what it was meant to be. 


Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.


No matter where I go, no matter what I do, I'll never be 23 with anyone but you.


It's just that. All of that.












Friday, December 30, 2022

Yesterday and Years Ago





 And 2023 is upon us.


I have begun many blog posts this year, only to stop after a few paragraphs. I even wrote an explanation in one- "I haven't written on the blog in such a long time because the things that I have to say anymore seem redundant. The me that exists now is happy and contented and alone in only good and positive ways. Nick is replacing different flooring in my house, and Jenifer watches movies with me while he works, and we are who we were always meant to be."


The purpose of the blog is one of those things that I am unsure of- I know what it began as (a writing exercise for a young mom), and I know what it became (a sanctuary in a time of upheaval and change). But I just don't quite know what it means now, in the aftermath of all of that. 


My word for 2022 was joy. It was a bit of a play on words, and a bit of a hope inside of a year that I had dreaded a bit. (Dreaded is such a strong word, but I just don't know another word for it.) It was a joyous and wonderful year, filled with blessings that I am grateful for.  


And so we come to 2023. A year of sure upheaval as Betsy Anne settles on a college, and Felicity Kate turns 15 and at some point will be learning to drive. They are my whole heart. Watching them grow up is the greatest gift I've ever been given, and I continue to enjoy every last second, even the prickly teenage ones. 


My word for 2023 is listen. For the bulk of this year I have imagined that it would be change and then two weeks ago listen came along and planted itself in my heart. It may just be me bucking the idea of change, which will of course come whether or not I claim it, but I feel pulled toward the idea of listening, and not talking as much, and being aware of what's around me. Taking in more music and more thoughts and more silence. 


2023. All the best is yet to come.

Thursday, June 9, 2022

In Through the Out Door


 

I've had a revelation of late.

I remembered, quite out of the blue, that when I was in high school, I thought that I was in love.

Now, in all reality, I was not in love in the least little bit. (That is perhaps a harsh statement- I loved with my whole heart, as I still do, many people that I didn't know all that well in high school. And this person was my friend, and I knew him better than this sounds. But my point here is that I wasn't in love with him.)

When I think back on my life now, I usually sort of blot this person out. Or he's there, but on the edges. Where, of course, he was always meant to be. He was a friend who meant a great deal to me. But that was all that he was, ever. 

He has a daughter who is a year older than Betsy, and so when we attend various going ons at the high school, sometimes I see her, and lean over and ask Betsy, "Now, who is that girl again?" And Betsy always rolls her eyes and tells me and I'm reminded that once upon a time this person meant the world to me. 

And this particular time he stuck in my head a little longer, as I tried to understand how I let go of that person to the point that I barely remember to conjure him up in my memories of high school. 

I think I was amazed that my heart had healed that up quite so well. It seems very unlike me. 

It's been 7 years, give or take a couple of weeks, since, you know, life imploded. (There are a number of past posts that begin this same way, just change the date.) Life is full of so many wonderful things on this side of those 7 years, and none of them have to do with falling in love again, and there was a time when the thought of that- the thought of never falling in love again- made me feel like such a loser, like a sad little girl who wasn't invited to the party. 

I can't quite say when that changed, but it did. The thought of never falling in love again doesn't seem sad or pathetic at all to me anymore. 

I honestly, hand-on-my-heart don't know if I ever want to try to fall in love again. But just now I'm content with life as it is, and as it was- I was so lucky then, and I'm so lucky now. Blessed, always. 


Stuff I'm Loving:



 Run Towards the Danger by Sarah Polley

Sarah is exactly 2 weeks younger than me. The first time I ever encountered her, she was my beloved Ramona, and the second time, she was Sara Stanley, of my favorite television show ever, Road to Avonlea. I am, Sarah would say (and does, repeatedly in this book), the kind of girl that she would never have been friends with. Sarah is jaded and much cooler than me and as we have grown up together, I have always known that in reality we would never get on. I am one of the people that she describes in the book as a "wholesome-looking [girl], homeschooled, virtuous or overly innocent."  Heavens, I named both of my children after Avonlea characters. I'm as much in the vein of those homeschooled, Christian girls as you can get (without actually being homeschooled). 

All of that is to say, I know that my adoration of Sarah strikes people as strange, because she is so far removed from the young girl that I encountered at 11 years old in a role that she thought was stupid even then. But adore her I do, and this book is just another reason why. 

The whole entire book is illuminating and memorable and just all the things. But in particular her chapter on Jian Ghomeshi should be required reading for all of us. Especially in light of the Johnny Depp/Amber Heard trial, and all of the subsequent articles about what this means for the #MeToo movement- Sarah's excruciatingly honest account of the considerations that one must make when it comes to deciding whether or not to add your (famous) name to a list of accusers is important. 

Grappling with why we decide to continue engaging with someone who has hurt us is, I think, the most important conversation that any of us could be having right now. As always, I think this is a conversation full of nuance and grace and reading Sarah's words helped me to place my own feelings into a context that has alluded me for far too long. 

She would never choose me for a friend, but I'm grateful that she has grown up alongside of me. 



Out of the Corner by Jennifer Gray


This is a 180 degree turn from Sarah, but Jennifer's memoir is a delight. It's full of stories that I didn't realize that I was longing to hear. Most especially, though, it was a fascinating look at the life of someone that I feel like a own a piece of- I have watched Dirty Dancing hundreds of times, in addition to Ferris and Red Dawn and even If The Shoe Fits... because I am a true Jennifer Gray fan. Time Hop pointed me to an old blog post the other day that I had written in 2016 in which I compared Jennifer's career to Winona Ryder's. (This was pre-Stranger Things and I was lamenting Winona's' lack of roles and I said, "It's sort of like Jennifer Gray's career only on a much larger scale.")

And then she not only grapples with exactly that as her career dries up basically the minute she gets A-list famous, but she then befriends Winona (they also were both engaged to Johnny Depp- that chapter alone is worth recommending the book). She is true life best friends with Tracy Pollan, who is one of my most favorite people ever. She's funny and relatable and not Baby Houseman at all while still being exactly who I would hope Baby Houseman to be. 





Stranger Things


Felicity and I love Stranger Things. We have to watch it separately because Betsy cannot handle any of the imagery at all, so Felicity watches it quickly and I watch it slowly (because I am old and understand savoring things that you enjoy) and then we send each other memes and argue with each other about whether or not Mike is a likeable character (he is). I love that "Running Up That Hill" is cool again. (Just as Felicity and I call "The Never-Ending Story" our song now.) I love everything about it and I will miss looking forward to it when it officially ends.





Stephen King Summer 2022


Laura Tremaine (one of the most delightful people on the internet) is once again hosting "Stephen King Summer." Last summer I read Carrie, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption, and Misery. I genuinely enjoyed all three- I had only ever read one Stephen King book prior to last summer, which was The Shining. Laura has been reading Stephen King since she was young and wants everyone in the world to know what a great writer he is-she refers to herself as a "Stephen King evangelist." As someone who would likely not have read these books without prompting, I am the perfect audience for this- he is an extremely talented writer and I'm so grateful that I found this way to read his books and discuss and dive deep. The link to the website where Laura is hosting this is Stephen King Summer if you are at all interested in joining.


Other than that, I'm just reading a lot (I am keeping up with posting on Goodreads, which I used to be just terrible about), and the girls and I are watching Felicity (and I had forgotten how good the first season of it is), and we watched Dead Poets' Society at Felicity's request over the weekend, which led her down a fan fiction rabbit hole and I can't help but love how very, very much like me Felicity is becoming. Betsy is working at the pool again and working a giant puzzle while she rewatches The Brady Bunch for the millionth time. 


It's always the same summer for the three of us and that's just how we want it to be. Forever.