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Let’s Hear it for Parenthood

Another Way for week of April 30, 2021

(Editor’s Note: Seventh in an eight-week series on “Let’s Hear It.”)

A few days ago, I reminded my husband, “Forty years ago today I went into labor.” It was our first baby and the labor was extra easy, about six hours total. And later we went through two additional labors, much longer and more intense, but there is something about the first time that initiates you and makes the memories stand out as pillars in your life.

Forty years ago I had planned to have lunch with a coworker that day. My husband and I both remember that lunch keenly because I had garlic, and he did not—he ate his regular packed PB&J at the warehouse where he worked. Evelyn and I indulged in something Chinese. When I went into labor that evening, husband told me later: next time, please don’t have Chinese food for lunch. As if that was the major hard thing anyone was enduring that evening. But I did apologize. After losing my lovely lunch.

Our first born, four days old.

I wouldn’t trade the experience of parenthood for anything and it only gets better with grandparenting. I know grandparents who are raising a second generation who would perhaps argue with that, but the love and commitment and energy they share at this older stage of life with their young’uns is nothing short of amazing, with its own rewards. These little ones bask in the love and attention the grandparents shower.

And the love goes both ways. A friend of mine, Sara Wenger Shenk, shared this precious story in her new book, Tongue-Tied: Learning the Lost Art of Talking About Faith.

New book by Sara Wenger Shenk, a college friend.

This experience happened before the Covid pandemic: “My husband and I visited the church where our two-year old grandson attends with his family. In the foyer when he spotted us, he shrieked with delight, danced a little jig, flinging his arms wide, and made a dash for his grandpa’s arms. He beamed from head to toe. Everyone who watched him glowing in his grandfather’s arms saw the radiance of pure love.” A lot of us have now been vaccinated twice and are once again enjoying hugs from our little ones.

In my experience, being a parent teaches us about love, patience, understanding, glee, sacrifice, hard work, the nature of pain, courage, stick-to-itiveness, and what our own parents taught us (if we were among the lucky ones with good or great parents).

Back to the forty-year-old daughter. Does it stop me in my tracks realizing her age makes me pretty old? Of course. Does it make me ponder what’s ahead? Of course. My mother’s own situation (and gratitude that we still have her) also jerks me into the reality of knowing my husband and I won’t be on this earth forever.

Young parents.

What a wonderful gift God gave us through families! Parents are meant to nurture, shape, raise, and influence the next generations. No one said the job is easy. There are always conflicts, different ways of viewing the world because of the different generations we’ve grown up in, different values and goals. And there have always been political conflicts in families—think of the wars that have split families before even donning a uniform or choosing a path different than your parents did. The pandemic of the past year and months has caused many family conflicts too.

But the God of love showers us with energy and compassion and good will and hopefully wisdom, even when we disagree on paths. May we continue to do our best with whatever children and grandchildren and even great grandchildren come our way.

Labor stories?

The best parenting advice you ever received? Or the worst? We’d love to hear!


Working, mothering, and other "minor" dilemmas: An inspirational guidebook for raising kids while working in and out of the home Hardcover
Enter giveaway for a paperback version of this book, first published in 1984

This month I’m giving away two copies of one of my early books, Working, Mothering, and other “Minor” Dilemmas. Enter your name by email at or the Another Way Newspaper Column Facebook page. Or send to Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834 postmarked before May 20, 2021.

Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of nine books. Another Way columns are posted at a week after newspaper publication.  

Let’s Hear it for: Planning Ahead

Another Way for week of April 23, 2021

Let’s Hear it for: Planning Ahead

Sixth in an eight-week series on “Let’s Hear It.”

Faithful followers of this column know I’m nearly through doing a series on a related theme. This has been a tool to keep me focused on what I’m going to write about next week and the next, etc. There is nothing worse than waking up two days before a column is due and panicking, what on earth am I going to write about this week?

Sometime around the end of January, I was drooping in the idea department and took a few minutes to probe my brain for things I wanted or felt compelled to write about. I knew readers (me too) were certainly getting tired of reading about pandemic this and vaccinate that, and wanted to provide a lift. So I went through my basket of ideas—literally random thoughts jotted down from time to time about possible column topics. I organized the ideas into a series that I thought would work—for me if for no one else. I don’t know if papers are using the little “editor’s note” at the top describing the current columns as a series, but whatever. That’s not the important thing. The important take away for readers is—as in this column, the beauty and blessing of planning ahead.

Planning ahead regarding which lane of a toll plaza you need to go through is definitely a good idea.

Planning ahead helps you can keep up with the chores you’d like to get done, menus that will keep you from the 4 o’clock panic of oh my what on earth are we going to have for dinner, people you need or want to call or drop a get well card to, people you need to contact about a church function or assignment. Or hobbies or projects or exercises you’d like to begin!

My daughter will forgive me I hope for using my favorite story here of her habit of procrastinating in middle and high school. By high school I didn’t always know what her assignments were, or looming special projects. The kind where you have to run to town to get special markers or paper or posterboard. Actually, if she needed Dad’s help—such as her idea to build a French guillotine (I kid you not)—she normally got him involved early enough in the assignment that she could work with him to build the horrible thing (which stayed in the darkest corner of my cellar for a number of years).

Getting off the bus: the science fair project was probably the furthest thing from her mind.

But one school morning she got up around 6:30 and said, “Oh yea, Mom, could you help me pull together a project for the science fair?” Eyes pleading.

“What!” I exclaimed. Then sighing, I probably said, “Maybe. When it is due?” and lowered my eyebrows into a motherly scowl.


I don’t have any photos of Michelle working on a science fair project but she certainly enjoyed digging her hands into quite involved projects, as seen here with her Grandpa Miller.

I looked her in the eye, swallowed hard, and said, something like, well, get to work. I forget what she came up with and what I had to gather for her to complete it (I tried to keep posterboard on hand for such last minute calamities) and low and behold, she got it together with minimal help but lots of me cheering her on. And of course offering her a ride to school in our van rather than dragging it on the school bus which gave her a little extra time to finish. I think she got at least a C for her efforts.

So. Don’t procrastinate. Plan ahead. Get that list going. You know these things. As the Good Book says, “Happy are they who do these things.” (John 13:17, paraphrased).

And you know what? From my end, columns like this almost write themselves, at least for me. I start with a word or phrase and let my brain go and I truly hope it inspires you to get a task on your calendar or your refrigerator, marker board, bulletin board—or create a list somewhere. Have a wonderful week!


Any last-minute homework finished or forgotten—or other—stories to share?

Does planning ahead make you feel organized–or guilty and stressed?

Comment here or send to or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.

Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of nine books. Another Way columns are posted at a week after newspaper publication.  

Messing with Memoir: Getting Started Again

April 27, 2021

Getting Started Again

Well, last year around this time of year, I gave myself almost a month’s vacation, including almost a week of travel to Indiana to visit my mother. With a stop in Ohio at our daughter’s house, and back. I kept up with writing my newspaper column, but nothing on my memoir project.

I was pondered if I could dig back into the memoir project again. Would my energy and creativity subside and be lost to the passage of time?

So for the heck of it, I just jumped in. I speculated on a good next step. Where should I dig in again? And it seemed prudent to me to tackle Chapter 1 again. Currently that title is “It all Began in the Chicken House” (just to whet your appetite a bit). And then I planned to progress more chronologically through time. Earlier I had written snatches of this and that–stories, memories, descriptions, checking newsletters and reports for details. I knew in my heart I was going to get the sequence seriously messed up if I didn’t try to proceed from an actual real life timetable. I don’t want to get mixed up in what I put in what chapter, as some of the themes and topics are fluid and run throughout several of the proposed chapters.

So the next night I sat down at my laptop–amidst little breaks helping Stuart on his therapy (knee surgery last March 10 2020)–and just started writing. I also went to the basement to dig up some old articles from files to help me check facts, and by morning I was fully engaged: as excited as a pooch to dig in again.

At that point I wrote, “I think it is coming. Yay!”

And it still is. In fits and starts while also working on two other freelance projects. Did I say I’m retired?

I do get a nap almost every day, we go to a gym/pool and work out almost every morning (aiming for 4x a week), and then there’s dinner to get and gardening and stuff to do for church and Lions Club.

But it’s the BIG writing project at the back of my mind that keeps me creatively chugging along.

I’ve always been able to write in small chunks of time. I know some writers feel they must go to a retreat cabin to write, or a coffee shop, or have a solid week of time to devote to big writing, but those are hard to come by. Sometimes I have an hour here or there, but often it is literally 2 minutes between tasks.

Currently I can’t wait to get back into the memoir project. June-ish!


If you are a writer, what are your favorite places to write? Do you grab snatches of time? How do you keep plugging away?

I chose this visual because although this isn’t me, it is how I steal away to write snatches as time allows! Plus this is a lovely book that I had a blast working with the author to complete! Perhaps a sweet book for a young mother in your life–or a grandmother this Mother’s Day…

Let’s Hear it for: Smiles!

Another Way for week of April 18, 2021

Let’s Hear it for: Smiles!

(Editor’s Note: Fifth in an eight-week series on “Let’s Hear It.”)

I’ve been practicing smiling like a woman I see at the pool where my husband and I work out. I find her smile contagious—just beaming at almost everything her small group of pool friends says or shares. Even when I can’t see or overhear what the other women are sharing (group of three), she smiles in empathy, encouragement, solidarity, companionship.

Long ago there as a woman at our church who was the same way. Her name was Kathryn Roller. She wore a smile that was almost endless. And she was just that kind of person: hopeful, helpful, always doing good for others. Her smile was infectious. Every time I thought of her then or even now (long since passed), I have to smile.

Mom never liked this photo if me because of the windblown hair but it was a professional photo taken at our home with a satisfactory smile. 🙂

I used to be embarrassed to smile. I’m one of those gappy front-teeth-spaced-apart persons, who never had opportunity for braces while young. Very few of us had braces in those days. They used to be reserved for either the very rich, or those with extreme teeth and chewing problems. I used to try to bring my two front teeth together with rubber bands. I would wear the rubber bands for a couple of hours and would actually see my teeth come together in the front. But of course when I took off the bands, I lost the effect. I never dreamed of asking my parents if I could have braces, nor did I ever pursue it as a working adult. Smiles can be endearing and welcoming even when we don’t have perfect teeth.   

There’s an ad on local TV advertising dentists who specialize in giving those with advanced teeth deterioration or other issues a new smile. One woman’s smile on the local ad is absolutely glorious. She says in the commercial, “Now I smile ALL the time. I can’t stop smiling.” It is truly a beautiful smile and she says her new teeth changed her life significantly.

Smiling more can even improve your health and well-being. The Henry Ford Healthcare System says that smiling not only boosts your mood, but helps release the all-important cortisol and endorphins that can help reduce blood pressure, reduce pain, stress, plus strengthen your immune system and endurance ( 

A sad side effect of our current need to wear masks when out in public is the world sees many fewer smiles. I try to practice smiling even when wearing a mask: you can see the crinkles around the eyes, and it is especially important now.

Me when I was about 4 or 5 on vacation in Kentucky.

Many people have spoken of the benefits of keeping a gratitude notebook or journal, writing down things or people or experiences that you are thankful for. This can help improve your overall outlook. This also happens when we make the effort to smile more. When you are waiting at a stop light or standing in line at the grocery store, smile. Even though having to stop or wait is irksome, most of us won’t have our schedules for the day wrecked by needing to wait. (If we are always running late, that’s another issue to work on!) So the practice of smiling while waiting can change your outlook.

Smiling at children—yes even while wearing your mask—can produce smiles back. The Henry Ford website says that “children smile an average of 400 times per day, compared to the average happy adult who smiles 40-50 times per day, and the typical adult who smiles only 20 times per day.” Just today I watched a small child ignite smiles in five other people: so magical!

We have just come through the season of Easter. There is no doubt in my mind that Jesus was a frequent smiler. Yes, he got angry—he was also human. But if you read the stories and conversations in scripture, you can detect how welcoming his smile must have been.

And now that I’ve finished this column, can you tell I am smiling? (Imperfect though it is.) See how many times you can make someone else smile today!


What have you observed about smiles?

Comment here or send to or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.

Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of nine books. Another Way columns are posted at a week after newspaper publication.  

Let’s Hear it for: Siblings

Another Way for week of April 9, 2021

Let’s Hear it for Siblings

(Editor’s Note: Fourth in an eight-week series on “Let’s Hear It” with thoughts on various topics.)

How do families manage care for aging parents if there is only one child?

Yes, plenty of people choose not to have children, and many stop at one. These are perfectly acceptable households and ways of living. I’m not putting anyone down for the choices they’ve made or had thrust upon them because of fertility problems or other issues.

Four siblings: Pert, Nancy, Melodie and baby Terry. I was about 4 1/2 here and my little brother was 6 mon

But at this stage of life, I am not only grateful we have three children, but that I grew up in a family with four siblings.

My mother had another fall in February. This time she broke her shoulder (last year it was her femur). She has been working heroically to recover. We are so proud of her. But it is hard for her, hard for us, hard for any family during these still-pandemic times.  

On Easter Sunday after trying multiple times to connect with her by phone, she closed out our phone call by saying “I am so thankful to have such wonderful kids.” I was in the process of hanging up, and almost didn’t hear her sweet words. She has said that to us numerous times in the past, but her recovery this time has been slower, more painful, more difficult, more depressing for her and us. The difficulties have made it harder to find things to be thankful about. She says she complains too much, but who wouldn’t?

But Mother has a team of us who take on different caregiver roles, something we’ve tapped and named in these later years. Most families are spread out in these times, and rare is the family whose children all live close by. Mom is blessed to have my oldest sister living within 10 miles. She’s a retired nurse. Nancy runs countless errands for Mom in addition to asking knowledgeable questions of the medical staff.

My second oldest sister is Mom’s power of attorney. Mom can still keep her own checkbook and pay her own bills, but Pert is her helper/overseer in this department and I’m sure she does more than I even know about. She is also the asker of hard questions—willing to push and confront staff. God bless her.

My youngest brother lives farthest away—about 900 miles. His wife and her sister take turns caring for their mother who has dementia. So Terry stays in touch with Mom the best he can and we all appreciate the pastoral role he takes on when he is able to visit: leading in prayer and holding hands—so sweet and tender. I remember that gift especially when Dad was in failing health.

Me? I’m the writer of course, trying to keep in touch with Mom by mail and phone—and also jotting down notes and then typing them and emailing them to the family to summarize conversations and decision making by the family and Mom’s Careteam from the rehabilitation unit she is currently in.

Mom about three weeks after her fall.

Of course we all interchange our roles from time to time. I’m sure those who work in nursing facilities pretty much roll their eyes when the “out of town” family members descend on the facility, demanding such and such, asking why about that oversight, or finding a new sore that has developed.

I have felt so sorry for those who’ve lost a loved one in this past year and were not able to be with their relative physically in their final days or hours. At least many facilities have now opened up visitation with compassionate care rules that allow those connections to happen for grieving and bereft family members going through the valley of shadows.

They say getting old is not for sissies, to use an old term. But thank goodness for sibs, if you are fortunate to have good ones who show up, do what they can, pray when they can’t, send flowers, checks or gift cards, and generally support the whole team through the tough times of aging. 

Nancy and me visiting Mom. My other sister came a week later, to spread things out. Mom had not yet had a shampoo (for about three weeks) but now she’s getting a weekly hair appointment which is wonderful therapy! The staff person who took the photo told us we should take our masks down for the photo. 🙂


Your thoughts or stories?

I’m sure when families disagree about care plans for elderly parents, that sometimes it might feel easier and less stressful to be the only child. I’ve talked to numerous folks when disagreements or non-involvement have caused additional grief and stress.


Comment here or send privately to or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.

Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of nine books. Another Way columns are posted at a week after newspaper publication.  

Messing with Memoir: Sending off a proposal

Sending off a proposal

Last year at this time,* I was spending days in a blur, and getting extremely frustrated with how my husband’s knee therapy was advancing, or wasn’t, because of the quarantine. Days were long and unexciting.

Than I remembered my goal of getting a proposal off to a possible publisher by the end of April. My day suddenly became one sparked by purpose, by a goal beyond getting three meals on the table and surviving eight or more hours of my husband’s therapy and applying ice and making more. I was coach as we spent several weeks without a physical therapist due to Covid.

I still get much joy our of ideating, creating, writing, editing, correcting, tweaking, and finally, pronouncing it done. Well done, I hope, or at least readable, marketable and interesting to others.

I was able to snag extra time to work on my memoir because I purchased a column (for my syndicated newspaper column) from a great nephew, Stone, to use, which was well received. In early April his school had closed down for the year and he wrote a great Facebook post on being a senior finishing up his year. His “help” enabled me to finish drafting three sample chapters.

After doing my best, I left them rest a bit for breathing space before tackling another serious edit.

Then, whew. I hit send. After doing a final proofing of my proposal, three sample chapters, my vita, and a chapter outline, I was almost as giddy with eagerness as I was the first time I ever sent off a book proposal. Only now there’s no endless retyping on a manual typewriter (yes I did that!), and securing a large envelope and postage plus that all important SASE.

Yours truly, circa 1978, typing.

On a trot out to retrieve our morning paper, (yes, we still subscribe to the paper), I realized I’m still asking myself whether my project has merit, is it publishable, can I really do this, just like I did in 1982 or so! Nine books and many other brainstorms later, I still have a foot in the game, and anxiously awaited a response from a publisher.

And now, I will sit back and wait for a response, and do other things. Happy day!!


If you are a writer, do you love to spend time writing? Or do you dread or hate it?

Is it a chore or a diversion or a hobby or your livelihood?

*I’ve decided to come clean and reveal that these posts on writing a memoir were first drafted last year as I worked on a proposal and various chapters. I am sharing the ups and downs and will lead up to talking about titles and subtitle options, covers, and eventually, I hope publication and launch. I will enjoy and appreciate any feedback or your own stories!


An author I’ve worked with who helps writers be published is Margot Starbuck. Check out her robust resources and info here! She sparkles with ideas and pizazz!

Let’s Hear it for Spring—and Shots!

Another Way for week of April 2, 2021

Let’s Hear it for Spring—and Shots!

(Editor’s Note: Third in an eight-week series on “Let’s Hear It” with thoughts on current trends.)

“Come here,” my husband asked gently, pausing at the side door of our garage. We were getting ready to make a short run to town. “See what’s here.” In spring he has a fit about the flies that hang around the east side of the house, and spends much time swatting flies. So I was expecting to see a swarm of flies.

I looked out the door and saw only a beautiful gray mourning dove turning her head, eyeing us, cocking her head from side to side as if to say, “Well, I’m back!”

Creative Commons photo: Mourning dove

Mourning doves do migrate south in fall from our part of Virginia and return in March or April. She was right on time, a week before Easter. In the Bible, a dove attended the baptism of Jesus at the Jordan River at the beginning of his three-year ministry on earth. Christians consider the dove to be a symbol of the Holy Spirit which came to the disciples 50 days after the death and resurrection of Jesus.

Our dove sat there until we opened the door but I’m sure she will hang around and coo gently from her usual perches on the power line crossing our field, or our front porch. I can usually hear coos as I work in the flower beds and garden. So I was happy to see the dove instead of the flies—a less-welcome harbinger of spring.

This spring many of us are thrilled to be celebrating that the vaccines which we hope will bring Covid under control are more widely available, and to increasing age groups. When my husband and I got our first shots, availability was still rather tight—a month ago—and we’re both in the over-65 age group. So we had to hurry home from a trip to visit my mother in Indiana, in order to get shots after our daughters tag-teamed openings for us. This was at two different CVS pharmacies, about 40 miles apart. Michelle made the application for us online and by the time she tried to get the second reservation, that store had filled all their slots. So she snagged a second location for us.

As I sat in a waiting area for my husband (whose shot came first), I was struck by how those coming to this pharmacy did not appear to be locals. Sure, our communities here are somewhat diverse but not so prevalent in the small town of that pharmacy. I noticed there were Asian, Middle Eastern, African folks in line—some I could tell by the accent. A young woman, about the age of our daughters, had driven her parents—I’m guessing Nepalese or Indian—to this particular CVS from northern Virginia, a distance of about 60 miles. Northern Virginia is very diverse ethnically.

A wave of gratitude, joy, and amazement came over me as I sat there—and slowly a memory came to mind. I was transported back to the early 50s when as a young child I received the small pox vaccination that saved lives in those days. I remembered that shot because the aftereffects on my arm were ugly. It did not heal well and left a big scar for years, although I can’t even see it now!

Loopy me, probably about the age I received the small pox vaccine, “dancing” in our living room, as my sister “Pert” directed.

I teared up as I thought of so many people all around the world lining up for these shots now—filled with hope and prayers for better years ahead as we continue to try and be careful, clean, and conscientious to keep everyone safer. I also thought of many millions of frontline workers who are still serving in dangerous roles taking care of the ill or providing essential services. I am saddened though to know that in less affluent countries, governments do not have the funds to buy the vaccines for their people.

May we celebrate Easter with new hope for life and love for our fellow human beings—sharing the love that God demonstrated in this beautiful season—and praying for those who will be waiting awhile.


Have you gotten a vaccine shot? Why or why not?

Your thoughts or experiences?

Comment here or send to or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.

Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of nine books. Another Way columns are posted at a week after newspaper publication.  

Messing with Memoir: Dross, rubbish and the rewriting

Post 4: April 6, 2021

Rewriting things isn’t so bad. That’s where material brightens, comes alive, and gets purged of the dross, as the Bible says.

When I hovered over my word there, “dross” to check for synonyms and make sure I was using the right word, it brought up my writing professor’s favorite word for really poor writing, “rubbish.”

I like that word too. And I will pay tribute here to the unforgettable Omar Eby who truly steered me into better writing and perhaps this career I have loved so much. Maybe he wouldn’t want to own his influence, but for better or worse, he was absolutely one of my favorite professors for having the nerve to use strong words such as rubbish. Omar (as we called our profs by their first names), sadly, had dementia in his last years. At a nearby “cottage” type facility where my church caroled, he seemed to remember me but perhaps he was just being his polite self. He died earlier this year which I wrote about here.

College kid, senior year.

When you reflect on the teachers who have steered you, who stands out? I could name many more: Mrs. Galt, a middle school teacher who submitted an early essay to our very small town paper–and they published it. Miss Hoover, a high school English teacher who frequently read my work aloud in class. Gretchen, an editor in college who said I was writing like I was still in high school, but she steered me well, I think. A magazine editor who said I wrote with “verve.” I loved that. Especially since he paid me frequently: small amounts, but the money wasn’t the important thing. An eventual boss who gave me a chance to …. oh, but I’m getting into my memoir here. We’ll save that for later!!

Any teachers or editors or bosses you want to name?

Sing their praises in the comments.

Let’s Hear it for: Old, Used, Recycled

Another Way for week of March 26, 2021

Let’s Hear it for: Old, Used, Recycled

(Editor’s Note: Second in an eight-week series, “Let’s Hear It,” with thoughts on trends.)

Do you like old? Shabby chic? Vintage? If there’s an opposite to this perhaps its sleek, gray, upscale, modern.

They say Gen Xers and younger don’t go so much for old and antique and yard sale finds. What things are precious, and what things are just old?

Aunt Ressie’s sewing box (my husband’s aunt)

I have an old sewing box that is very cute, but I have absolutely no idea what to do with it other than keep it in the guest bedroom. It was a keepsake from my husband’s Aunt Ressie. We have a lot of those from Aunt Ressie because she married very late in life and had no children. The nieces and nephews—and then her great nieces and nephews—were her kids. She bought stuff for them every Christmas until they reached the age of maybe 10 or 12. The sewing box is beautiful and I’m guessing it was something that was passed down to her. It has old vintage wrappers of the tiniest needles, wooden spools, and darning eggs.

To me, the scissors–sharp as knives–is the most valuable thing here. My mother guarded her sewing scissors carefully!
Remember darning eggs? My mother used a light bulb for hers….

Things that bring memories are hard to let go of or pass on. A friend, Ronda, recently posted this comment on Facebook along with pictures of two cuckoo clocks. They moved to a different home last year in a rough year when she also lost her beloved mother.

“My dear Hubby hung two cuckoo clocks. The first one was my grandfather’s, my mother’s father’s clock. It’s old but I don’t know how much it’s worth. Priceless to me. The second one, is more valuable as it is handmade from the clock makers in the Black-forest, Germany. I watched my parents pick it out and I listened to them tell one another how much they liked the love birds. The trip down the Rhine River with my parents will always be a treasured memory and this clock represents that lovely memory. A few minutes ago, it cuckoo-ed eight o’clock for the first time in our home. I laughed out loud. Who knew I would love cuckoo clocks?”

We have a friend who had a piece of wood from an old buggy harness called a “wagon singletree.” He loves antiques. He asked my husband to use a drill press to make a hole in it to create a light fixture for his kitchen featuring upside down colanders. You may have seen such. It turned out pretty cool. Maybe I’ll think of a special use for the sewing box.

I remember interviewing a favorite professor for a radio program I worked for. I was probably in my late thirties. By that time he was in his early 60s, Something he said in that interview stuck with me. He wanted to get out of his rut as a college professor and wanted to see how different people lived. He took a sabbatical and worked in a Sears store in their stockroom. Some of the coworkers began to think he was a lackey for management. We were talking about acquiring things and he said what he was about in his sixties was getting rid of things, paring back, not buying more.

I feel like I’m somewhat at that stage of life. Especially this past year of the pandemic. New clothes seemed unimportant, especially in retirement. I’ve pondered how to cut back on what we have. I even hate to throw things away that have only been used one time—like the Styrofoam carryout boxes from a restaurant. If I can wash them and get a second use out of them, that makes it feel more worthwhile. Yet I don’t want to fill my cabinets and drawers with used Styrofoam containers. My favorite thing to do is fill them with food to pass on to my elderly neighbors.

P.S. May we all keep a sacred and holy Good Friday today. Blessings!


Precious mementos, or junk?

Do you like old things? Do your children or grandchildren?

Are they precious mementos, or junk?

Do you lean toward wanting to sell things, or just give them away to family?

I’d love to hear comments here or send your own stories to or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.

Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of nine books. Another Way columns are posted at a week after newspaper publication.  

Messing with Memoir

Messing with Memoir

March 28, 2021

Blog post 3

During this past year of mostly hibernation … um pandemic, I wondered if I could use some of my “social distancing” time to truly tackle this employment memoir. I decided to work on what is an unexciting part, the chapter by chapter description of what I hope to put in each chapter. I had set a goal of getting that basic proposal including chapter descriptions together by a certain deadline. How would I cram 43 years into say, 50,000 words—the current going number of words for nonfiction books of this type, according to my former boss.

And you know what? It was actually fun and stimulating to see that I could do this and wrote at least five chapter descriptions last night to keep me awake. Overall the project has kept me enthused and happy, a wonderful thing in these dark days of The Seclusion.

I think that knowing I have done this part before with modest success—writing chapter descriptions for book proposals—fuels my imagination and energy for this mundane part of nonfiction book writing.

In talking to a novelist recently, she expressed how amazing it would be to not have to have the book finished before submitting it to a publisher, as is more routine in novel writing.

So I will keep on my journey, one word, one sentence, and hopefully one catchy paragraph at a time.

In case you’re curious, here’s what I wrote for Chapter 4, see sample below. Keep in mind that outlines can always change.

Chapter 4 When Mennonites Almost Took on Charles Stanley

The Sunday morning program “The Mennonite Hour” went off the air in 1978, after seminary professor and pastor Art McPhee served as speaker for a couple years. We launched a 2 ½ minute radio program for weekday drive times, appealing to a younger and more diverse audience. The name we landed on was perfect and brilliant, until it wasn’t—and how that snafu came out. Also, Mennonites made good use of production dollars by repurposing and re-releasing numerous successful series of Choice radio spots. The spots were Dr. David Augsburger’s brainchild, delivered in his classic radio bass. His ongoing radio presence continued to help turn Augsburger’s books into bestsellers, some by non-Mennonite publishers like Moody Press.

Can you guess what happened?

Some secrets will wait for the book to launch and I hope to include lots of fun insider stuff.

Comment below!

Trisha Faye

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