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Vote for your favorite February “My Gutsy Story”

March 1, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Vote for your favorite February “My Gutsy Story”

 

From March 1st until March 14th midnight, PST, you can vote for your favorite February 2012, “My Gutsy Story.”

To VOTE, please go to the poll on the right  side of this post. You will find it on the sidebar listing the names of all 4 “My Gutsy Story,” authors.

Here are the 4 stories. Only ONE vote per person.

1). Larry Jacobson

Larry Jacobson

2). Anne Schroeder

Anne Shroeder

3). Brooke Bridenstine

Brooke Bridenstine

4). Barbara Hammond

Barbara Hammond

The winner will be announced on March 15th. Winner gets to pick their prize from our 9 sponsors.

Good Luck to all of you. Your stories are amazing and inspiring. Please share these stories with friends and fellow writers and bloggers by clicking on the SHARE links below.

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Do you have a “My Gutsy Story” you’d like to share?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

Please share the “My Gutsy Story” series with others on Twitter using the #MyGutsyStory. Thank you.

“My Gutsy Story” by Barbara Hammond

February 27, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Flying Blind on a Leap of Faith

 

My parents divorced when I was two.  My father wasn’t part of my life after that.  My half- brother was born when I was ten and my mother and step-father separated a year later.  Mom worked nights and I was the primary care giver for the baby.

One night, as I was making dinner, I heard a knock at the door.  We didn’t get visitors very often so this was curious.  I made sure the chain was on the door as I opened it.  There was a man with a grocery bag in his arms.  He said, “Hey!  Aren’t you going to let your dear old dad in?”

He looked vaguely familiar but from where?  He said, “Your mom told me it would be dinner time, am I too late?”

I searched his face and remembered seeing him briefly on my fifth birthday, he was, in fact, my dad.  Immediately I thought, “What the hell is he doing here?!”

I let him in.  He took his bag of goodies to the kitchen where my brother was sitting in his high chair eating cheerios.  As the stranger unpacked the groceries it was obvious he had no idea what kids like to eat, but then how would he?

Mom came home early that night, which was very unusual.  She was as giddy as a school girl and falling all over her ex-husband (twice removed).  I was actually embarrassed for her.

He stuck around for almost two weeks.  Most nights he hung out at the bar where my mother worked.  Sometimes he brought dinner home for us, and once he actually took us out to dinner.

Then he was gone.  Just when I got used to seeing him when I came home from school he was gone.  I wasn’t all that emotionally invested but it seemed odd.

Mom came home and informed me… “His other daughter is sick… he loves her more than he loves you so he went home to her.  It’s your fault.”

 

Fast forward eleven years… I’m married, living in New Jersey with my husband and two small children of my own.  I found a letter in the mail from Florida.  A letter from the sister I’d never met.  The sister my dad left us for because he loved her more than me.

She had just discovered she had a sister and nephews.  She wanted to know anything and everything about this ‘wing’ of the family.  The letter seemed heartfelt to me.  I answered her.

Soon after the letter was sent I got a phone call.  I heard, “Barb?”  I said, “Yes.”

“This is your dad.”

Stunned silence from my end.

“I saw the letter you sent your sister.”

That seemed so strange to me… my sister.  What the hell did I know about a sister except YOU love her more than me?

“I would love to see you and really love to see my grandsons!” he said.

Trying to think on my feet I said, “I really can’t afford to fly to Florida right now.”

“I’ll wire you the money!” was his answer.

Holy shit!  What do I do now??  I said, “That’s really nice of you but I can’t just pick up and fly to Florida right now.”

“Why?” he asked.

I had no answer.

“Think about it,” he said, “I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

Needless to say I got absolutely no sleep that night.  Why would I want to take my kids into this, potentially, hostile environment?  Hadn’t he proven he relegated me to second class?

But… there was a sister.  I had never had a sister.  She seemed genuine about wanting to meet me, learn about my life… get to know her nephews.  A sister.  I was intrigued… and I had never been to Florida.

My husband thought it was a good idea even though he couldn’t join us.  He suggested I leave the return flight open.  If I was uncomfortable when I got there I could return the next day.  That was my safety net.

I didn’t have an extensive wardrobe in those days but I had every bit of it on my bed trying to decide what to pack as a million questions ran through my head.  What if his wife hated me?   Would she be the shrew my mother said she was?  What if _____ (fill in the blank).  My stomach was in knots.

As it turned out I stayed a week.  His wife was lovely and I really enjoyed being with my sister.  Time with my father was awkward.  He kept trying to find common ground and the sad truth… there was none.

He had a horse… I’m not into horses.  He had a boat… I don’t swim and fear deep water so that wasn’t happening.  He played golf… I had just taken lessons.  Eureka!

So on a balmy and overcast day we went out to play golf.  I was terrible at it but we enjoyed a peaceable couple of hours.  It was a start.

I felt it was good for my kids to get to know their grandfather, since they had no relationship with my mother.  Unfortunately over the years my father has shown his true colors and we no longer have a relationship.

I’ve never regretted taking that leap of faith and flying blindly into uncharted territory.  I’ve always felt it’s best to know the truth than to wonder.

 

 ***

Barbara Hammond is an Artist, Writer/Blogger and Published Author and illustrator of The Duffy Chronicles, her first children’s book.  Blogging made her realize we all have a story.  Sometimes we don’t want to expose the underbelly of our story but that is often where the true lessons come from.  Our circumstances do not define us.  She is a true optimist and living proof that a good sense of humor can get you through almost anything.

 ***

Barbara, I admire what you did. You rose above the heartache of hearing your mother say, “His other daughter is sick… he loves her more than he loves you so he went home to her.  It’s your fault.” I cannot imagine the impact of such cruel words on a small child, and the fact that you were willing to give a chance to your sons to get to meet their grandfather, and to yourself to meet your half sister is heroic.

Please share your comments with Barbara below and she’ll be over to answer. I met Barbara online, and know she’s very giving and caring. You can connect with her on Facebook and Twitter @hammondart.

***

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story”?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

Please share the “My Gutsy Story” series with others on Twitter using the #MyGutsyStory. Thank you.

VOTING for your favorite February 2012, “My Gutsy Story” starts March 1st through March 14th. The winner will be announced on Thursday March 15th.

Are French Parents More Gutsy?

February 23, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

After reading an article in the Wall Street Journal about “Why French Parents are Superior”  by Pamela Druckerman, it finally hit me that some of my child-rearing methods are actually more French than I care to admit. I’m not French, but I spent a good chunk of my youth growing up in the suburbs of Paris.

My three sons are adults now, and grew up in the U.S., however, Druckerman brought up one main difference between French parenting and American parenting that struck a chord.  She said, “Who’s the boss?” She then gave the French answer:

French parents say, “It’s me who decides.”

  • Who’s the boss, you or your kids?

Right after my husband, Duke and I, made the decision to uproot our family from Orange County, California, to Belize, Central America, I remember being asked the following question, almost daily: “So what do your kids think about your decision to move to Belize?”

At the time, I thought this was a stupid question. Now I realize why.

Belize, Ambergris Caye, near our house.

Below is an excerpt from a chapter in my book: Freeways to Flip-Flops: Our Year of Living Like the Swiss family Robinson.

I’d become obsessed with Belize.

I’d tell anyone who cared to listen–including complete strangers in supermarket lines or at the gym—about how we were uprooting our family to live in Belize. Sometimes I imagined a glimpse of envy on a stranger’s face. That’s when I shifted into salesperson mode, trying to push them into doing the same.  Duke warned me, “Don’t tell everyone about Belize; we don’t want people flocking there.”

Some people thought we were crazy. Others were skeptical.  “Yeah, sure,” they said. “Let’s see if you really go ahead with it.” The second group always asked, “So what do your kids think?” to which I snapped back, “Who makes the decisions in your family, you or your kids?” Many looked shocked, but my European accent helped. It allowed people to classify me as an alien, despite my U.S. citizenship.

There are many times in life when you are faced with tough choices, and you need to make a  decision. As parents, we cannot always cave in to what are kids want; we have to decide what’s best for the entire family. We need to guide and lead, and my experience with French parents, is that they are more strict, and perhaps more “old-fashioned” when it comes to child-rearing.

I could go on about so many aspects that Druckerman covers in her article: “Why French Parents Are Superior.” For example: teaching your kids polite manners, family eating habits, and disciplining your children, because I’ve seen it done the French way and the American way.

Since I’ve lived in both France and the U.S., as well as the U.K., Denmark and Belize, I can pick and choose what’s right for my family. That’s what I love about travel, and the expat life, you get exposed to different ways of looking at the decisions you make in your life.

What about you? Who’s the boss, you or your kids?

***

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story”?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

 

“My Gutsy Story” by Brooke Bridenstine

February 20, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Sometimes it takes a Five-year Old

 

One thing to keep in mind: gutsy is relative. I am reserved by nature, I get that from my grandmother, who readily admits it is not necessarily one of the better traits she handed down. Allow me to illustrate:

  • The riskiest activity I participated in during those crazy high school days was forking. Forking is exactly what it sounds like; we stuck plastic forks in the ground of the front yard.
  • I took a job at the first company that gave me an offer because, as a pre-Obama 22-year old, I was concerned about my health insurance. That was a job in insurance administration, not something I ever dreamed of doing, and yet four and a half years later I am still in that line of work. I use line of work because I refuse to call it my career; insurance administration is not my career.
  • I paid off my first big purchase, a new car, in less than two years because I did not want to keep paying through the nose from the high interest rate.

As you can see, I express traits that more closely align with those of a conservative middle-aged man rather than a woman in her twenties. So it came as quite a surprise to everybody who knew me that this past November I spent a great sum of money (a figure I have not totaled yet) to see the musical Wicked thirteen times. After one of the performances, several things were offered as incentives to donate to the organization Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids. I made a quick decision to make a sizable donation to go backstage and meet the stars and snap a photo. It was a blast; I was shaking afterwards from the adrenaline coursing through my blood. I saw the show again the next day and actually waited at the stage door to talk to the stars again and have them sign my program and snap a couple more photos. When I relayed the story to my dad, he asked me to send him the photos so he could take a look. Later that week when I was having dinner at his house, his five-year-old son said to me, “Brooke, in the pictures of you with the people from Wicked you look really happy.” Kids, they have a gift for getting right to the heart of the matter. I looked really happy because I was really happy.

If going to the theater and writing about theater makes me happy, shouldn’t I go after that? I had started a blog a few months earlier, after thinking about it for over a year, but I was not committed enough. That moment crystallized what we all know, but can have difficulty executing: nothing will change if we don’t do anything differently than what we were doing before. Now I update at least once a week. And, though it is hard for me to swallow this fact, there is no way to know where it may lead. I won’t be able to see a show on stage every week, but if I want to change the direction of my life then I have to start somewhere. There are going to be more pictures of me looking really happy.

***

Brooke’s Bio

I graduated from Iowa State University with a Liberal Arts degree. I currently work in benefits administration. I have a passion for Broadway shows and want to follow that passion. I started blogging last year as a first step to hopefully making writing my full-time job. Thanks for following my blog

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Brooke, your story is a perfect example of someone who is following what makes her happy. I wish you all the best in achieving your goals, and keeping that feeling of being really happy, alive within you.

Please share your comments with Brooke, who will be coming over to respond.

***

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story”?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

Please share the “My Gutsy Story” series with others on Twitter using the #MyGutsyStory. Thank you.

Winner of the January “My Gutsy Story” contest

February 16, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Sara Padilla won 1st Place

Congratulations to Sara Padilla who won first place in the January “My Gutsy Story” contest with 28 votes.  She gets to pick her prize from our list of sponsors. We have added two new sponsors for the contest.

Sara Padilla 1st Place

Sara’s “My Gutsy Story” is so moving, as she shows how grief resulted in a major change within her.

Kenneth Weene 2nd Place
Kenneth Weene

We all admired Kenneth Weene’s courage in his “My Gutsy Story” story about saving a woman’s life.

 

Lois Joy Hofmann 3rd place
Lois Joy Hofmann

Lois Joy Hofmann’s “My Gutsy Story” is an amazing story of courage and being Gutsy in life, regardless of  age, as Lois Joy pointed out herself.

Pamela Sisman Bitterman 4th place
Pamela Sisman Bitterman, has a “My Gutsy Story” about her desire to  “go help starving children, be a blessing in the world, touch just one life,” in Kenya.
Dodie Cross 5th place
Dodie Cross also has an amazing “My Gutsy Story” about overcoming her fears of snorkeling in the deep blue ocean.
***

You touched all of us in different ways with your stories. I thank you for submitting and to all who voted.

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story” you’d like to share?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (WATCH VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

 

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