My Grown Up Boy with His Little

Some would first notice his long hair. Some would first notice his thin frame and clothes not from a designer rack. What I see is that plaque under one arm that states “matched one whole year” and under the other arm that smiling little boy.

After meeting him and talking a bit, some would see a young man slow to launch still working two jobs, still in college. I see a boy who is figuring out life well, giving back before he has anything to give.

After talking to him for awhile some would see that he does not fit in with the main stream crowd and will probably not earn a six figure income some day, but who am I to Project? This kid has many hidden talents that he has not tapped into yet! What I do know is that I see a young man of compassion and commitment. I see a man building a relationship with a another future young man– a man who took the time when he didn’t have to take the time to get involved. He did it not for any merit for himself, but for another human being through the Big Brothers Program in Bloomington, Indiana.

I am a proud mama right now. To raise a son who has compassion for others — priceless! I love all three of my boys to pieces. First born, I am proud of you!



The Birthday People

I call them “Birthday People” –people who stop in the middle of the day that commemorates one’s birth and take the time to simply say Happy Birthday!

Social media may have many negatives, but when the “Birthday People” do their thing, I am reminded of how powerful the simple gesture of acknowledgement is. The Birthday People take a few seconds of their day to say — you matter.

Yesterday was my day and I have to say I was
overwhelmed and touched by how much that simple gesture meant.

Thank you, Birthday People! Those of you who posted, tweeted, texted, emailed me to acknowledge #57 yesterday made my day brighter. There is a good
force in social media. I call them the Birthday People.
Many thanks again to you all!



To all my fellow Parkies out there. This is for you! If you do not know what a Parky is then you are missing out on some of the greatest people I know.
My fellow friends with Parkinson’s Disease, I had my 4 hour cognitive ability test yesterday as one of the measures to determine if I’m a candidate for DBS surgery, and I would like a redo! I would demand a redo, but I know it would be futile.

At one point in the 4 hour process that will determine my fate, I was given one minute to come up with as many words as I could think of that start with the letter L. No problem. Those L words rolled off my tongue with ease. Then I was asked to name as many C words as possible- piece of “cake.”
Then she said name as many F words as possible and for about 10 of those precious 60 seconds the mother of all F words was stuck in my mind and would not get out of the way of all the other more innocent F words that wanted their turn. I stumbled and stammered to pull those pleasant F words out from behind the big one. But like a bully, it stood its ground in my mind and blocked my other F “friends.” I thought about just saying the big one to release the others behind it, but then I
would have to admit to the evaluator the fact that word existed in my mind. So for the remaining 50 seconds, I fought off the “word that shall not be named” and held up my honor, but I’m sure lowered my score.

So neuropsychologists everywhere, take note, please pick another letter besides F during your cognitive ability tests. If you use F, your data will be skewed because most of us do not want to admit that the F word exists in our minds or has ever been spoken out loud when only 60 seconds determines our fate. There are 25 other letters from which to choose, and I get F, gosh darn it!

Red Shoes

(This is a continuation of the post from 6/3/17 titled Meet Lorisa.)

They are Lorisa’s favorite– her red high top tennis shoes. You see them somewhere on almost every page of the book. When they are on her feet — always untied.
There is a the back story about red shoes. Lori’s oldest boy played little league baseball like many boys do when they are seven and eight years old, but you will not hear of his name in the MLB because it was soon discovered that his gift was numbers and baseball stats. He is a successful financial consultant today. Oh, but he did have a pair of coveted red baseball shoes that he passed down to my oldest boy two years younger. My oldest wore the flashy red shoes for one year of little league. He soon realized that baseball was not for him the day the coach had to yell out to him in the outfield “take the glove off your head!” Today he volunteers his attention and time to young kids through the Big Brother program who are also at times are being told “to take the glove off your head.”

Next, the red shoes were handed down to my middle child. They were actually a size too big and flopped on his feet the first year he wore them. However, the minute he put them on and a teammate said “cool,” it was like those shoes were magic. He wore them for the next two years until the rubber cleats were completely worn down. You will not find his name in the MLB either. He traded his passion for baseball for a career as a sales analyst. Lori and I share cherished stories of a little boy who looked up to his older brother and older family friend so much and insisted on wearing red shoes a size too big for him. He was even nicknamed “Red Shoes” for a few years.

So as you read the pages of NOT YET and see a cute little girl proudly wearing her high top tennis shoes, you now know the precious memories that Lori and I share of “red shoes.”

Why are Lorisa’s shoes always untied …… because “she’s not quite there yet. She’ll get there. You bet!”

NOT YET….. coming soon!

By:  Lisa Cox & Lori Hockema


Do You Know Where You Are?

Do You Know Where You Are?

I’m home now. After a warm week in the Florida sun visiting my parents, I am at home. The road, or should I say sky, to get home was a bit bumpy.

I was dropped off at the airport and checked my suitcase in at 6:30 pm and proceeded to glide through the airport on my knee scooter to my gate. I have a broken foot that after 8 weeks in a boot now needs surgery. Ugh. As I stood ready to board the plane, a woman who looked about my age asked me about my foot. We both came alive when we learned that we lived in the same hometown and so with that thread shared knowledge, we picked seats next to each other. What I anticipated to be a routine flight home, became another story in my life to tell.

As the flight took off, Jan Sheehan and I started a running dialogue that didn’t stop until 3:30 am, but it only takes 2.5 hours to fly to Indianapolis. Let me back up.

Once Jan and I settled in our seats, we both began a quest to find common ground. Surely, one of her children knew mine. Her four girls were all about the same age as my three boys. Surely, we had at least one friend that we both knew. Try as we might, we could not find anyone or anything that would bring our lives together in spite of living minutes from each other.

As we began sharing our family photos and videos, the ride became a bit bumpy, and I began to get a bit panicky. As the ride began to get very bumpy and I got very panicky, Jan reassured me that in her expertise after much flying experience, this was just a little storm, and so we proceeded our deep, very focused discussion in sharing our life stories.

When we landed, with much relief, I called my husband who I knew I was just minutes away from giving a big hug. “We’re here,” I said. “Uh, no you’re not, he argued. “Yes, we just landed.” I
tried to correct him. Duh! “Lisa, do you know where you are? You are in Louisville!” He was laughing now. Apparently, we were in such a deep discussion at one point even trying to arrange marriages between our children that we missed the announcement that it was too dangerous to land and we had to refuel in Louisville.

I grabbed Jan’s arm and tried to save her from the embarrassment of having the same conversation with her daughter, but I was too late.

For the next hour and a half we sat in a stuffy plane with nothing to do but continue to marry off our children and try to find a common friend we both knew. I had gone through about everyone I knew, then I thought of one more. “How about Janet Ostendorf,” I said. She lit up. “She is one of my best friends!” “No, she is one of my best friends,” I argued smiling. There it was. The thread became a thick cord of new a new relationship through the common friend of Janet Ostendorf, but then I thought who doesn’t know Janet Ostendorf! Lol.

By the time we finally made it to Indianapolis at 3:30 am, My new friend admitted to me that she had already lied to me. No, it was not a mild storm. Inside, she was scared to death. She just told me it was mild to keep me calm. With that knowledge I say boldly and without reservation, yes, I know where I am. I always knew where I was, right next to a new friend who I believe I will be adding to my treasure chest of friends. I believe we will be laughing about not knowing where we were for years to come.

Janet Ostendorf, Jan, and I are having lunch next week, but I’m not surprised any more. Everyone in town knows the beloved Janet Ostendorf!


Oh, The People You Meet…

Oh, the People You Meet…

It’s cliche, but it’s true. If you follow your passion, take risks, open your heart, be willing to get hurt along the way, keep your eyes on your journey through life, oh, the people you will meet. They are all wonderful and part of the journey that led me to now. I have learned something from every one of them. Not all of them like me. Some of them I know I have irritated along the way. Some have become dear friends; others have walked the road with me for just a season, but oh, the people I have met.

I met the girl singing this song in the video almost one year ago. We put this song together before we physically met, and she sang the song for an audience before we knew we would be fast friends. We don’t see each other often, but it’s a rare day that I do not get an encouraging text from her, and we both share this passion for music. I am the word girl. She writes the melodies. I have tried to write the melodies, but Heather says for me to, “em, Lisa, stick to writing words.” That is true honesty from a friend.” Lol.

I wish I could list all of their names, but if you know me at all, your name would be on this list, and I thank you for being part of my life. I believe there are no coincidences, and each of you have led me to where I am now, who I am now.

Who will I meet today? With whom will I write a song, solve a problem, share a laugh, tell a story, recall a memory?

Oh, the people you meet. Keep your eyes open. Who will you meet?