Podcasts about Crawford

Dr. Natalie Crawford, board-certified OBGYN and REI, reframes fertility as a key health signal, not just about getting pregnant. Whether you want kids soon, someday, or aren't sure, this episode helps you understand your cycle, your egg reserve, and what you can start doing today to protect your hormonal and reproductive health. Key Topics: 1. Ovarian Reserve - What your “egg reserve” really means (and why it's not just about infertility) - The difference between how many eggs you have and how healthy they are - How hormones and ultrasound can give a snapshot of how your ovaries are doing 2. Understanding Your Test Results - Why numbers like AMH can change and shouldn't be seen as a verdict on your future - How “low” or “normal” depends on your age and overall health, not just a lab range - Why testing is about getting information and options, not panic 3. Influencing Factors & Taking Control - How everyday inflammation  can affect hormones and eggs - The role of sleep, strength training, and blood-sugar balance in supporting fertility - When it makes sense to push for testing, see a fertility specialist, or change doctors 4. Charting Your Fertility Path - How to actually track your cycle beyond an app prediction - Using cycle changes as early warning signals - Thinking ahead: egg freezing, earlier trying, or simply lifestyle changes Pre-order Dr. Crawford's debut book, The Fertility Formula, now! ⁠https://www.nataliecrawfordmd.com/book⁠ Want to receive my weekly newsletter? Sign up at ⁠⁠⁠⁠nataliecrawfordmd.com/newsletter⁠⁠⁠⁠ to receive updates, Q&A, special content, and freebies If you haven't already, please rate, review, and follow the podcast to be notified of new episodes every Tuesday. Plus, be sure to follow along on Instagram ⁠⁠⁠⁠@nataliecrawfordmd,⁠⁠⁠⁠ check out Natalie's YouTube channel Natalie Crawford MD⁠⁠⁠⁠, and if you're interested in becoming a patient, check out ⁠⁠⁠⁠Fora Fertility. Join the Learn at Pinnacle app ⁠to earn FREE CE Credit for listening to this episode! This episode is brought to you by The Pinnacle Podcast Network! Learn more about Pinnacle at http://learnatpinnacle.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week's topics: • Yoruba terms of endearment & romantic language • People from melting pot cities speaking English • Is it harder to learn when you're older • Working out more important than the actual answer • Speed and decent versus slow and excellent • The culture of Yemin • Wahala's joy of BBQing meat • Not socialising anymore • Dave Chappelle dismisses Bill Maher • Trump's Whitehouse ballroom • Controversy of comedians going to Saudi Arabia • The Bondi Beach shooting • Rob & Michele Reiner's murder • Trump's disrespectful presidential plaques • AJ v Jake Paul • Exhibition fights • Terence Crawford retiring • Crawford v Mayweather legacy • #StavrosSays : Errr, I'll fill in if I remember [?] Connect with us at & send your questions & comments to: #ESNpod so we can find your comments www.esnpodcast.com www.facebook.com/ESNpodcasts www.twitter.com/ESNpodcast www.instagram.com/ESNpodcast @esnpodcast on all other social media esnpodcast@gmail.com It's important to subscribe, rate and review us on your apple products. You can do that here... www.bit.ly/esnitunes

Andy Scott is joined by Barry Jones and legendary promoter Frank Warren for the last episode of 2025.They discuss AJ's KO win over Jake Paul and whether that may encourage Tyson Fury to agree to the British megafight. Plus potential dates, venues and whether the two rivals will have warm-up fights first.Andy and Barry also round-up all the week's boxing news including Terence Crawford's shock retirement from the sport.Toe2Toe is a Sky Sports podcast. Listen to every episode here: skysports.com/toe-2-toeYou can listen to Toe2Toe on your smart speaker by saying "ask Global Player to play Ringside Toe2Toe".For all the latest boxing news, head to skysports.com/boxingFor advertising opportunities email: skysportspodcasts@sky.uk

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 4 Finding real love, at last. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. Driving home the next day felt like waking up from some kind of dream until I pulled into our driveway and Munchkin came running out to greet me. As I was getting out to reassure him that he hadn't been abandoned, the reality of my life settled right back in. I went inside, and Lane and Mary grunted their hellos without looking up. Ah, home. I texted Erin that I made it back safely, and she replied almost immediately saying what a great night she had, and how much she missed me already. It was going to be a long three weeks until she rotated back to the hospital in Petoskey. Luckily, life was as busy as always, and time flew by. For the first time since I was a child, I could honestly say that I was happy. My happiness lasted until the day before Erin was scheduled to return. I got my first inkling that something might be wrong when I called to see if Wilma wanted me to pick up any groceries for her from town. She didn't answer, which was strange, and the call went to voicemail. Even if she was napping, she was a very light sleeper and would normally answer by the third ring. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I went straight to Wilma's to make sure she was alright. Everything seemed fine when I pulled into the yard, but there was no answer when I knocked on her door. I tried again, but there was nothing but an eerie silence. Fearing the worst, I grabbed the spare key from its hiding place and went inside. I called Wilma's name and, hearing no reply, went quickly through the house trying to find her. When I got to her bedroom, I could hear a low moaning sound from the attached washroom. I ran in and found Wilma collapsed by the bathtub. She had slipped and hit her head, injuring her hip and arm in the process. She didn't have her phone with her when she fell and had been unable to move, so who knows how long she had been lying there. I called 911 for an ambulance and then called Erin and suggested that she meet us at the hospital. It took forever for the paramedics to arrive, and longer still to get Wilma loaded into the ambulance. By the time I got to the hospital, she was already being triaged by their emergency team. I took a few minutes while I waited for an update on Wilma's condition to call the rest of the family and give them the news. Alison came directly to the hospital after class, and Sharon brought Mary and Lane as soon as they got home from school. Erin arrived a few hours later and broke down when she saw me. Finally, just after nine, the doctors gave Erin an update. Wilma was in rough shape; she was badly dehydrated and had a moderate concussion, a fractured wrist, and a bone bruise on her hip. It would take her weeks to recover in the hospital. The good news was that she would make a recovery, given enough time and support. Erin and Mary decided to stay with Wilma in the hospital while Sharon dropped Alison at her dorm and drove Lane back to the house. By midnight, Mary had nodded off in a chair in the corner of Wilma's room, while I waited outside with Erin. "You should go home, Davis. There's nothing else you can do tonight. Thank God, you found her; I am not sure what I would have done if you hadn't. I already lost Grampy; I am not ready to lose Gran as well. They are all I have." I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her close. "You have me, now, too. And the girls. And you know Lane would do anything for you, you just need to ask. I was serious about what I said in Grand Rapids, Erin. I love you." Erin pulled me closer but didn't reply. The following week was a rollercoaster of emotions. Wilma was improving far quicker than the doctors had anticipated, but she would still be in rehab for at least another two weeks. It was impossible to hide Wilma's accident from the rest of the family, and they descended on the hospital like vultures; or, more accurately, their lawyers descended on the hospital while, for the most part, they stayed far away where it was warm. The one exception was Erin's stepfather, who flew in the next day. "For Christ's sake, Erin. Haven't you done enough harm as it is? Do you want your Gran to die alone on the floor of that dingy old shack of hers? It's time for her to move into a care facility that can look after her. Be reasonable!" When he failed to persuade Erin to act on his behalf, his attorneys requested an emergency court order, alleging that Wilma lacked the capacity to make her own medical decisions, that Erin was not acting in her best interests, and that one of Wilma's children should be appointed as her legal guardian. Wilma was furious when she learned of his actions, but there was little she could do to stop him until she was discharged from the hospital. Both sides knew that her doctor's recommendation would hold a lot of weight with the judge, and it was not good news for Wilma when it came. "If Mrs. Anderson is to return home, she will require around-the-clock care and company. If such care can't be arranged, then I recommend that she be placed in a long-term assisted-living facility that can treat any lingering effects from her fall, and from her late-stage cancer." Erin took the news like a physical blow, and she staggered backward to a chair. We didn't have the resources for 24-hour nursing, and it would be impossible to arrange it with such short notice even if we did. "I'm sorry, Davis. I need to be alone for a while to think." She left without looking back or saying goodbye to Wilma, and I just let her go. I wanted to ease her pain, but I knew that there was nothing I could do. She had lost, and her family had won. I was despondent as I made my way towards the exit, so much so that I nearly ran into Alison who was finishing up her shift at the hospital. "You look terrible, Brother, what happened? Is Wilma alright?" I explained to her about the doctor's recommendation and Erin's reaction. "No one has had the heart to tell Wilma, yet. She's recovered from the fall, but this news is going to kill her." Alison looked at me for a minute, before her mouth quirked upwards in a smile. "I'll do it." "What do you mean? "I'll do it. I'll look after Wilma. I am wrapping up my clinical practicum tomorrow, and I was planning on working this summer. I will look after Wilma instead. Mary can move in with us as well, and I can teach her what she needs to know to care for her when I'm not there. Once her school year is done in June, she and I can spell each other off, and I can still pick up some shifts here and there." It was an amazing offer, but I couldn't let her do it. "Alison, I can't ask you to give up your job for the summer. You need that money for your living expenses at school." "You're not asking; I'm offering. And since you've paid for my tuition so far, I am debt-free and can take out a loan to cover my last term." "I didn't cover the tuition, it was your;" "Davis. Really? Our mother, who never met a five-dollar bill she couldn't snort or inject, left me a college fund? Please. I am not an idiot. I love you, Big Brother, and I love what you have done for me and the others, but it's my time to step up now as well. Let me do this." I felt a heaviness lift from my chest as I hugged Alison and lifted her off her feet. I tried to reach Erin to let her know about Alison's offer, but I drove to her apartment, and she wasn't there, and she must have turned her phone off. I figured she must have gone to Wilma's, so I headed that way. I pulled in just as the sun was setting and found her SUV parked in the laneway, crosshatched by the lengthening shadows of the trees. I parked and saw a lone figure at the end of the dock, still wearing her scrubs. I could see whitecaps on the waves as they smashed into the dock, and I knew she must be freezing, so I grabbed my jacket out of the back of the truck and went to join her. The footing was treacherous, with patches of ice hidden by the gloom and spray, but I made my way carefully to Erin and wrapped my jacket around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned back against me. "Am I doing the right thing, Davis? Gran could have died. She would have died if not for you. Can we risk that happening again? Am I just holding on to the past?" When she was finished, Erin lapsed into silence. "You are doing what Wilma asked you to do. I know your stepfather says that she isn't mentally competent, but I tell you, if she's not mentally competent then none of us are." "But it doesn't make a difference anymore. You heard what the doctor said, and I can't go against her recommendation." "You don't have to, Erin. Alison has offered to move in with Wilma to look after her, and she will teach Mary to look after her as well. Between the two of them, Wilma can stay in the house until the fall, at least, and then we can see." Erin turned towards me in her excitement but lost her footing on the slippery dock and fell backward into the water, pulling me with her. Now, in the summer, that kind of accident might be cause for some laughter and an embarrassing story around the dinner table. In late April, however, spending any time in the frigid waters of Lake Michigan could rapidly prove fatal. The shock from the cold when Erin hit the water caused her to gasp involuntarily, and she took in a mouthful. I had a half-second longer to prepare myself and managed to keep my mouth closed as I submerged, but I could immediately feel the cold in my extremities. The ladder that would normally have been at the end of the dock had been taken out for the winter, so we had no choice but to make for shore. Time compressed as I struggled to pull us through the water while Erin coughed and vomited. Finally, we dragged ourselves onto the shore, wet and shivering. I felt clumsy and weak from the cold, and my clothes felt like they weighed a hundred pounds, but I wrapped my arm around Erin's waist, and we started stumbling toward the house. By the time we got there, we were both shivering uncontrollably and my hands were numb from the cold. I knew we needed to get warm, but it was like my brain was in a fog and I couldn't get my limbs to move the way they were supposed to. So, I did the first thing that came to mind, and started feeding paper and kindling into the fireplace, while Erin went to the linen closet and grabbed a stack of towels. She stripped off her wet scrubs while I got the fire started, and then she helped me get undressed as well. When I felt a little feeling return to my fingers, I fed a larger log onto the fire and then went and got a large comforter which I wrapped around us as we shivered in front of the fire. Eventually, our shivering subsided as our bodies warmed up, and Erin laid her head back against my chest. "I'm not ready for her to go. I'm not ready to be all alone again." "You're not alone anymore; not unless you want to be. I love you, Erin." I felt her relax back against me. "I love you too, Davis, and I'm sorry." "For what?" "For pulling you into the lake like a dumbass; fuck, that was cold." Chapter 6. Wilma's family insisted on taking their emergency petition to court, over Wilma's continued objections, but once the judge learned that Alison, a trained nurse, was going to be staying with her, their decision was an easy one. And let me tell you, Wilma's mind was still sharp as ever, and she made it clear both to her doctors and, eventually, to her family and the judge, that she wanted to go home. Erin's stepfather was beside himself with anger after they lost the hearing. "Why do you insist on delaying the inevitable like this? Wilma is dying. We know it, she knows it, the doctors know it. You're the only one who won't accept it. She would get better care in a facility with real nurses here in town, rather than relying on a student, a little girl, and whatever time you can give her at home. The next time she has a crisis maybe we won't get so lucky, and it will be on your head." Outwardly, Erin looked as smooth and unbothered as glass as her stepfather screamed at her, but her hand was squeezing mine so hard that I thought she might break a bone. Luckily, before I could say anything to make matters worse, Wilma intervened. "What is it that makes you so damn sure that you know what's best for everyone else? You're right, I'm dying. There is nothing that anyone can do about that. If I happen to fall again and speed the process along, so be it. But don't you dare pretend that you care one iota about my health or happiness, or your stepdaughter's happiness for that matter. The only thing you care about is getting your wife's inheritance faster. Is your business doing so badly that you can't wait until I die? It seemed like she had scored a direct hit, as his face turned solid red as he started to stammer out a response, but she dismissed him before he could even begin. "Now go away and leave us in peace. You will be back here for my funeral soon enough, and no one wants you hovering around, hoping to speed it up." A week later, Wilma was released from the hospital, and we brought her back home. Alison moved in right away, along with Munchkin, and Mary soon followed. On most days, James would come by to pick Mary up for school and then drop her back afterward. Alison stayed with Wilma during the day, and Mary covered most of the evenings. Erin came by to help whenever she could, and I did my best to keep them stocked with supplies. It wasn't perfect, but it worked and, more importantly, it made Wilma happy. She didn't talk much about her cancer, but it was clear that it was getting worse. Mary noticed that she was eating less and resting more and that she had begun to take her pain pills in the morning as well as in the evening before she went to bed. Wilma was still adamant that she wanted to stay in her home, however, and continued to teach Mary all she could about art and life. In early June, I had stopped by to visit Wilma and the girls late in the afternoon and I was still there when James dropped Mary off from school. He escorted her into the house but then stood awkwardly in the entranceway rather than leaving. "Mr. Crawford, could we talk for a minute, if you have the time?" I shook my head in amusement. No matter how many times I told him to just call me Davis, Mr. Crawford, I remained. "Sure, I was just finishing up with Wilma," I replied as I gave Wilma a gentle hug. She felt more like a bird at that point than a person, just skin hanging on fragile bones held together by her indomitable will. James looked worried as we went outside. "This may not be any of my business, but yesterday, when I got home from school, Calum and my dad were on a conference call with some officials from the county and Wilma's son and one of her granddaughters, the lawyer. I didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything, but they were on speaker, and it was loud enough that I could hear them in the kitchen. "They were saying that when Wilma dies, her estate is being divided up equally amongst all of the children and grandchildren, but there is a part of the will that states that the land by the lake can't be sold or developed. From the sounds of it, however, once Wilma is gone, the county is going to seize that land, using eminent domain, to create a public boat launch, since Wilma's dock is the only four-season dock for at least ten miles in either direction. They will fix it up and then sell the rest of the land to the McDougals for development. "So, Wilma's family will get their money when the county forces the sale, and the McDougals will get their land. The only person left who might make a fuss would be Erin, but they figure she will fall in line once she sees the big fat check from the county." Listening to James' story made my blood boil. I hated the kinds of rich pricks who used their money and their purchased politicians to run roughshod over the rest of us. I just wasn't sure if there was anything that we could do to stop them. I thanked James for the heads up and went to speak with Wilma once he left. I expected Wilma to be as filled with rage at her family's treachery as I was, but she seemed remarkably calm about the whole thing. "Thank you for sharing this with me and thank James for his candor. He must have been deeply conflicted between his loyalty to his family, and his desire to do the right thing. Now, as to what we are going to do about this, we are going to do nothing. I don't want you to mention this to Erin or Mary, it will just worry them and make them upset. And you have more important things to do than to rage against a bunch of duplicitous assholes. Leave this one with me. "Now, why don't you go outside, take that shirt off, and start chopping some wood or something equally manly? Erin will be here soon, and you know how she likes to see you when you have worked up a sweat." I didn't know exactly what Wilma had planned, but for the next few days, she spent a lot of time on the phone. Towards the end of June, a very well-dressed older man in a tailored suit was leaving her house just as I was pulling in. It was clear that he had been there before since Munchkin ignored him and came over to give me an enthusiastic greeting instead. The man gave me a friendly smile as he put his briefcase in his top-of-the-line Lexus SUV before walking over to introduce himself. "Brantford Sage," he said holding out his hand. "You must be Mr. Crawford. Wilma has told me a lot about you. With everything she said, I was kind of expecting you to be seven feet tall and wearing a cape." I laughed at the image. "It's nice that she thinks so highly of me, but she gives me too much credit. And please call me Davis." "Well, Davis, and please call me Brantford, I have known Wilma for more years than you have been alive, and I have never heard her talk about anyone the way that she talks about you, except for Phillip, of course. And we all know how she felt about Phillip." I knew that it was none of my business why Mr. Sage was visiting Wilma, but my desire to protect her overrode any hesitation on my part about speaking out. "I am sorry if it's rude of me to ask, Mr. Sage, but what is your business here with Wilma? As you may know, her own family, along with a local family of some prominence, have been waging a campaign to get Wilma to sell this land. You are not here on their behalf, are you?" "I can assure you, Davis, that I am only here as a favor to Wilma. I normally split my time between our offices in Detroit, New York, and London, but when Wilma calls, I make it a priority to answer. I am sorry that I can't say more about my business here, attorney-client privilege, but you can ask her yourself if you would like." "It's all good. Wilma is still sharp as a tack, and even if she has lost a step or two, she is still twice as smart and four times as wise as I will ever be." "Well, I should be going. But sadly, I am sure I will see you again, soon enough." By the end of the summer, it was clear that Wilma's adventures were almost done. When she worked with Mary, she would often fall asleep in the comfortable chair in the corner. She had never had a large appetite, but recently, it had dwindled almost to nothing. Erin was very worried and suggested that it was time to move her Gran into hospice, but Wilma wouldn't hear of it. "This house has been my home for more than 60 years; I am not going to leave it now. It would miss me too much, and I can't have my home pining away over me. There is nothing more depressing than a sad home." Even Munchkin, the dog with boundless energy, became more subdued and often sat a quiet watch over Wilma while she slept. Finally, on the last Sunday of August, I got the call I had been dreading. I could hear Mary's voice on the other end of the line, holding back tears. "Gran says she's too tired and it's time to stop fighting. She told me to call you and Erin, and ask you to come;" I could hear the sobs building in her as she spoke, "to say goodbye." "Is James there with you, Mary?" "I called him. He's on his way." "I will call Erin and then go and pick her up. She won't be in any condition to drive." I figured the odds of there being a speed trap on the highway to Petoskey before 7 AM on a Sunday were slim to none, so I made it to Erin's apartment in record time. She must have been watching for me out of her window, as she threw herself into my arms before I was fully out of the truck. "I am so sorry, Honey," was all I could say, and I just held her in silence until the waves of grief that wracked her body had subsided. "We should get going," I said, not knowing what else to say. Maybe I should have told her that "Everything would be alright," but I suspected that it would be a while before that was true. But that was okay. People grieve in their own time. Erin held my hand tightly as we started the drive to Wilma's. "Why don't you tell me some of your favorite memories with your Gran and Grampy?" Erin remained silent for a few minutes, but once she started talking, the floodgates opened wide. She told me about the first time that her parents dropped her at the airport when she was only seven. How scared she was of these strange older people she didn't know. Phillip had seen her fear, and rather than trying to comfort her; how do you comfort a child whose parents have abandoned them; he had taken her for a long walk down by the lake. She remembered the sound of the wind blowing off the lake, as Phillip told her stories about their past. She remembered the summers she spent with Gran and Grampy as a teen. By that point, she had grown into a beautiful young woman, and her parents wanted to show her off to their important friends in Europe and places further afield. But she had already chosen to spend her time with the people that she loved. She spoke of coming to see them when she was in college. Of the awful year that Phillip got sick, and her grief at his passing. She said that her parents came to Good Hart for the funeral, but it felt like she and Gran were the only people to truly grieve his loss. She fell silent as we pulled into Wilma's laneway. "Go and see your Gran. Let me know what you need, Honey. I am here for you." Despite her grief, Erin looked at me as she took my hand. "What about you? What do you need, Davis? You love her too." "People show their love in different ways. I never really got the chance to give or receive love as a child, at least not in the way that most of us think of it. But being with you has made me realize something important about myself; I take care of the people I love. So, let me take care of you, Mary, and Wilma, one final time." By that point, Mary and Munchkin had come outside. Mary's eyes were red, and you could see the tracks that her tears had left on her cheeks. I got out of the truck and just held her for a minute. Erin came up behind me and enveloped her as well. Munchkin, mourning in his own way, stood watch for us, keeping us safe as we grieved. "Mary, you don't have to be here for the end if it's too hard. You can say goodbye, then take the truck and go and meet James. We can let you know when it's over." She just shook her head. "Where is she?" Mary led us into the living room. The wisp that remained of Wilma was in the comfortable chair by the fire. She had been a very small woman when we met less than a year before, but now she looked almost ethereal. Like the wind could slip right through her collecting her stories as it passed. She beckoned me over with one of her curled hands. "Davis, I am glad that you're here. I know I am a greedy old biddy, but I have three favors to ask, and I don't have a lot of time left to do the asking." "Of course, Wilma. You know I would do anything for you and Erin." She closed her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts. "The first favor is that I need some time alone with my girls. I am sure James will be here in a minute; he is a good boy, don't hold those assholes in his family against him. He loves our Mary. Go outside, and when he arrives, I want you to go down to the lake and set up the five Adirondack chairs, so they are all together and facing out over the water. Then come back up to me." "Of course, Wilma." I went outside and sat on the front steps, scratching Munchkin's ears as I waited. James pulled up less than ten minutes later and I explained what had happened, and Wilma's request. When we were finished at the lake, we walked back up to the house, with Munchkin following quietly on our heels. We let ourselves in and saw Wilma, Erin, and Mary pulled together in an embrace. I was hesitant to interrupt, but Wilma saw us and called us over. "There's your big, strong men. Girls, could you get some of the outdoor blankets for James to carry down to the lake for us? And Davis, my second favor is for you to carry me down to the lake one last time. Would the rest of you give us a few minutes before you follow?" I picked Wilma up from the chair and wrapped her in my arms. She felt almost weightless, but I saw hints of her mischievous smile as we started walking. "You know, the last time a man carried me like this, the journey ended very differently." I couldn't help but smile, even at the end Wilma was still quick with the teasing and innuendo. "I bet you wish it was that other man carrying you now," I joked in return, but Wilma just rested her head against my chest. "No. No, I don't, Davis. I will see that other man soon enough. I am well content to be here with you. I am so proud of you. You are such a good and faithful man. It is a lot to ask of you, but for my third favor, will you look after my girls when I am gone?" By that point, we had reached the shore, and I set Wilma down in the middle chair of the five. "You don't need to ask, Wilma. Of course, I will look after them. Because you asked it of me, and because I love them just like you do." Wilma smiled and reached out to take my hand while she pressed three small objects into my palm. I looked down and saw that she had removed her engagement and wedding rings and given them to me. They were joined by an almost identical wedding band that must have belonged to Phillip before he passed. "You will know when the time is right for these. I would have liked to have been there to see it, though. Through these rings, maybe Phillip and I can continue to be a small part of your love for each other, even once we're gone." James and the girls had started down the path to the lake and would reach us in a minute. Before they arrived, Wilma gave me a final serious look. "All hell is going to break loose when they read my will after the funeral. Be there for Erin, please. The mistakes I made with my children are all my fault, but Erin will be left to bear that weight for a little while longer once I'm gone. It would mean a lot to a dying woman to know that she won't have to carry that weight alone." "I'll share that weight with her, for as long as she needs. For as long as she will let me." Wilma patted my hand. "That's good. I love you, Davis, but I think it's time." Mary and Erin arrived with James, and they made sure that Wilma was bundled in warm blankets as she looked out over the lake. Mary and Erin sat on either side of her and held her hands, while James and I sat at the ends. Munchkin settled against Wilma's feet, to keep them warm. After a while, Wilma started talking. She told stories about her life with Phillip; how they met, when they first came to this place, building a home, and raising their family. She spoke of their success as artists, and their failures as parents. She spoke of her regrets but also about her deep love for Erin and Mary, and how much she appreciated what they had done for her. She paused for a moment as the wind began to pick up, but we heard her last words before the wind carried the rest away. "You are all artists, and you are all worthy of love." She fell silent, and we sat for a long while listening to the wind off the lake. Epilogue. As always, Wilma was right. The reading of her will did indeed set off a firestorm, but she had made sure that we were ready for it. Do you remember Mr. Sage, that man in the suit who came to visit Wilma not too long before she passed? It turns out that he wasn't just an old friend, he was also a named partner at the largest law firm in the state and one of the most powerful firms in the country. It seems that Phillip didn't just paint portraits for the richest family in the state (you would recognize their name from the hospitals, museums, and other cultural institutions where it is featured prominently), but he also became a close family friend. You would never have known it, though, since Phillip refused to even acknowledge their friendship in public so that he didn't inadvertently trade on their name. Mr. Sage was also a good friend of that family and, over the years, became close with Wilma and Phillip, as well. After James told Wilma his story, she called those old family friends and, for the first time in their long friendship, asked for their help. She would never have done so for her own benefit, but she couldn't bear to think that Phillip's legacy would be lost because of the greed and treachery of his children. Within a day, Mr. Sage was working on a solution to Wilma's problem, and everything was signed and sealed well before Wilma passed on. The day of the reading of the will would have been comic if it hadn't also been so tragic. In the weeks after Wilma's death, her remaining children and grandchildren had gathered to express their deep sadness at her passing. Many black outfits were worn, and many sad faces were made. Not surprisingly, the entire McDougal family also showed up both to the funeral and to the smaller gathering at Wilma's house afterward. James stood with Mary, his arm around her shoulder, both to comfort her and to protect her from his own family, as best he could. The rest of the McDougal clan stood with Wilma's family and made sure to avail themselves of the free wine and hors d'oeuvres. As per her wishes, Wilma was cremated, and her ashes were scattered from the deck behind her house so that the wind could carry them towards the lake. Again, as per her wishes, the will was read immediately thereafter. The first surprise of the day came when Mr. Sage, who everyone thought was there merely to express his condolences at Wilma's passing, informed the family lawyers that the will in their possession had been revoked earlier that year. Both Wilma's family and their lawyers began to protest until the man formally introduced himself as a named partner at Sage, Bentley, and Carstairs, and as the new executor of Wilma's estate. The second surprise was the size and extent of that estate. The property by the lake was considerably larger than anyone had known and included a number of additional houses and cottages that Wilma and Phillip had acquired over the years. Unlike the previous will, however, that had left an equal share of the land to each of Wilma's descendants, the new one protected the entire property, in perpetuity, as part of a land trust that was established for the benefit and use of artists, local residents and even the Fudgies, when summer came to the lower peninsula. As part of the land trust, the dock was to be extended and reinforced and a public boat landing and park were to be built and maintained on the land, again, in perpetuity. Erin and I were named as trustees of the land trust, along with Mr. Sage and Mary, when she came of age. Given Michigan's strict laws around the use of eminent domain for private gain, there was no chance that the McDougals and the county would be able to move forward with their plans to seize the land. The third and final surprise was that Wilma and Phillip had done much better with the sale of their art and with their investments over the years than anyone had thought or expected. In addition to the property that was now in the trust, they had amassed a fortune in the low eight figures. Most of that money was left to manage the land trust, but a not inconsiderable amount was set aside to fund the college education of my brother and sisters and to pay off Erin's considerable student debt from medical school. The will also stipulated that the estate would pay for any costs that Wilma's family had incurred to attend the funeral (with receipts, of course.) Wilma's paintings were left to the public gallery in Grand Rapids and galleries further afield, with a few notable exceptions. Mary was given three paintings of her choice from the collection, that weren't otherwise named in the will. After much thought and consideration, she chose both the first and last works that Wilma had painted, both of which had been hanging in the living room, along with a small study of the house that Wilma kept in her bedroom beside a picture of Phillip and her on their wedding day. Erin was given Phillip's portrait of her as a young woman, and that portrait still hangs above our mantelpiece alongside his portrait of Wilma as a young woman, which she left to me. The only time they left our mantelpiece was when they were featured in a retrospective exhibit of their work at a museum in New York, but the house felt strangely empty when they were gone. Erin's family was furious at the changes in the new will. They threatened to fight it with every resource at their disposal. They tried every dirty trick they could think of, questioning Wilma's mental capacity in the months before her death, fighting the legality of the land trust, and trying to impugn our characters implying that we were gold diggers who wormed our way into Wilma's life to steal the family inheritance. In the end, though, the family's lawyers were no match for Brantford and his firm. When none of their ploys worked, Erin's family and the McDougals turned on each other, and the ensuing lawsuits are still ongoing to this day. I would love to say that that was the end of the McDougals, or that Erin's family came around in the end. Unfortunately, they are still just as terrible as ever. But at least their arrogance and corruption are now far enough away that we can safely ignore them. On a similar note, my mother is still absent from our lives. I don't honestly know if she is even still alive, although I assume that someone would have tried to find her next of kin if she had died. Sometimes, I am charitable and hope that she managed to face her demons and turn what's left of her life around. But most of the time, I am just glad that she is no longer able to hurt the people I love. After things settled down, Alison finished her schooling and became a nurse practitioner, as she had always dreamed of. In her last year of study, while she was doing a clinical practicum at a hospital in Detroit, she met a lovely internist who fell madly in love with her. Luckily for him, his feelings were reciprocated, and they are now married and living in Grand Rapids. They split their holidays between our family and her husband's family in Detroit, and they stay with us for a few weeks each summer. Their son is as thick as thieves with our daughter, and their imagination carries them through endless adventures together. Sharon was successful in her ambition to leave the peninsula and see more of the world. She finished her undergraduate degree in creative writing in Chicago before setting out to see the world, and she is still out there wandering. But she sends us lots of pictures when she gets the chance, and recently, Erin noticed that many of her pictures have the same very attractive woman smiling in the background. I think it was probably a coincidence, but Erin thinks otherwise. I sure hope Erin's right. There is nothing I want more than for my family to find love and happiness. When the spirit moves her to come home to us (with or without her friend), she will be very welcome. Mary spent months grieving her loss, but rather than turning inward, she channeled her emotions into a triptych of paintings that firmly established her as an upcoming talent in the world of art. She lived with us for several years until James proposed, at which point they moved into one of the cottages owned by the trust. Unfortunately, James' family found out that he told Wilma about their plans, and they disowned him. He had a few tough years, but Mary helped him through, and when he turned eighteen, I took him on as an apprentice. He now runs one of my crews. I used to worry that he loved Mary more than she loved him and that the imbalance would lead to heartache. My worries were put to rest when she painted her first portrait. James was her subject, and I have never seen a painting more suffused with love and desire. A few years later, a collector offered her an eye-watering amount of money for it, but she politely declined. As for Lane, well who knows what he will do with his life, but he is carrying a 4.0 GPA, and the world is his oyster. He was sure impressed by the lawyers who rained hellfire down on the McDougals, though, so I suspect that he might be leaning that way in the future. He is also building quite a following as a DJ, combining classics from the 40's and 50's with new beats. He recently started dating a new girl, and she is a real sweetheart. We haven't told her about the day that he met Erin for the first time; yet. But trust me, that time will come. But until it does, Lane is more than happy to keep up with his chores and help out around the house. But what he loves more than anything is to carry his rod out to the end of the dock and fish, while the wind off the lake plays through his hair. And then there is Erin and me. I have to say that things have worked out pretty well for us, in the end. It took less than a year for me to make use of Wilma's last gifts, and Erin and I were married the next summer in the new park down by the dock. Wilma left her house and a few acres of land to Erin, separate from the land trust, and we spent several years fixing it up and expanding it so that my brother and sisters know that there is always a place for them if they need it; for a day, a week, or a lifetime. I am still not the best at taking orders or following instructions; but gentle requests from the woman that I love, sealed with a kiss on my cheek? It turns out that I am more than fine with those. And I am still not always sure what a beautiful doctor sees in a plumber like me. But rather than let my insecurity get the better of me, I have learned to accept my good fortune with a smile. One tradition that we've adopted as our own is that we make time to dance together every Friday night. If we have guests, or family who are home, they know that they will be joining us as well; Wilma's 'no wallflowers' rule is still in full effect. Now that she is old enough, I am teaching our daughter to dance, and her favorite thing in the world is to twirl around the living room in her mommy and daddy's arms. Some nights, when it's just the three of us and our daughter has gone to bed, we let the soft crackle of Wilma's old 45s take us back. We dance together with the lights down low, the music threading through the quiet night like a whisper from the past. And when the music fades, we hold each other close and listen to the voices of those we have loved, as they linger in the wind off the lake. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 4 Finding real love, at last. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. Driving home the next day felt like waking up from some kind of dream until I pulled into our driveway and Munchkin came running out to greet me. As I was getting out to reassure him that he hadn't been abandoned, the reality of my life settled right back in. I went inside, and Lane and Mary grunted their hellos without looking up. Ah, home. I texted Erin that I made it back safely, and she replied almost immediately saying what a great night she had, and how much she missed me already. It was going to be a long three weeks until she rotated back to the hospital in Petoskey. Luckily, life was as busy as always, and time flew by. For the first time since I was a child, I could honestly say that I was happy. My happiness lasted until the day before Erin was scheduled to return. I got my first inkling that something might be wrong when I called to see if Wilma wanted me to pick up any groceries for her from town. She didn't answer, which was strange, and the call went to voicemail. Even if she was napping, she was a very light sleeper and would normally answer by the third ring. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I went straight to Wilma's to make sure she was alright. Everything seemed fine when I pulled into the yard, but there was no answer when I knocked on her door. I tried again, but there was nothing but an eerie silence. Fearing the worst, I grabbed the spare key from its hiding place and went inside. I called Wilma's name and, hearing no reply, went quickly through the house trying to find her. When I got to her bedroom, I could hear a low moaning sound from the attached washroom. I ran in and found Wilma collapsed by the bathtub. She had slipped and hit her head, injuring her hip and arm in the process. She didn't have her phone with her when she fell and had been unable to move, so who knows how long she had been lying there. I called 911 for an ambulance and then called Erin and suggested that she meet us at the hospital. It took forever for the paramedics to arrive, and longer still to get Wilma loaded into the ambulance. By the time I got to the hospital, she was already being triaged by their emergency team. I took a few minutes while I waited for an update on Wilma's condition to call the rest of the family and give them the news. Alison came directly to the hospital after class, and Sharon brought Mary and Lane as soon as they got home from school. Erin arrived a few hours later and broke down when she saw me. Finally, just after nine, the doctors gave Erin an update. Wilma was in rough shape; she was badly dehydrated and had a moderate concussion, a fractured wrist, and a bone bruise on her hip. It would take her weeks to recover in the hospital. The good news was that she would make a recovery, given enough time and support. Erin and Mary decided to stay with Wilma in the hospital while Sharon dropped Alison at her dorm and drove Lane back to the house. By midnight, Mary had nodded off in a chair in the corner of Wilma's room, while I waited outside with Erin. "You should go home, Davis. There's nothing else you can do tonight. Thank God, you found her; I am not sure what I would have done if you hadn't. I already lost Grampy; I am not ready to lose Gran as well. They are all I have." I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her close. "You have me, now, too. And the girls. And you know Lane would do anything for you, you just need to ask. I was serious about what I said in Grand Rapids, Erin. I love you." Erin pulled me closer but didn't reply. The following week was a rollercoaster of emotions. Wilma was improving far quicker than the doctors had anticipated, but she would still be in rehab for at least another two weeks. It was impossible to hide Wilma's accident from the rest of the family, and they descended on the hospital like vultures; or, more accurately, their lawyers descended on the hospital while, for the most part, they stayed far away where it was warm. The one exception was Erin's stepfather, who flew in the next day. "For Christ's sake, Erin. Haven't you done enough harm as it is? Do you want your Gran to die alone on the floor of that dingy old shack of hers? It's time for her to move into a care facility that can look after her. Be reasonable!" When he failed to persuade Erin to act on his behalf, his attorneys requested an emergency court order, alleging that Wilma lacked the capacity to make her own medical decisions, that Erin was not acting in her best interests, and that one of Wilma's children should be appointed as her legal guardian. Wilma was furious when she learned of his actions, but there was little she could do to stop him until she was discharged from the hospital. Both sides knew that her doctor's recommendation would hold a lot of weight with the judge, and it was not good news for Wilma when it came. "If Mrs. Anderson is to return home, she will require around-the-clock care and company. If such care can't be arranged, then I recommend that she be placed in a long-term assisted-living facility that can treat any lingering effects from her fall, and from her late-stage cancer." Erin took the news like a physical blow, and she staggered backward to a chair. We didn't have the resources for 24-hour nursing, and it would be impossible to arrange it with such short notice even if we did. "I'm sorry, Davis. I need to be alone for a while to think." She left without looking back or saying goodbye to Wilma, and I just let her go. I wanted to ease her pain, but I knew that there was nothing I could do. She had lost, and her family had won. I was despondent as I made my way towards the exit, so much so that I nearly ran into Alison who was finishing up her shift at the hospital. "You look terrible, Brother, what happened? Is Wilma alright?" I explained to her about the doctor's recommendation and Erin's reaction. "No one has had the heart to tell Wilma, yet. She's recovered from the fall, but this news is going to kill her." Alison looked at me for a minute, before her mouth quirked upwards in a smile. "I'll do it." "What do you mean? "I'll do it. I'll look after Wilma. I am wrapping up my clinical practicum tomorrow, and I was planning on working this summer. I will look after Wilma instead. Mary can move in with us as well, and I can teach her what she needs to know to care for her when I'm not there. Once her school year is done in June, she and I can spell each other off, and I can still pick up some shifts here and there." It was an amazing offer, but I couldn't let her do it. "Alison, I can't ask you to give up your job for the summer. You need that money for your living expenses at school." "You're not asking; I'm offering. And since you've paid for my tuition so far, I am debt-free and can take out a loan to cover my last term." "I didn't cover the tuition, it was your;" "Davis. Really? Our mother, who never met a five-dollar bill she couldn't snort or inject, left me a college fund? Please. I am not an idiot. I love you, Big Brother, and I love what you have done for me and the others, but it's my time to step up now as well. Let me do this." I felt a heaviness lift from my chest as I hugged Alison and lifted her off her feet. I tried to reach Erin to let her know about Alison's offer, but I drove to her apartment, and she wasn't there, and she must have turned her phone off. I figured she must have gone to Wilma's, so I headed that way. I pulled in just as the sun was setting and found her SUV parked in the laneway, crosshatched by the lengthening shadows of the trees. I parked and saw a lone figure at the end of the dock, still wearing her scrubs. I could see whitecaps on the waves as they smashed into the dock, and I knew she must be freezing, so I grabbed my jacket out of the back of the truck and went to join her. The footing was treacherous, with patches of ice hidden by the gloom and spray, but I made my way carefully to Erin and wrapped my jacket around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned back against me. "Am I doing the right thing, Davis? Gran could have died. She would have died if not for you. Can we risk that happening again? Am I just holding on to the past?" When she was finished, Erin lapsed into silence. "You are doing what Wilma asked you to do. I know your stepfather says that she isn't mentally competent, but I tell you, if she's not mentally competent then none of us are." "But it doesn't make a difference anymore. You heard what the doctor said, and I can't go against her recommendation." "You don't have to, Erin. Alison has offered to move in with Wilma to look after her, and she will teach Mary to look after her as well. Between the two of them, Wilma can stay in the house until the fall, at least, and then we can see." Erin turned towards me in her excitement but lost her footing on the slippery dock and fell backward into the water, pulling me with her. Now, in the summer, that kind of accident might be cause for some laughter and an embarrassing story around the dinner table. In late April, however, spending any time in the frigid waters of Lake Michigan could rapidly prove fatal. The shock from the cold when Erin hit the water caused her to gasp involuntarily, and she took in a mouthful. I had a half-second longer to prepare myself and managed to keep my mouth closed as I submerged, but I could immediately feel the cold in my extremities. The ladder that would normally have been at the end of the dock had been taken out for the winter, so we had no choice but to make for shore. Time compressed as I struggled to pull us through the water while Erin coughed and vomited. Finally, we dragged ourselves onto the shore, wet and shivering. I felt clumsy and weak from the cold, and my clothes felt like they weighed a hundred pounds, but I wrapped my arm around Erin's waist, and we started stumbling toward the house. By the time we got there, we were both shivering uncontrollably and my hands were numb from the cold. I knew we needed to get warm, but it was like my brain was in a fog and I couldn't get my limbs to move the way they were supposed to. So, I did the first thing that came to mind, and started feeding paper and kindling into the fireplace, while Erin went to the linen closet and grabbed a stack of towels. She stripped off her wet scrubs while I got the fire started, and then she helped me get undressed as well. When I felt a little feeling return to my fingers, I fed a larger log onto the fire and then went and got a large comforter which I wrapped around us as we shivered in front of the fire. Eventually, our shivering subsided as our bodies warmed up, and Erin laid her head back against my chest. "I'm not ready for her to go. I'm not ready to be all alone again." "You're not alone anymore; not unless you want to be. I love you, Erin." I felt her relax back against me. "I love you too, Davis, and I'm sorry." "For what?" "For pulling you into the lake like a dumbass; fuck, that was cold." Chapter 6. Wilma's family insisted on taking their emergency petition to court, over Wilma's continued objections, but once the judge learned that Alison, a trained nurse, was going to be staying with her, their decision was an easy one. And let me tell you, Wilma's mind was still sharp as ever, and she made it clear both to her doctors and, eventually, to her family and the judge, that she wanted to go home. Erin's stepfather was beside himself with anger after they lost the hearing. "Why do you insist on delaying the inevitable like this? Wilma is dying. We know it, she knows it, the doctors know it. You're the only one who won't accept it. She would get better care in a facility with real nurses here in town, rather than relying on a student, a little girl, and whatever time you can give her at home. The next time she has a crisis maybe we won't get so lucky, and it will be on your head." Outwardly, Erin looked as smooth and unbothered as glass as her stepfather screamed at her, but her hand was squeezing mine so hard that I thought she might break a bone. Luckily, before I could say anything to make matters worse, Wilma intervened. "What is it that makes you so damn sure that you know what's best for everyone else? You're right, I'm dying. There is nothing that anyone can do about that. If I happen to fall again and speed the process along, so be it. But don't you dare pretend that you care one iota about my health or happiness, or your stepdaughter's happiness for that matter. The only thing you care about is getting your wife's inheritance faster. Is your business doing so badly that you can't wait until I die? It seemed like she had scored a direct hit, as his face turned solid red as he started to stammer out a response, but she dismissed him before he could even begin. "Now go away and leave us in peace. You will be back here for my funeral soon enough, and no one wants you hovering around, hoping to speed it up." A week later, Wilma was released from the hospital, and we brought her back home. Alison moved in right away, along with Munchkin, and Mary soon followed. On most days, James would come by to pick Mary up for school and then drop her back afterward. Alison stayed with Wilma during the day, and Mary covered most of the evenings. Erin came by to help whenever she could, and I did my best to keep them stocked with supplies. It wasn't perfect, but it worked and, more importantly, it made Wilma happy. She didn't talk much about her cancer, but it was clear that it was getting worse. Mary noticed that she was eating less and resting more and that she had begun to take her pain pills in the morning as well as in the evening before she went to bed. Wilma was still adamant that she wanted to stay in her home, however, and continued to teach Mary all she could about art and life. In early June, I had stopped by to visit Wilma and the girls late in the afternoon and I was still there when James dropped Mary off from school. He escorted her into the house but then stood awkwardly in the entranceway rather than leaving. "Mr. Crawford, could we talk for a minute, if you have the time?" I shook my head in amusement. No matter how many times I told him to just call me Davis, Mr. Crawford, I remained. "Sure, I was just finishing up with Wilma," I replied as I gave Wilma a gentle hug. She felt more like a bird at that point than a person, just skin hanging on fragile bones held together by her indomitable will. James looked worried as we went outside. "This may not be any of my business, but yesterday, when I got home from school, Calum and my dad were on a conference call with some officials from the county and Wilma's son and one of her granddaughters, the lawyer. I didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything, but they were on speaker, and it was loud enough that I could hear them in the kitchen. "They were saying that when Wilma dies, her estate is being divided up equally amongst all of the children and grandchildren, but there is a part of the will that states that the land by the lake can't be sold or developed. From the sounds of it, however, once Wilma is gone, the county is going to seize that land, using eminent domain, to create a public boat launch, since Wilma's dock is the only four-season dock for at least ten miles in either direction. They will fix it up and then sell the rest of the land to the McDougals for development. "So, Wilma's family will get their money when the county forces the sale, and the McDougals will get their land. The only person left who might make a fuss would be Erin, but they figure she will fall in line once she sees the big fat check from the county." Listening to James' story made my blood boil. I hated the kinds of rich pricks who used their money and their purchased politicians to run roughshod over the rest of us. I just wasn't sure if there was anything that we could do to stop them. I thanked James for the heads up and went to speak with Wilma once he left. I expected Wilma to be as filled with rage at her family's treachery as I was, but she seemed remarkably calm about the whole thing. "Thank you for sharing this with me and thank James for his candor. He must have been deeply conflicted between his loyalty to his family, and his desire to do the right thing. Now, as to what we are going to do about this, we are going to do nothing. I don't want you to mention this to Erin or Mary, it will just worry them and make them upset. And you have more important things to do than to rage against a bunch of duplicitous assholes. Leave this one with me. "Now, why don't you go outside, take that shirt off, and start chopping some wood or something equally manly? Erin will be here soon, and you know how she likes to see you when you have worked up a sweat." I didn't know exactly what Wilma had planned, but for the next few days, she spent a lot of time on the phone. Towards the end of June, a very well-dressed older man in a tailored suit was leaving her house just as I was pulling in. It was clear that he had been there before since Munchkin ignored him and came over to give me an enthusiastic greeting instead. The man gave me a friendly smile as he put his briefcase in his top-of-the-line Lexus SUV before walking over to introduce himself. "Brantford Sage," he said holding out his hand. "You must be Mr. Crawford. Wilma has told me a lot about you. With everything she said, I was kind of expecting you to be seven feet tall and wearing a cape." I laughed at the image. "It's nice that she thinks so highly of me, but she gives me too much credit. And please call me Davis." "Well, Davis, and please call me Brantford, I have known Wilma for more years than you have been alive, and I have never heard her talk about anyone the way that she talks about you, except for Phillip, of course. And we all know how she felt about Phillip." I knew that it was none of my business why Mr. Sage was visiting Wilma, but my desire to protect her overrode any hesitation on my part about speaking out. "I am sorry if it's rude of me to ask, Mr. Sage, but what is your business here with Wilma? As you may know, her own family, along with a local family of some prominence, have been waging a campaign to get Wilma to sell this land. You are not here on their behalf, are you?" "I can assure you, Davis, that I am only here as a favor to Wilma. I normally split my time between our offices in Detroit, New York, and London, but when Wilma calls, I make it a priority to answer. I am sorry that I can't say more about my business here, attorney-client privilege, but you can ask her yourself if you would like." "It's all good. Wilma is still sharp as a tack, and even if she has lost a step or two, she is still twice as smart and four times as wise as I will ever be." "Well, I should be going. But sadly, I am sure I will see you again, soon enough." By the end of the summer, it was clear that Wilma's adventures were almost done. When she worked with Mary, she would often fall asleep in the comfortable chair in the corner. She had never had a large appetite, but recently, it had dwindled almost to nothing. Erin was very worried and suggested that it was time to move her Gran into hospice, but Wilma wouldn't hear of it. "This house has been my home for more than 60 years; I am not going to leave it now. It would miss me too much, and I can't have my home pining away over me. There is nothing more depressing than a sad home." Even Munchkin, the dog with boundless energy, became more subdued and often sat a quiet watch over Wilma while she slept. Finally, on the last Sunday of August, I got the call I had been dreading. I could hear Mary's voice on the other end of the line, holding back tears. "Gran says she's too tired and it's time to stop fighting. She told me to call you and Erin, and ask you to come;" I could hear the sobs building in her as she spoke, "to say goodbye." "Is James there with you, Mary?" "I called him. He's on his way." "I will call Erin and then go and pick her up. She won't be in any condition to drive." I figured the odds of there being a speed trap on the highway to Petoskey before 7 AM on a Sunday were slim to none, so I made it to Erin's apartment in record time. She must have been watching for me out of her window, as she threw herself into my arms before I was fully out of the truck. "I am so sorry, Honey," was all I could say, and I just held her in silence until the waves of grief that wracked her body had subsided. "We should get going," I said, not knowing what else to say. Maybe I should have told her that "Everything would be alright," but I suspected that it would be a while before that was true. But that was okay. People grieve in their own time. Erin held my hand tightly as we started the drive to Wilma's. "Why don't you tell me some of your favorite memories with your Gran and Grampy?" Erin remained silent for a few minutes, but once she started talking, the floodgates opened wide. She told me about the first time that her parents dropped her at the airport when she was only seven. How scared she was of these strange older people she didn't know. Phillip had seen her fear, and rather than trying to comfort her; how do you comfort a child whose parents have abandoned them; he had taken her for a long walk down by the lake. She remembered the sound of the wind blowing off the lake, as Phillip told her stories about their past. She remembered the summers she spent with Gran and Grampy as a teen. By that point, she had grown into a beautiful young woman, and her parents wanted to show her off to their important friends in Europe and places further afield. But she had already chosen to spend her time with the people that she loved. She spoke of coming to see them when she was in college. Of the awful year that Phillip got sick, and her grief at his passing. She said that her parents came to Good Hart for the funeral, but it felt like she and Gran were the only people to truly grieve his loss. She fell silent as we pulled into Wilma's laneway. "Go and see your Gran. Let me know what you need, Honey. I am here for you." Despite her grief, Erin looked at me as she took my hand. "What about you? What do you need, Davis? You love her too." "People show their love in different ways. I never really got the chance to give or receive love as a child, at least not in the way that most of us think of it. But being with you has made me realize something important about myself; I take care of the people I love. So, let me take care of you, Mary, and Wilma, one final time." By that point, Mary and Munchkin had come outside. Mary's eyes were red, and you could see the tracks that her tears had left on her cheeks. I got out of the truck and just held her for a minute. Erin came up behind me and enveloped her as well. Munchkin, mourning in his own way, stood watch for us, keeping us safe as we grieved. "Mary, you don't have to be here for the end if it's too hard. You can say goodbye, then take the truck and go and meet James. We can let you know when it's over." She just shook her head. "Where is she?" Mary led us into the living room. The wisp that remained of Wilma was in the comfortable chair by the fire. She had been a very small woman when we met less than a year before, but now she looked almost ethereal. Like the wind could slip right through her collecting her stories as it passed. She beckoned me over with one of her curled hands. "Davis, I am glad that you're here. I know I am a greedy old biddy, but I have three favors to ask, and I don't have a lot of time left to do the asking." "Of course, Wilma. You know I would do anything for you and Erin." She closed her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts. "The first favor is that I need some time alone with my girls. I am sure James will be here in a minute; he is a good boy, don't hold those assholes in his family against him. He loves our Mary. Go outside, and when he arrives, I want you to go down to the lake and set up the five Adirondack chairs, so they are all together and facing out over the water. Then come back up to me." "Of course, Wilma." I went outside and sat on the front steps, scratching Munchkin's ears as I waited. James pulled up less than ten minutes later and I explained what had happened, and Wilma's request. When we were finished at the lake, we walked back up to the house, with Munchkin following quietly on our heels. We let ourselves in and saw Wilma, Erin, and Mary pulled together in an embrace. I was hesitant to interrupt, but Wilma saw us and called us over. "There's your big, strong men. Girls, could you get some of the outdoor blankets for James to carry down to the lake for us? And Davis, my second favor is for you to carry me down to the lake one last time. Would the rest of you give us a few minutes before you follow?" I picked Wilma up from the chair and wrapped her in my arms. She felt almost weightless, but I saw hints of her mischievous smile as we started walking. "You know, the last time a man carried me like this, the journey ended very differently." I couldn't help but smile, even at the end Wilma was still quick with the teasing and innuendo. "I bet you wish it was that other man carrying you now," I joked in return, but Wilma just rested her head against my chest. "No. No, I don't, Davis. I will see that other man soon enough. I am well content to be here with you. I am so proud of you. You are such a good and faithful man. It is a lot to ask of you, but for my third favor, will you look after my girls when I am gone?" By that point, we had reached the shore, and I set Wilma down in the middle chair of the five. "You don't need to ask, Wilma. Of course, I will look after them. Because you asked it of me, and because I love them just like you do." Wilma smiled and reached out to take my hand while she pressed three small objects into my palm. I looked down and saw that she had removed her engagement and wedding rings and given them to me. They were joined by an almost identical wedding band that must have belonged to Phillip before he passed. "You will know when the time is right for these. I would have liked to have been there to see it, though. Through these rings, maybe Phillip and I can continue to be a small part of your love for each other, even once we're gone." James and the girls had started down the path to the lake and would reach us in a minute. Before they arrived, Wilma gave me a final serious look. "All hell is going to break loose when they read my will after the funeral. Be there for Erin, please. The mistakes I made with my children are all my fault, but Erin will be left to bear that weight for a little while longer once I'm gone. It would mean a lot to a dying woman to know that she won't have to carry that weight alone." "I'll share that weight with her, for as long as she needs. For as long as she will let me." Wilma patted my hand. "That's good. I love you, Davis, but I think it's time." Mary and Erin arrived with James, and they made sure that Wilma was bundled in warm blankets as she looked out over the lake. Mary and Erin sat on either side of her and held her hands, while James and I sat at the ends. Munchkin settled against Wilma's feet, to keep them warm. After a while, Wilma started talking. She told stories about her life with Phillip; how they met, when they first came to this place, building a home, and raising their family. She spoke of their success as artists, and their failures as parents. She spoke of her regrets but also about her deep love for Erin and Mary, and how much she appreciated what they had done for her. She paused for a moment as the wind began to pick up, but we heard her last words before the wind carried the rest away. "You are all artists, and you are all worthy of love." She fell silent, and we sat for a long while listening to the wind off the lake. Epilogue. As always, Wilma was right. The reading of her will did indeed set off a firestorm, but she had made sure that we were ready for it. Do you remember Mr. Sage, that man in the suit who came to visit Wilma not too long before she passed? It turns out that he wasn't just an old friend, he was also a named partner at the largest law firm in the state and one of the most powerful firms in the country. It seems that Phillip didn't just paint portraits for the richest family in the state (you would recognize their name from the hospitals, museums, and other cultural institutions where it is featured prominently), but he also became a close family friend. You would never have known it, though, since Phillip refused to even acknowledge their friendship in public so that he didn't inadvertently trade on their name. Mr. Sage was also a good friend of that family and, over the years, became close with Wilma and Phillip, as well. After James told Wilma his story, she called those old family friends and, for the first time in their long friendship, asked for their help. She would never have done so for her own benefit, but she couldn't bear to think that Phillip's legacy would be lost because of the greed and treachery of his children. Within a day, Mr. Sage was working on a solution to Wilma's problem, and everything was signed and sealed well before Wilma passed on. The day of the reading of the will would have been comic if it hadn't also been so tragic. In the weeks after Wilma's death, her remaining children and grandchildren had gathered to express their deep sadness at her passing. Many black outfits were worn, and many sad faces were made. Not surprisingly, the entire McDougal family also showed up both to the funeral and to the smaller gathering at Wilma's house afterward. James stood with Mary, his arm around her shoulder, both to comfort her and to protect her from his own family, as best he could. The rest of the McDougal clan stood with Wilma's family and made sure to avail themselves of the free wine and hors d'oeuvres. As per her wishes, Wilma was cremated, and her ashes were scattered from the deck behind her house so that the wind could carry them towards the lake. Again, as per her wishes, the will was read immediately thereafter. The first surprise of the day came when Mr. Sage, who everyone thought was there merely to express his condolences at Wilma's passing, informed the family lawyers that the will in their possession had been revoked earlier that year. Both Wilma's family and their lawyers began to protest until the man formally introduced himself as a named partner at Sage, Bentley, and Carstairs, and as the new executor of Wilma's estate. The second surprise was the size and extent of that estate. The property by the lake was considerably larger than anyone had known and included a number of additional houses and cottages that Wilma and Phillip had acquired over the years. Unlike the previous will, however, that had left an equal share of the land to each of Wilma's descendants, the new one protected the entire property, in perpetuity, as part of a land trust that was established for the benefit and use of artists, local residents and even the Fudgies, when summer came to the lower peninsula. As part of the land trust, the dock was to be extended and reinforced and a public boat landing and park were to be built and maintained on the land, again, in perpetuity. Erin and I were named as trustees of the land trust, along with Mr. Sage and Mary, when she came of age. Given Michigan's strict laws around the use of eminent domain for private gain, there was no chance that the McDougals and the county would be able to move forward with their plans to seize the land. The third and final surprise was that Wilma and Phillip had done much better with the sale of their art and with their investments over the years than anyone had thought or expected. In addition to the property that was now in the trust, they had amassed a fortune in the low eight figures. Most of that money was left to manage the land trust, but a not inconsiderable amount was set aside to fund the college education of my brother and sisters and to pay off Erin's considerable student debt from medical school. The will also stipulated that the estate would pay for any costs that Wilma's family had incurred to attend the funeral (with receipts, of course.) Wilma's paintings were left to the public gallery in Grand Rapids and galleries further afield, with a few notable exceptions. Mary was given three paintings of her choice from the collection, that weren't otherwise named in the will. After much thought and consideration, she chose both the first and last works that Wilma had painted, both of which had been hanging in the living room, along with a small study of the house that Wilma kept in her bedroom beside a picture of Phillip and her on their wedding day. Erin was given Phillip's portrait of her as a young woman, and that portrait still hangs above our mantelpiece alongside his portrait of Wilma as a young woman, which she left to me. The only time they left our mantelpiece was when they were featured in a retrospective exhibit of their work at a museum in New York, but the house felt strangely empty when they were gone. Erin's family was furious at the changes in the new will. They threatened to fight it with every resource at their disposal. They tried every dirty trick they could think of, questioning Wilma's mental capacity in the months before her death, fighting the legality of the land trust, and trying to impugn our characters implying that we were gold diggers who wormed our way into Wilma's life to steal the family inheritance. In the end, though, the family's lawyers were no match for Brantford and his firm. When none of their ploys worked, Erin's family and the McDougals turned on each other, and the ensuing lawsuits are still ongoing to this day. I would love to say that that was the end of the McDougals, or that Erin's family came around in the end. Unfortunately, they are still just as terrible as ever. But at least their arrogance and corruption are now far enough away that we can safely ignore them. On a similar note, my mother is still absent from our lives. I don't honestly know if she is even still alive, although I assume that someone would have tried to find her next of kin if she had died. Sometimes, I am charitable and hope that she managed to face her demons and turn what's left of her life around. But most of the time, I am just glad that she is no longer able to hurt the people I love. After things settled down, Alison finished her schooling and became a nurse practitioner, as she had always dreamed of. In her last year of study, while she was doing a clinical practicum at a hospital in Detroit, she met a lovely internist who fell madly in love with her. Luckily for him, his feelings were reciprocated, and they are now married and living in Grand Rapids. They split their holidays between our family and her husband's family in Detroit, and they stay with us for a few weeks each summer. Their son is as thick as thieves with our daughter, and their imagination carries them through endless adventures together. Sharon was successful in her ambition to leave the peninsula and see more of the world. She finished her undergraduate degree in creative writing in Chicago before setting out to see the world, and she is still out there wandering. But she sends us lots of pictures when she gets the chance, and recently, Erin noticed that many of her pictures have the same very attractive woman smiling in the background. I think it was probably a coincidence, but Erin thinks otherwise. I sure hope Erin's right. There is nothing I want more than for my family to find love and happiness. When the spirit moves her to come home to us (with or without her friend), she will be very welcome. Mary spent months grieving her loss, but rather than turning inward, she channeled her emotions into a triptych of paintings that firmly established her as an upcoming talent in the world of art. She lived with us for several years until James proposed, at which point they moved into one of the cottages owned by the trust. Unfortunately, James' family found out that he told Wilma about their plans, and they disowned him. He had a few tough years, but Mary helped him through, and when he turned eighteen, I took him on as an apprentice. He now runs one of my crews. I used to worry that he loved Mary more than she loved him and that the imbalance would lead to heartache. My worries were put to rest when she painted her first portrait. James was her subject, and I have never seen a painting more suffused with love and desire. A few years later, a collector offered her an eye-watering amount of money for it, but she politely declined. As for Lane, well who knows what he will do with his life, but he is carrying a 4.0 GPA, and the world is his oyster. He was sure impressed by the lawyers who rained hellfire down on the McDougals, though, so I suspect that he might be leaning that way in the future. He is also building quite a following as a DJ, combining classics from the 40's and 50's with new beats. He recently started dating a new girl, and she is a real sweetheart. We haven't told her about the day that he met Erin for the first time; yet. But trust me, that time will come. But until it does, Lane is more than happy to keep up with his chores and help out around the house. But what he loves more than anything is to carry his rod out to the end of the dock and fish, while the wind off the lake plays through his hair. And then there is Erin and me. I have to say that things have worked out pretty well for us, in the end. It took less than a year for me to make use of Wilma's last gifts, and Erin and I were married the next summer in the new park down by the dock. Wilma left her house and a few acres of land to Erin, separate from the land trust, and we spent several years fixing it up and expanding it so that my brother and sisters know that there is always a place for them if they need it; for a day, a week, or a lifetime. I am still not the best at taking orders or following instructions; but gentle requests from the woman that I love, sealed with a kiss on my cheek? It turns out that I am more than fine with those. And I am still not always sure what a beautiful doctor sees in a plumber like me. But rather than let my insecurity get the better of me, I have learned to accept my good fortune with a smile. One tradition that we've adopted as our own is that we make time to dance together every Friday night. If we have guests, or family who are home, they know that they will be joining us as well; Wilma's 'no wallflowers' rule is still in full effect. Now that she is old enough, I am teaching our daughter to dance, and her favorite thing in the world is to twirl around the living room in her mommy and daddy's arms. Some nights, when it's just the three of us and our daughter has gone to bed, we let the soft crackle of Wilma's old 45s take us back. We dance together with the lights down low, the music threading through the quiet night like a whisper from the past. And when the music fades, we hold each other close and listen to the voices of those we have loved, as they linger in the wind off the lake. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Phones: 1-213-267-7787 (USA), +44 2081 036051 (UK) On episode 385 of The Neutral Corner Boxing Podcast, host Michael Montero previews the heavyweight match up between Jake Paul and Anthony Joshua, which will be broadcast live on Netflix on Friday, 19-December from Miami, Florida. Montero also gives his thoughts on Terence "Bud" Crawford announcing his retirement this week. What is Bud's legacy and where does he stack up all-time? https://youtube.com/live/FFGhPwtWbFY

Join Raj (@rajmehta.ca) and Greg (@greghoogkamp) as they discuss the possibility MLB will regulate technology in the minor leagues, analyze the signings and trades from the past week and highlight news at Prospects Live. The majority of the episode is spent discussing the dynasty outlooks for the Mets and Mariners.Mets players discussed: Jorge Polanco, Francisco Lindor, Mark Vientos, Jeff McNeil, Bret Baty, Juan Soto, Carson Benge, Ryan Clifford, Kodai Senga, Nolan McLean, Devin Williams, Jonah Tong, Brandon Sproat, Jack Wenninger, Will WatsonMariners players discussed: Julio Rodriguez, Cal Raleigh, J.P. Crawford, Randy Arozarena, Josh Naylor, Colt Emerson, Jonny Farmelo, Michael Arroyo, Logan Gilbert, George Kirby, Bryan Woo, Luis Castillo, Bryce Miller, Andres Munoz, Eduard Bazardo, Ryan Sloan

Get ready for another exciting week of content from FTINFX Media! In this week's episode of *Foxtrotting in a Foxhole*, we will cover NFL Week 15, the Knicks' impressive victory in the Emirates Cup, a chaotic week for PSG, and Crawford's big announcement. Tune in to Episode #10-05 to hear our latest thoughts on everything happening in the sports world—on the course, at the track, on the pitch, and more.We will also provide updates on ongoing winter sports seasons and a comprehensive analysis of the latest happenings on the hardwood. Don't miss Episode #10-05, and be sure to recommend it to a friend!

Over the summer, C-SPAN's podcast "Extreme Mortman" did an episode all about Presidents – and summer vactions. Now - time for the sequel – Presidents – and winter vacations! Like the one Barack Obama took – which he previewed during a 2013 press conference – a few days before Christmas: "So the end of the year is always a good time to reflect and see what can you do better next year. That's how I intend to approach it. I'm sure that I will have even better ideas after a couple days of sleep and sun." And George W. Bush, on vacation in 2002, New Year's Eve: "Hi, guys. Happy New Year to everybody. Laura and I wish all our fellow Americans a prosperous and peaceful and a happy new year. We are really happy to be spending New Year here in Crawford, Texas. We'll be having our New Year's hamburger here in a minute." Just like with presidents and summer vacation, by now you're likely wondering: • Where do our Presidents go for winter vacation? • Do they get work done during winter vacation? • Who pays for the trip? • And what do political junkies and National Journal veterans Kirk Bado and Ledge King –– say about presidents and winter vacations? Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

MMA LETEM SVĚTEM je zpátky a tentokrát je to jízda napříč boxem, UFC, OKTAGONEM i KSW

Covino & Rich share the story of how Cove met a young Dave Chappelle! They take calls about Rich's fight night & talk school holiday performances. NBA Cup...who cares?! 'SHAQ DIESEL TRIVIA' & O.J.'s Bills number brings out a crazy Covino story! Plus, Crawford hangs it up!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Brodes is SO PISSED OFF that Dave Dombrowski pretends the Phillies offseason is good enough.DraftKings -  https://myaccount.draftkings.com/signup?intendedSiteExp=US-NJ-SB&returnPath=https%3A%2F%2Fsportsbook.draftkings.com%2FGet Your Tickets at TickPick! Code BRODES10 for $10 off purchase of atleast $99: https://www.tickpick.com/Camden Apothecary - https://camdenapothecary.com/Emilio Cigars: https://cigarsncigars.com/search.php?page=1§ion=product&search_query_adv=Emilio&x=0&y=0 Code: THANKS20 for 20% off your purchase!

In this NBN episode, host Hollay Ghadery speaks with Brad Smith about his new novel, Billy Crawford's Double Play (Wolsak & Wynn, 2025).  Everything is legal – if you can get away with it. Billy Crawford is a hero. The star of the Rose City Rounders, the baseball player has been thrilling fans of the city for years. But Billy's not as young as he used to be and his tendency to play hard is catching up with him. A string of losses for the Rounders puts his position at risk as the team's owner, local developer Carroll Miller, doesn't like being associated with anything that loses. Miller's thinking of making changes, and not just at the team. When he decides to enter politics Billy suddenly finds himself facing an offer he can't refuse. In this wise-cracking, fast-paced novel, Brad Smith lampoons today's scandal-ridden politics and politicians. But among the laughter, Smith also shows us there can be hope, and even integrity, where we least expect it. Award-winning author Brad Smith is a novelist and screenwriter, born and raised in southern Ontario. Billy Crawford's Double Play is his fifteenth novel. His 2019 novel – The Return of Kid Cooper – won the Spur Award for Best Western Traditional Novel from the Western Writers of America. His novels One-Eyed Jacks and Copperhead Road were shortlisted for the Dashiell Hammett Prize. He adapted his book All Hat to feature film, starring Keith Carradine and Luke Kirby. He now lives in a ninety-year-old farmhouse near the north shore of Lake Erie, where he tinkers, respectively, on his vintage cars and his golf swing. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Episode #360: Jamel "Semper Fi" Herring is professional boxer and a former WBO super featherweight world champion. Jamel is a U.S. Marine Corps veteran and has compiled a professional boxing record of 24-5 with 12 knockouts, including victories over Carl Frampton and Lamont Roach. Jamel is currently signed to BKFC and is scheduled to make his debut on January 17, 2026, on DAZN. Follow Jamel on social media @JamelHerring. CONNECT WITH US: All Show Links

We did some UPGRADES to end the year folks. New mics for the crew, courtesy of Santa. I hope you're reading this part, because this is additional "content", which we're told people enjoy. So CONTENT AHOY as we catch up after 2 weeks...which means that it's time to go LOW and HIGH on the Birds. It's the end of a losing streak, but we've learned a lot about this team. Mike is in a bit of a wellness check zone during this episode. We righted the ship, but the next three games will tell us what kind of playoff caliber squad we are this year.We also needed to get back to - everyone's favorite winter activity - offseason baseball meetings! The Phils bring back KYLE for another 5 years. Locking in a centerpiece, you gotta love it. But what other moves are a'comin? We welcome Garcia, could be an interesting prove-it year. But maybe time for Crawford in CF? We ponder, we wonder, and we look forward to pitchers and catchers reporting.Somehow we still crammed in a bit of the Sixers and the Flyers, but next week - maybe JUST in time for Christmas, we'll go deeper on these possible playoff-level teams. HAPPY HOLIDAYS to you, Hoagie Mouth Nation.Email: hoagiemouthpod@gmail.comIG: @hoagiemouthpod

On this episode of The Ran-Dumb Show, we break down the IBF's decision to strip Terence Crawford of his belt. Was this a fair enforcement of the rules, or another example of boxing politics punishing elite fighters? We debate whether Crawford should've paid the sanctioning fee, how much power boxing organizations really have, and whether fighters should keep playing along with a broken system—or finally push back.#RanDumbShow #TerenceCrawford #IBF #BoxingPolitics #BoxingNews #ChampionshipBelt #SanctioningFees #FighterRights #CombatSports #BoxingDebate

For more information and to stay up to date with Pastor Jamie Crawford, Breakthrough Ministries and Epicenter Church please visit our website's breakthroughevangelism.com or epicenterchurchok.com

In this NBN episode, host Hollay Ghadery speaks with Brad Smith about his new novel, Billy Crawford's Double Play (Wolsak & Wynn, 2025).  Everything is legal – if you can get away with it. Billy Crawford is a hero. The star of the Rose City Rounders, the baseball player has been thrilling fans of the city for years. But Billy's not as young as he used to be and his tendency to play hard is catching up with him. A string of losses for the Rounders puts his position at risk as the team's owner, local developer Carroll Miller, doesn't like being associated with anything that loses. Miller's thinking of making changes, and not just at the team. When he decides to enter politics Billy suddenly finds himself facing an offer he can't refuse. In this wise-cracking, fast-paced novel, Brad Smith lampoons today's scandal-ridden politics and politicians. But among the laughter, Smith also shows us there can be hope, and even integrity, where we least expect it. Award-winning author Brad Smith is a novelist and screenwriter, born and raised in southern Ontario. Billy Crawford's Double Play is his fifteenth novel. His 2019 novel – The Return of Kid Cooper – won the Spur Award for Best Western Traditional Novel from the Western Writers of America. His novels One-Eyed Jacks and Copperhead Road were shortlisted for the Dashiell Hammett Prize. He adapted his book All Hat to feature film, starring Keith Carradine and Luke Kirby. He now lives in a ninety-year-old farmhouse near the north shore of Lake Erie, where he tinkers, respectively, on his vintage cars and his golf swing. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/literature

Ade Oladipo & Gareth A Davies get stuck into Friday night's fight between AJ and Jake Paul and try to male sense of what we are about to witness in MiamiThere's a discussion to over the growing influence of Netflix in boxing and in sports in general and if the streaming giants will become a major player in the sportAnd they discuss the retirement of Terrence Crawford who has called it a day a few months after defeating Canelo Alvarez Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1 Love, bastards, and what we leave behind. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. The Plumber, The Painter, and the Wind off the Lake Prologue I have never been much for following instructions or doing what I'm told. In eighth grade, we were assigned to make a volcano in science class. I figured that if the eruption looked good with a couple of tablespoons of baking soda, then it would look even better with the whole container! And what better place for a natural disaster than the teacher's desk at the front of the class. I was right; the whole container of baking soda produced an impressive explosion. What I didn't count on, however, was it producing a week-long suspension from school and a beating from my mother. In high school, we had to take an art class to graduate. Our teacher loved still life drawing and would ramble endlessly about how it revealed the beauty that is in the everyday objects that surround us. I guess he wanted us to reveal the beauty in the bowl of fruit that he had put in the middle of the classroom, but the most beautiful things that I could see were Brittany Johnson's D-cups which filled out her sweater gloriously. At the end of the class, there were 29 drawings of a bowl of fruit and one drawing of a beautiful girl's smile (amongst other details). Although I was suspended for two days, I got a date with Brittany who loved my drawing, so I feel like I came out ahead on that one. In my last year of school, the final mathematics exam asked the following question: Determine the points of intersection between the following parabolas and lines. Illustrate fully. While the other students slaved away to solve the listed problems in the allotted time, I fully illustrated a drawing of our math teacher, Mr. Aaronson, dancing a slow waltz in a field of sunflowers with Mrs. Stevens, the geography teacher. It was the worst-kept secret in the school that our two shyest teachers had massive crushes on each other, and after four years of watching them pine away, I thought they could use a little push. I failed the test, but Mr. Aaronson showed my drawing to Mrs. Stevens during a particularly dull staff meeting, and when it made her blush and smile, he finally got up the courage to ask her out. They are now married and have a little girl who is as cute as a button. At the end of the year, Mr. Aaronson asked me if I planned to pursue math in the future, and when I assured him that I did not, he gave me a passing grade. So, what was my problem, you might ask? Was I just one of those kids who didn't give a shit and was destined for mediocrity or failure in life? Like many things, the answer is more complicated than it might first appear, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our story starts on an unusually cold and blustery afternoon in late October, on the north-eastern shore of Lake Michigan about a half hour's drive north of Petoskey, just outside a village called Good Hart. Chapter 1. It had been a busy day. The perfect storm of an early season snap freeze, strong winds, and lake-effect snow meant that there was a couple of inches of snow on the still soggy ground, along with a number of leaky or burst pipes, malfunctioning valves, and boiler issues as people cranked their heating systems up to full for the first time that year. As a plumber, though, I didn't mind. It just meant more work for me, which was always a good thing. At only 25 years of age, and despite being a master plumber, I was generally the last choice for folks to call, even in an emergency. Anyone with money chose one of the larger and more established plumbing contractors, leaving me with the jobs that they didn't feel were worth their time or effort. That's how I found myself pulling into the laneway of an older house, just off Lamkin Road down by the lake, late that Friday afternoon. It was my last job of the day, but I would be working over the weekend to catch up on my backlog, so I wanted to get it done. The house looked like it hadn't been updated since it was built, likely in the late fifties or early sixties, other than a couple of coats of paint and a new roof when the original finally gave up the ghost. The front gardens were neatly tended, however, and the property itself was stunning, with panoramic views in three directions out over the lake. The sun was just beginning to dip toward the western horizon as I drove up, so the trees cast long shadows across the laneway. The house was owned by Mrs. Wilma C. Anderson, who had called me earlier in the day to say that some of her radiators weren't working and that her boiler was making one hell of a racket when she turned it on. I told her to shut the system down and that I would look at it by the end of the day. She sounded quite elderly, and I didn't like the idea of her going without heat for a night during a cold snap. I rang the doorbell and waited until a tiny wisp of a woman answered. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and looked older than the hills, but her face was full of life, and her eyes had a twinkle that spoke of humor and mischief. "Hi, Mrs. Anderson, I'm Davis Crawford. You called earlier about some issues with your boiler and heating system. How can I help?" Mrs. Anderson gave me an appraising look. "I wasn't expecting you to be such a handsome young man. If I were fifty years younger, I would tell you exactly how you could help me, and then I'd teach you a trick or two I learned over the years. But I am too old for that kind of foolishness these days, so I will just have to make use of your plumbing expertise instead. And please, call me Wilma." I couldn't help but laugh and blush at Wilma's surprisingly raunchy sense of humor. I liked her immediately. "Let's try that again. What seems to be the problem?" "Well, the biggest problem is that I am 91 years old and dying of cancer. The doctors give me less than a year to live. But aside from that, I really can't complain. I have had a good run of it." I cocked my head to one side and gave her a bemused look. "Oh, you were wondering what the problem is with my heating system. Well, I turned it on this morning when I got up, and the boiler sounded like there was someone trapped inside of it trying to hammer their way out. There was a worrisome hissing from some of the radiators, as well, and they weren't heating up worth a damn. "My husband, Phillip, used to take care of those things for us, but he has been gone for almost five years now, so I hate to think what you will find when you look around." "I'm sure I can help you, Mrs. Anderson,;" "Wilma, please." "Sorry, Wilma. Why don't you show me to the basement, and I will try to figure out what's wrong. Then I can get started on fixing it." On the way to the basement stairs, Wilma led me through her crowded but orderly living room. I couldn't help but notice the paintings on just about every surface of its walls. "You have a real eye for art, Wilma. Those paintings are beautiful." Wilma smiled wistfully at me and got a faraway look in her eyes as she replied. "Phillip and I were artists. I guess I still am, but I haven't felt much like painting since he passed on. Phillip painted portraits. He made a surprisingly good living at it; you would be amazed at what rich people will pay to see their lives immortalized in oil on canvas. I never had the knack. Phillip could make even the most corpulent and corrupt industrialist appear regal and wise. I could only ever capture what I actually saw in them, and I quickly discovered that they did not enjoy, or pay for, that kind of introspection. "So, I painted landscapes, and there is always a market for those. But I kept some of my favorite pieces, over the years, as you can see." As Wilma spoke, I took a closer look at the paintings. One, in particular, was striking; a portrait of a beautiful young woman, in her late teens or early twenties, with a stethoscope around her neck and her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was wearing a loose hoodie and was curled up in an Adirondack chair, reading a book. It was not what you would expect from a formal portrait, but it seemed to capture her essence in a way that no photograph could match. I must have stopped moving as I was drawn into the image, so Wilma gave me a minute before she continued. "That's the last painting that Phillip worked on before he passed. He didn't get the chance to finish it, but I still think it's his finest work." I couldn't help but agree. "Who's the model? She's beautiful." "That's my granddaughter, Erin. You can't tell from the portrait, but she's a real firecracker. As a grandparent, you're not supposed to play favorites, but she was very special to Phillip, and it hit her hard when he passed. There is more love in that one painting than in all the other portraits that he painted over his lifetime. Except for his first, of course, of me." "Where are Phillips' other works? Surely, they weren't all commissions that are now locked away in some dusty millionaire's palace." Wilma's expression turned bleak as she contemplated her response. "All of his other paintings were sold after he died. The kids said they would fetch a better price while there was an upswing of interest in his work after his death, so they insisted that they all go to auction as quickly as possible. They were probably right, I guess, although I loved his art more than I needed the money. But how do you argue with your kids when they have just lost their father?" "Do any of your children live nearby?" "They all moved far away. Phillip and I chose a wonderful spot to live and make our art, but a challenging place to raise a family. It's not so bad now, what with the internet, highways, and the like, but when we first moved here sixty-some years ago, it was very isolated. We were young and selfish, and our selfishness cost us dearly. "We thought that our children would grow to love this area over time, like we did. But they never did, and they left as soon as they could get away. My daughter, Samantha, is a retired lawyer and she and her third husband split their time between their loft in Manhattan and their beach house in the Bahamas. My son, Robert, is an oil executive down in Texas. Neither of them has been here in more than a decade, except for Phillip's funeral. "My baby, Max, passed away more than twenty years ago now of cancer. Erin is his granddaughter. She is a pediatrician, and she splits her time between the hospital in Petoskey and the children's hospital down in Grand Rapids. She comes to see me when she can, but she is very busy. My other relatives all live busy lives far away from here. We chose to live here, though, so I can't be too upset that the rest of the family chose to live far away. "But enough about me. What about you, Mr. Crawford? Do you have any children?" "It's just me and my siblings, I'm afraid, and it's been that way for quite some time. My oldest sister, Alison, is 20, and she goes to college at North Central Michigan, in Petoskey. She is planning to become a nurse practitioner. The rest of the gang still lives at home with me. Sharon is 17 now, so she kind of runs the show while I am working; Mary is 15 but going on 30, if you know what I mean; and Lane is the baby of the family at 12." "Where are your parents?" "I don't honestly know. We each have a different father, or at least we think we do. Sharon, Lane, and I have no idea who our fathers are, so there's a chance that we might be full siblings, but I doubt it. My mother never kept the same man around for long. Alison's father has been in and out of jail since before she was born and is currently serving a stint in federal prison. But Mary has it the worst of all of us. "My mother met Mary's dad on a weekend bender in Vegas, and he is a pretty big deal. Rich, famous, the kind of guy you see on TV and the cover of magazines. A real family man, except when it comes to Mary, whom he refuses to even acknowledge. He bought my mom's silence with a lump sum payment and a non-disclosure agreement. That money was supposed to be put in a trust for Mary, but my mom snorted and injected it all in less than a year. Mary has written to her father dozens of times and reached out to him on social media countless more, but he wants nothing to do with his bastard daughter. "As for my mom, she went away for the weekend almost seven years ago now and left me in charge. And I am still in charge, I guess. So, no time for dating or romance for me, and I think that I will be just about done with raising kids by the time that Lane goes off to college." Wilma gave me a look filled with more empathy than I had felt in a long time, maybe ever. "Anyway, I should take a look at your boiler and see what I can do about getting you some heat." I would have called the boiler in Wilma's basement old, but that wouldn't have done it justice. Frankly, it wouldn't have seemed out of place in a museum of heating and plumbing, and it was hanging on to life by the barest of threads. With only a year to live, however, I wasn't going to recommend to Wilma that she replace the whole system with something more modern and efficient. "I think I can fix your boiler so that it will hold on for another year or two, and I can patch a couple of leaks in the lines to the main radiators as well. One line to a radiator at the back of the house is completely shot, so I will shut that one off and be back to replace it later this week." "What's all that going to cost?" "It's free of charge, Ma'am. You've got enough to look after with your health and all, without having to worry about your heating system. I never had a grandma to spoil, at least not one that I know of, so it would be my pleasure to do this for you." "Please, it's Wilma. And it's a grandmother's prerogative to spoil her grandchildren, and not the other way around. But your kindness is mighty appreciated, Davis." It took me a couple of hours to shore up the boiler and repair the lines that were still in reasonable condition before I was finished for the day. As I got ready to leave, I found Wilma sitting alone in the living room reading an old paperback. "I'll call you later this week, once the replacement line for your radiator comes in." Wilma got a mischievous smile on her face. "Why, Davis, are you getting fresh with me?" "If I were older and more experienced, I would in an instant. But I hardly think I can compete with the memory of your Phillip." "Too true, too true. Alright young man, well thank you for taking the time to look after a foolish old woman on a cold October night." "I hardly think you're foolish, Wilma, but it's been my pleasure." I didn't get home from Wilma's until well after nine that night, and by the time I pulled into our gravel driveway, I was beat. The dilapidated old yard light mounted on the roof of the garage shone weakly down on the sloppy mix of gravel and mud that was our yard, and I could hear the excited barks of Munchkin, our rescue puppy. He was a mix of German Shepherd and Cane Corso, with some variety of northern dog thrown in, and he was mighty pleased to see me. I'm glad that someone was. I came into our small three-bedroom rental to find Sharon and Lane sitting at the dining room table working on his math homework. I wish that they reacted like Munchkin when they saw me, but Lane just grunted a hello, while Sharon looked up at me with a mixture of sadness and worry. "Mary is out with the McDougal brothers again. They showed up here a half hour ago, I told her not to go with them, but she wouldn't listen." "The McDougal brothers are assholes," was Lane's addition to the conversation, without even looking up from the table. He wasn't wrong. The oldest McDougall brother, Calum, was a couple of years ahead of me at school and was a bully and a braggart. Two of his three brothers had followed in his esteemed footsteps, while the jury was still out on the youngest, James. "I'm going to go get her. Next time that those boys turn up in our yard, let Munchkin lose on them." "Alright, dinner will be in the oven when you get back. Given 'em hell, Bro." The McDougal brothers lived just outside Pellston in the closest thing to a mansion that you could find in our neck of the woods. Their family owned the largest construction and maintenance company in the area and had most of the Public Works contracts sown up, along with a not inconsiderable portion of the private construction in our region as well. Their parents spent most of their time in Sarasota, Florida, though, and the brothers had free rein while they were gone. As I drove up their long, paved driveway, automatic floodlights came on, illuminating the ostentatious columns that flanked the entrance to their house. I parked in front of the nearest bay of their four-car attached garage while noting that there was another three-car garage further off to the right. I idly wondered who got to park in which garage. Rich people problems, I guess. I walked to the front door and let myself in. From the foyer, I could hear the loud thump of music coming from the back of the house, so I headed that way. As I passed through the kitchen, I nearly bumped into James, who was holding a couple of empty serving bowls. He stopped dead when he saw me, looking nervous, clearly not expecting anyone else to be in their house. Certainly not me, anyway. "Hey James, I am here to get my sister. Where is she?" He hesitated a moment before pointing toward the back of the house. "She's in the game room playing pool with the guys. We didn't force her to come here or anything, if that's what you're worried about." "Maybe that's true, James. But you know she is still a minor, and I am her guardian, so I'm going to fetch her and bring her home." James didn't like the sound of that, but I turned my back on him and followed the music to a large, sunken room at the back of the house, which had an expensive-looking pool table in the middle. The remaining McDougal brothers were either playing pool or smoking up on one of the couches that were scattered around the outside of the room. Calum was presiding over the festivities, while the Pistons game was playing on a wall-mounted TV that was bigger than some movie screens. Despite his family's blue-collar roots, Calum looked like an overgrown frat boy, with his preppy clothes and fifty-dollar haircut. Mary was sitting in the middle of one of the couches, with a McDougal brother on one side and one of their hangers-on on the other. She looked somewhere between uncomfortable and scared, but she gave me a defiant scowl. The music stopped, and everyone looked to Calum and then back at me. There was a nervous tension in the air. "Hi Calum, I'm here for my sister." Calum was now in a bit of a spot; he couldn't just let me come into his home and give him orders without losing face with his brothers and their cronies. But he also knew, or at least suspected, that my sister was underage. And then there was always the Pipe Wrench Incident. That always made people nervous to be around me. "That's not my problem. She told my brother that she wanted to party, so she's here to party. No one forced her to come, and she seems to be having a good time." I wondered if all of Calum's dates looked as scared and uncomfortable as Mary did at that moment when they were having a 'good time'. "Well, since she is still a minor and I'm her guardian, it's a bit of a problem. Or it could be. But I don't want to put a damper on your evening, so I'll just bring Mary home with me and we'll call it a night." Calum looked toward James who had just come back into the room with bowls now filled with potato chips. "Is that true, Limp dick? Did you bring an underage girl home to party with us?" James began to sputter before Calum shook his head in disgust. He pointed over at Mary. "Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back until you're sixteen," he said before turning back to me. "And you. Just get the fuck out of our house." It was a silent drive home. Mary refused to even look at me, staring out the window instead. When we pulled into our yard, Munchkin came running up to greet us, and Mary finally spoke. "You didn't need to embarrass me like that. I'm old enough to make my own choices, you know." "The law says you're still a minor. And you'll always be my sister. Those guys are no good, Mary. You know that." "James is different. He isn't like the rest of them." "Maybe that's true, or maybe not. But you don't hang out in a nest of rattlesnakes, just because there is a garter snake in there with them that you think is cute." After a pause and some continued barking from Munchkin, Mary finally looked over at me. "You're not my dad, you know. You can't tell me what to do." And there it was. It always came down to the same thing with Mary; her father's rejection of her. Over the years, it had undermined her self-esteem and destroyed her self-worth to the point where I wondered if they would ever recover. Unfortunately, I was just smart enough to see the problem, but I had no idea how to fix it. A brother's love can only go so far, I guess. "I know, Mary. I know. But I love you, and I am so proud of you, and I just wish that was enough." We sat in silence for another minute before she replied. "I wish it was too." Chapter 2. It took a couple of days for Mrs. Anderson's new radiator line to arrive, and I gave her a call when I went to pick it up. "Hi, Mrs. And; Wilma. I was just picking up the replacement line for your radiator, and I was wondering if you needed anything else from town, while I'm here. I was going to come by and install the line later this afternoon if that works for you." "That's very kind of you, Davis. Would you mind picking up a few groceries for me? I can send the store a list, so they will be ready for you when you get there." A couple of my calls that day took longer than expected, so it was late in the afternoon again by the time I made it to Wilma's place. The early season snow had mostly melted away, and her yard was now a combination of gravel and thick soupy mud that could swallow a tire as easily as it could swallow a boot. "Thank you for picking the groceries up for me, you're too kind." "It was no trouble at all, especially since I was coming out this way anyway. If you don't mind me asking, how do you usually get them?" "I used to have a young man up the way who would help me with groceries and yard work, and other small things, but now I am pretty much on my own." "What happened to him? Did he move away?" "No, he still lives in the same place that he always has, but I am pretty sure that my family paid him more not to help me than I was paying for his assistance." "What? That seems like a crappy thing for them to do to you." Wilma gave a resigned sigh and then offered me a coffee while she told me her story. "I think I told you the last time you were here, that most of my family has moved on from this place, except my granddaughter Erin. The rest of them already have an agreement in place with a developer, the McDougals, to turn this property into a high-end resort for the Fudgies, so they have someplace to spend their money after visiting Mackinac Island." "Fudgies," was what the locals called the tourists from down south who descended on the upper peninsula in the summer. "If you don't mind me asking, just how much land do you own?" "Well, Phillip and I didn't have much to spend our money on over the years, so we bought up many of the nearby properties when they went up for sale. We ended up with at least a quarter mile of land that fronts onto the lake, without even really trying." I let out a low whistle. "That must be worth a small fortune. I can understand your family's interest." "At first, they didn't care if I stayed in the house after Phillip died. They figured that I would follow soon enough. After a few years, however, they started to get impatient, and it's fair to say that they are now actively encouraging me to leave, by foot, by car, or in a box. They have generously offered to put me out to pasture in a warehouse for the old and infirm, though, to await my impending doom. "With my cancer, their wish is finally going to come true. By this time next year, I will be sipping coffee with Phillip in whatever afterlife we atheists get to enjoy. Actually, who am I kidding? If there is an afterlife for Phillip and me, the first thing I'm going to do when I get there is get on my knees, undo his belt buckle, and then show him just how much I've missed him these past five years. Wilma looked a bit startled as if she had just remembered that I was still there. "I'm sorry, Davis. You probably didn't need to hear that last part. I just miss him so much. I still see him in the trees and along the shore, and I sometimes hear his voice in the wind off the lake." "It's all good, Wilma. I just hope that my brother and sisters get to experience the kind of love that you and Phillip had someday." "What about you, Davis? Don't you deserve to experience that kind of love as well?" "Maybe I deserve it, Wilma, but I don't think I am going to find it. It's been tough; real tough, looking after my family all these years. I have done things that I am not proud of, but that needed to be done. I don't regret them; I would do anything to protect the people I love. But I doubt that anyone would be able to love me, once they found out what I've done." "I think you are selling yourself short, Davis. We are all artists, and we are all worthy of love." With that, Wilma offered to top up my coffee before I started replacing the broken line. As the evening's shadows deepened, I saw her watching me with compassion and concern in her eyes. Once I was finished, I felt her hand on my shoulder, and she gave it an empathetic squeeze. "A penny for your thoughts?" I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her. "It's my sister, Mary. I am losing her. She is so hurt and angry that she is beginning to make bad choices, and I don't know how to help her. I've tried to be her brother, parent, and friend, but I'm failing at all three." Wilma offered no judgment, good or bad. She just listened, and when I finished, she spoke. "Bring her over this Sunday around noon. Tell her to wear some old clothes that she doesn't mind getting dirty. You can come too if you would like and bring your little brother to do some fishing, but Mary will be spending her time with me." It wasn't easy convincing Mary to come to Wilma's. If you have spent time dealing with teenage girls, you know that they can be as stubborn as late-season ice on the lake. In the end, I resorted to threats and bribery to get her onboard, but she assured me that she would hate every minute she was there. Lane came with us as well, with the promise that we could spend the afternoon fishing off the end of Wilma's dock. By the time we arrived, Mary was sullenly glued to the passenger seat and wouldn't look up from her phone. Wilma waited a few minutes for Mary, but she stubbornly refused to leave the truck. Eventually, Wilma pulled on her rubber boots and walked over to the truck. She looked up at Mary and started speaking. "There are three things that I know are true. "The first, I've already shared with your brother. We are all artists because we are all worthy of love. But many of us lose our way. We are hurt and abandoned, and we are buried in shame. I was like that for many years. But my husband, Phillip, found me and taught me what it is to be loved. Not just the physical act; although he taught me about that as well; but the certainty that I was seen, known, and cherished. He showed me that I am an artist. You are an artist too. "Second, I am old, I have cancer, and I will die. Not today, and hopefully not tomorrow, but soon. And that is okay; we all die. I have lived a good life. And when I do, I hope that Phillip will be waiting for me with a glass of chilled white wine and his beautiful smile. My art may linger for a while once I am gone but, eventually, it too will be lost. "Third, the world is full of bastards. Your brother tells me that you and he are both bastards. I will tell you a secret that I have shared with very few people; I am a bastard too. "My mother was beautiful but poor. Her parents lost everything during the Great Depression, and she worked as a housemaid for a rich and powerful man to support her family. When she fell pregnant, he put her out on the street and refused to recognize her child, his daughter; me. Because of his rejection, I spent too many years steeped in shame and self-loathing. But eventually, I learned a hard truth; my father was a bastard by choice, while I was a bastard by birth. And those of us who are bastards by birth must never let the bastards by choice win. "Come inside when you're ready. I'm too old and it's too cold for me to stand here waiting for you." With that, Wilma turned and slowly made her way back to the house. Surprisingly, after a minute, Mary followed. When they reached the door, Wilma turned to look back at me. "It's time for you boys to go fishing. There is a warm breeze off the lake that will bring you good luck." Lane and I made our way down the hill to the dock in silence, our fishing rods, ice chest, and tackle box in hand. Unlike a seasonal dock that would be taken out of the lake each fall, Wilma's dock could be used year-round and was built with heavy timbers and steel bracing, so it could withstand the crushing force of the winter's ice. When we reached the dock, we felt the warm wind that Wilma had promised, and we chose our lures and began to cast. After a half hour of fishing, Lane broke the silence. "Do you think it's my fault?" "Do I think what's your fault, Bud?" "That mom left us. That she never came back. Do you think it's my fault?" I sighed as I thought about my answer. "No. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault, really, maybe not even hers. It's funny though, she brought some amazing people into this world. I wish she could have seen how incredible you and your sisters have turned out. But she made her choice, and that's on her, not you." Lane thought about my answer before he continued. "But you would be better off without me. Sharon would have more time to study for the scholarship she will need to get away from here. I try to be nice to Mary, to make her feel better, but I just seem to make things worse for her as well. And I see how hard you work to keep our family together. I feel like you would all be better off without me. If I weren't here, maybe Mom would come back home." I took a deep breath and tried to push down the anger that threatened to overwhelm me; anger at my mother for abandoning us, anger at myself for never being enough, and anger at a world that would leave my brother feeling like it would be better off if he didn't exist. I felt the wind off the lake as it blew across my face, drying my unshed tears before they were formed. As I was wondering how to unbreak my brother's heart, a particularly strong gust of wind blew through and Lane's fishing rod bent into a deep arc, the tip dancing wildly as a fish fought against the line. "Dad! Help;" The drag clicked furiously as the fish pulled line, as Lane fought to keep his rod tip up. I quickly set my rod aside and braced him, my hands held loosely beside his as he fought to reel in his catch. We worked together for what seemed like an eternity before he finally fought his fish to the side of the dock. I grabbed the net and saw that he had hooked a steelhead trout that was easily two feet long and must have weighed at least eight pounds if not more. It was a wonder the drag held steady, and his line didn't break during the fight. As I scooped up his catch, the steelhead's silver sides shimmered like polished chrome in the fading light, and it was so big that it took up over half the ice chest I had brought along to store our catch. Lane was flushed with excitement at landing such an impressive fish, and I was so proud of him that my heart almost ached. "Nice work, Son." He just looked up at me for a moment before throwing his arms around me in a hug. In the time since our mother left, he had never called me by anything other than my name. I never tried to be his dad; I didn't think I was qualified, but I guess that all of us need someone in our lives who will love us without conditions or end. "Never think that you're a burden on me or the family. Maybe you need a bit more from us right now than you can give back, but that's alright. Because sixty years from now, when I am old and can't wipe my ass anymore, you are going to be paying me back in spades, alright?" With that, we went back to fishing in companionable silence. I pulled in a few smaller ones, but nothing to match Lane's steelhead. A few hours later, the wind had picked up and it was getting colder, so we packed up our equipment and made our way back toward the house. Halfway down the dock, however, a huge gust of wind swept through, and I heard a cry followed by a loud splash. Turning back, I saw that Lane's foot had slipped through a broken slat, and he had fallen off the dock. Without thinking, I dropped the ice box and rods and jumped into the water to help him. When I got him to shore, he couldn't put any weight on his ankle, and any efforts to do so were met with cries of pain. I quickly collected our discarded fishing gear and set it to one side, before helping him to slowly make his way back up the hill. The November chill quickly took hold of us as we walked, plastering our damp clothing to our skin, and we were shivering uncontrollably by the time we reached the house. I knocked but it took a minute for Wilma and Mary to come out from the studio at the back of the house. "I am sorry to cut things short, but Lane had an accident down at the dock and he sprained or maybe even broke his ankle. I am going to have to take him to the hospital in Petoskey to get it looked at before it swells up any further." Wilma looked at me with concern. "Maybe you should hold off at least for a little while. My granddaughter, Erin, the pediatrician, is coming for dinner tonight and should be here any minute. Why don't we let her take a look at it before you head into town? And let's get you out of those clothes; you must be freezing. I still have some of Phillip's things in the closet that might fit you." A few minutes later, I had changed into a pair of comfortable but slightly musty-smelling pants, with a warm sweater over a well-worn collared shirt. I was both taller and wider than Phillip had been, at least in the twilight of his years, so the pants were a bit short, while the sweater was tight across my shoulders. While I changed, Mary and Wilma had set Lane up on the couch with his ankle elevated on some pillows. I helped him change out of his wet clothing and into an old sweatshirt and shorts that fit over his swollen ankle. Once Lane was settled, Wilma and I talked quietly in the kitchen. "It's getting late, and you must be getting hungry, but I don't think I have enough to feed everyone." I thought for a moment. "We may be in luck. Lane caught the biggest steelhead I have ever seen earlier this afternoon, but I left it down by the dock after the accident. If you have a few potatoes and maybe a veg or two, I am sure I can whip something up that would feed us all." Wilma looked at me with a sly smile. "He cooks, he plumbs, and he cares for his family, all while cutting a dashing figure in my late husband's favorite sweater. You, Mr. Crawford, are a catch." "I am not sure about that, Wilma," I replied with a laugh, "But either way, this catch had better go and get our earlier catch, so I can get started on dinner." It took me almost half an hour to collect our fishing gear and bring it back up to the truck. By the time I was done, an older SUV was parked behind my truck, which meant that Erin had arrived. After I loaded the gear, I used the fishing knife and stained plastic cutting board that I kept in a bin under the back seat to clean and filet the steelhead before heading inside. From the doorway, I could see a head of sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail sticking up from the far side of the couch, and I heard a calm and melodic voice talking to Lane while Wilma and Mary looked on. I was so lost in that voice that I almost jumped when the latch on the door caught behind me. The head of sandy-blonde hair looked up at the sound, revealing a pair of amber, almost golden eyes. "You must be the father," said that same melodic voice, as those eyes bore their way into my soul. "It's Davis Crawford, and I'm the older brother." "Erin Anderson, nice to meet you. Can you get hold of your parents? We might need to take Lane to the hospital for some X-rays." "No," I replied more harshly than I intended. "No," I tried again, more gently but with an edge to my voice. "Our parents aren't around; I am as close as you're going to get. I am Lane's legal guardian if that helps." There was a slight pause as her amber eyes shifted from surprise to curiosity. "That helps a lot. Why don't you give me 15 minutes or so to take a look at this brave dude's ankle, then we can talk over some options, once I have a better sense of what's going on." "That okay with you, Bud?" I asked as I walked over to the couch. "Yeah, that should be fine," he replied, but his eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed. For a moment, I was worried that he might be running a fever, but then I got my first look at Erin, and I understood. Maybe she wasn't classically beautiful like a movie star or swimsuit model, but she was lean and fit, and from what I could see, had more than enough curves in all the right places. It was her face, however, that captured me. She had delicate features accentuated by her high cheekbones, and there was a softness to her expression that spoke of empathy and kindness. Her eyes, though intense, had a warmth that put me instantly at ease. I realized much too late that I had been staring at Erin for an uncomfortably long time while holding the bag of steelhead filets out like some kind of sacrificial offering. While I stood frozen, the look in Erin's beautiful eyes had shifted from curiosity to amusement; I would assume at the fish-carrying simpleton standing in front of her. "Thanks, Dr. Anderson; err, Erin. I appreciate your taking a look at him and; I am going to go cook us up some fish before I make an even bigger ass of myself." Wilma joined me in the kitchen, while Erin continued to assess Lane's injured ankle. We spent the next few minutes dicing the potatoes and veggies and tossing them with some olive oil, salt, and pepper before sprinkling the filets of steelhead with a mixture of herbs. I topped the fish with some slices of a less-than-fresh, but still edible, lemon I found in the fridge, before putting the whole thing in the oven. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Dr. Natalie Crawford, OBGYN and REI, sits down with licensed acupuncturist Sadie Minkoff to discuss how acupuncture fits into the bigger picture of hormones, stress, and fertility. They explore how this approach can work alongside traditional medical care so you can feel more informed and less alone on your fertility journey. Key Topics: 1. What Acupuncture Really Is - Rethinking what “needles” actually mean in this setting - Seeing acupuncture as part of a larger, whole‑body system - How this approach aims to gently “nudge” the body 2. Fertility, Hormones, and Stress - How stress and inflammation can interfere with hormones and ovulation - Ways acupuncture may calm the nervous system and support balance - Why “normal tests” don't always mean your body feels normal 3. Using Acupuncture on the Fertility Journey - How it can be used when TTC spontaneously, with IUI, or with IVF - Why timing sessions around your cycle and treatments can matter - How it may support egg quality, implantation, and early pregnancy 4. Finding Care and Knowing Your Options - What to look for in a fertility‑focused acupuncturist - What a typical first visit and follow‑up might look like - Options if you can't access in‑person care, including at‑home support Check out Sadie's Practice Website https://reproductiveacupuncture.com/ Follow Sadie's Practice on IG @sageacupunctureaustin Pre-order Dr. Crawford's debut book, The Fertility Formula, now! ⁠https://www.nataliecrawfordmd.com/book⁠ Want to receive my weekly newsletter? Sign up at ⁠⁠⁠⁠nataliecrawfordmd.com/newsletter⁠⁠⁠⁠ to receive updates, Q&A, special content, and freebies If you haven't already, please rate, review, and follow the podcast to be notified of new episodes every Tuesday. Plus, be sure to follow along on Instagram ⁠⁠⁠⁠@nataliecrawfordmd,⁠⁠⁠⁠ check out Natalie's YouTube channel Natalie Crawford MD⁠⁠⁠⁠, and if you're interested in becoming a patient, check out ⁠⁠⁠⁠Fora Fertility. Join the Learn at Pinnacle app ⁠to earn FREE CE Credit for listening to this episode! This episode is brought to you by The Pinnacle Podcast Network! Learn more about Pinnacle at http://learnatpinnacle.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Host Jeremy Wendt sits down with Penny Meadows, Director of LBJNC Head Start, to talk about how early education is changing lives across the region. Penny shares her journey from volunteering as a Head Start parent in Crawford to leading the program that now serves 80 children in four Upper Cumberland communities—Livingston, Byrdstown, Jamestown, and Cookeville. She reflects on the program's rich history, the support that helped her earn her college degree, and the impact of initiatives like the foster grandparent program and recent grant projects. Listen To The Local Matters Podcast Today! News Talk 94.1

Join Blake Mallen as he sits down with Christa Crawford, the #1 global income earner at her company, whose organization spans multiple countries. Christa shares her remarkable journey from food stamps and a struggling custom furniture business to building one of the most successful organizations in direct selling—all while staying grounded in purpose, authenticity and unwavering belief. In this episode, you will learn: ●        How to transform limiting beliefs into unstoppable momentum ●        Why showing up as your authentic self is your greatest competitive advantage ●        The mindset shifts that turn obstacles into opportunities for growth ●        How to build a purpose-driven business that attracts true believers

Dr. Crawford Loritts shares the second part of his message, “An Uncommon Love.” There’s nothing easy about loving our enemies. Crawford reminds us it is only done through the power of the Holy Spirit within us. It’s another great lesson Jesus taught his disciples in the Sermon on the Mount and it’s one for us to learn as well.Donate to Moody Radio: http://moodyradio.org/donateto/livingalegacySee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Serie: Tu matrimonio hoy y mañana, con Crawford y Karen Loritts. Ep5. Tu ejemplo y tu caminar cuentan y son importantes.

Ann has a holiday visit with Hayden Crawford (Director of Public Relations at Collin Street Bakery). We get some new music from Jacob Price Zazz, and a new Act Locally Waco from Elizabeth Riley. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Serie: Tu matrimonio hoy y mañana, con Crawford y Karen Loritts. Ep4. ¿Crees realmente que Dios puede cambiar tu matrimonio?

Kate Crawford's Long Now Talk traces an historical arc from Renaissance perspective to AI image models, illustrating how shifts in representational power shape empires, economies—even our shared sense of reality. During the talk, Crawford gives a tour through her detailed artwork Calculating Empires. Through examples ranging from Liebig's critique of agriculture “robbing” soil nutrients, to Faraday's latex insulation that devastated rubber forests, Crawford shows how technologies have long created “metabolic rifts”: systems that extract more than they regenerate.  Don't miss the closing Q&A, where host Kevin Kelly asks Crawford what responsible, non-extractive AI might look like. 

Sean Crawford is the NPR Illinois managing editor, or news director. In this conversation he discusses his earliest radio days to his years at the statehouse before taking the helm of NPR Illinois news operations.

Serie: Tu matrimonio hoy y mañana, con Crawford y Karen Loritts. Ep3. ¿Cuán desesperadamente anhelas un cambio en tu matrimonio?

Episode #359: This week, the team discusses the WBC stripping Terence Crawford, Errol Spence's recent comments on the WBC-Crawford situation, History of fighter's issues with Sanctioning bodies, Reaction to the Draw decision between Pitbull Cruz & Lamont Roach Jr., Shabaz Masoud's win over Peter McGrail, O'Shaquie Foster's win over Stephen Fulton, Zuffa Boxing announces first official event for January 2026, Jake Paul signs Caroline DuBois, and more. CONNECT WITH US:YouTube: https://YouTube.com/@thelastroundboxingpodcast

Joan Crawford was one of the grande dames of Hollywood's classic era. But before she was an Oscar-winning star, she was Lucille LeSueur—born in a shack in San Antonio. How did Crawford work her way to the top of the studio system and make some of the great films of American cinema?

This week on Mind Power Meets Mystic, Michelle and Cinthia dive into the fifth chakra — expression, voice, truth, visibility, and speaking your message with power. And who better to join us than two-time Emmy Award–winning TV producer and PR powerhouse Stacia Crawford, founder of Stay Ready Media.Stacia spent more than three decades producing top-rated news, launching morning shows before they were a thing, and turning experts into household names on Good Morning America, CBS Evening News, CNN, Fox News, The Washington Post, Oprah Magazine, and more. Now she's the ultimate media matchmaker who helps thought leaders sharpen their message, show up with confidence, and deliver unforgettable interviews.We talk about:Why the fifth chakra is the seat of personal and professional powerHow Stacia reinvented her career after being laid offThe real reason people bomb media interviewsWhy "winging it" is sabotageHow mindset, message, and media training intersectWhy your story usually isn't actually about youPractical steps to get yourself media-readyPlus — Cinthia and Michelle share their monthly free offerings:✨ Strategic Intuition for Greater Business Success (Third Thursdays)✨ The Prosperity Flow: Shift Your Space, Shift Your Life (First Fridays)✨ Nourish & Flourish Hypnosis Experience✨ Small Business Marketing TalksStacia closes out with her top three essentials to becoming an undeniable media expert, how to get booked consistently, and why the right strategy can turn one segment into many more.If you're ready to speak your truth, amplify your voice, and step into the spotlight — this episode is your masterclass.

The fellas are back with another brutally honest and hilariously unfiltered episode of the Bad Speakers Podcast, where hip-hop, sports, and real-life debates collide. This week's conversation gets spicy fast — from Diddy's ongoing scandals to NBA legends, boxing drama, relationship truth-telling, and the hottest rappers of 2025. The episode jumps off with a full breakdown of the Diddy documentary and whether 50 Cent is wrong for exposing Diddy's alleged shady business practices and sexual assault accusations. Is 50 just being petty… or is he doing necessary work? Next, the crew dives into Chris Paul being sent home by the Clippers during his retirement season, after clashing with teammates and management. Did CP3 deserve better? In boxing news, they react to Terence Crawford being stripped of his WBC title for refusing to pay a $300K sanctioning fee — is boxing corrupt, or is Crawford in the right? Then it gets heated with NBA talk as the guys break down LeBron James ending his double-digit scoring streak to make "the right play." Should the streak still count? And does Michael Jordan actually hold the real scoring streak? Plus, they debate whether MJ had a limited bag, or if the younger generation is just rewriting history out of hate. On the music side, they react to Billboard's 10 Hottest Female Rappers of 2025, review Lil Baby's new album “The Leaks,” and discuss 21 Savage's upcoming project “What Happened to the Streets?” They also break down a wild rumor involving a Buffalo wide receiver possibly point shaving, ask the age-old question “Are there any good women left?”, and celebrate Shedeur Sanders' breakout game with 300 yards and 3 TDs. This episode is a full mix of comedy, cultural commentary, sports debates, relationship talk, and hip-hop insight — the exact brand of intelligent ignorance you come here for. FOLLOW US⬇️ Ya Boi Shad - https://www.instagram.com/itsyaboishad/ G. Downs - https://www.instagram.com/gdowns1486/ https://www.youtube.com/c/BadSpeakersTV https://www.instagram.com/badspeakerspodcast https://www.tiktok.com/@badspeakerspodcast https://twitter.com/BadSpeakers https://www.facebook.com/badspeakerspodcast

Dr. Natalie Crawford, a board-certified OBGYN and REI, guides listeners through the often misunderstood world of pregnancy loss. Using both her professional knowledge and personal insights, she helps you gain confidence in understanding this experience, whether you're facing it yourself or supporting someone who is. Find out what's actually happening, why it matters, and the important steps you can take next. Key Topics: 1. What Is Pregnancy Loss? - Common types of pregnancy loss and what the medical terms mean - Why pregnancy loss happens more frequently than most people realize - Dispelling shame and myths 2. Navigating the Emotional Experience - The wide range of feelings and reactions people may have. - Encouraging openness and seeking support from loved ones. - Why it's okay to grieve in your own way and at your own pace. 3. Understanding the Causes - Overview of possible reasons, from genetics to physical health - How hormones and biology can impact pregnancy. - Emphasizing that many factors are beyond one's control 4. Management & Healing - What to expect medically: natural healing, medication options, and procedures. - The importance of follow-up care and monitoring. - Pathways to recovery and when to consider further evaluation. Pre-order Dr. Crawford's debut book, The Fertility Formula, now! ⁠https://www.nataliecrawfordmd.com/book⁠ Want to receive my weekly newsletter? Sign up at ⁠⁠⁠⁠nataliecrawfordmd.com/newsletter⁠⁠⁠⁠ to receive updates, Q&A, special content, and freebies If you haven't already, please rate, review, and follow the podcast to be notified of new episodes every Tuesday. Plus, be sure to follow along on Instagram ⁠⁠⁠⁠@nataliecrawfordmd,⁠⁠⁠⁠ check out Natalie's YouTube channel Natalie Crawford MD⁠⁠⁠⁠, and if you're interested in becoming a patient, check out ⁠⁠⁠⁠Fora Fertility. Join the Learn at Pinnacle app ⁠to earn FREE CE Credit for listening to this episode! This episode is brought to you by The Pinnacle Podcast Network! Learn more about Pinnacle at http://learnatpinnacle.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I used to think fertility was pure luck — until conversations like this changed everything. I've watched women do everything right and still struggle… while others who ignored all the “rules” conceived effortlessly. It's confusing, emotional, and at times, deeply unfair. But today's guest, Dr. Natalie Crawford, explains exactly why this happens — and what women actually can control. In this episode, we break down the science of fertility in a way every woman deserves to understand — whether you're 25, 35, or 45. Most importantly, Dr. Crawford reveals the 5 fertility non-negotiables — the foundational biological factors every woman should understand long before she ever tries to conceive. This is one of the most empowering episodes we've created — because fertility shouldn't be a mystery, and women deserve better answers. *** "The Fertility Formula" — Dr. Natalie Crawford's upcoming book (available now for preorder). About the guest: Dr. Natalie Crawford, MD, is a board-certified OB-GYN and Reproductive Endocrinology & Infertility specialist. Known for her evidence-based, compassionate approach, she helps women understand their hormones, fertility, and metabolic health while guiding thousands through IVF, cycle optimization, and reproductive longevity. She is the author of the upcoming book The Fertility Formula.  *** Reduce your risk of Alzheimer's with my science-backed protocol for women 30+: https://go.neuroathletics.com.au/brain-code-yt Subscribe to The Neuro Experience for more conversations at the intersection of brain science and performance. I'm committed to bringing you evidence-based insights that you can apply to your own health journey. *** A huge thank you to my sponsors for supporting this episode. Check them out and enjoy exclusive discounts: Cure Hydration You can get 20% off your first order at ⁠https://curehydration.com/neuro⁠ with code NEURO. Huel Get Huel today with this exclusive offer for New Customers of 15% OFF with code neuro at ⁠https://huel.com/⁠neuro (Minimum $75 purchase). Timeline My friends at Timeline are offering 20% off, just for my listeners. Head to ⁠https://timeline.com/neuro⁠ to get started. Hollow Socks For a limited time, Hollow Socks is having a Buy 3, Get 3 Free Sale. Head to ⁠https://Hollowsocks.com⁠ today to check it out. That's ⁠https://HollowSocks.com⁠ for up to 50% off your order. Jones Road Beauty For a limited time our listeners are getting a free Cool Gloss on their first purchase when they use code NEURO at checkout. Just head to ⁠https://Jonesroadbeauty.com⁠ *** I'm Louisa Nicola — clinical neurophysiologist — Alzheimer's prevention specialist — founder of Neuro Athletics. My mission is to translate cutting-edge neuroscience into actionable strategies for cognitive longevity, peak performance, and brain disease prevention. If you're committed to optimizing your brain — reducing Alzheimer's risk — and staying mentally sharp for life, you're in the right place. Stay sharp. Stay informed. Join thousands who subscribe to the Neuro Athletics Newsletter → https://bit.ly/3ewI5P0 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/louisanicola_/ Twitter : https://twitter.com/louisanicola_ *** Topics discussed: 00:00 – Intro 01:26 – Fertility: Not Luck—It's Health 03:55 – Inflammation: The Hidden Driver of Infertility 07:36 – AMH Explained: Egg Quantity vs. Quality 08:13 – How Eggs Work: The “Vault” & Aging 09:42 – How Inflammation Damages Eggs & Hormones 19:06 – Why No One Teaches Women to Track Cycles 20:14 – Overtraining, Stress & Losing Your Period 23:53 – IVF Explained: What Really Happens 26:55 – Frozen vs. Fresh Embryos & Success Rates 35:06 – Sperm Quality: The Missing Half of Fertility 49:42 – What Every Woman Should Do at 28 or 38 53:06 – Sleep, Stress & Hormones: The Fertility Non-Negotiables Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Pre-Order The Forever Strong PLAYBOOK and receive exclusive bonuses: https://drgabriellelyon.com/playbook/Want ad-free episodes, exclusives and access to community Q&As? Subscribe to Forever Strong Insider: https://foreverstrong.supercast.comDr. Gabrielle Lyon sits down with fertility specialist Dr. Natalie Crawford to tackle the urgent rise in infertility across both men and women. Dr. Crawford, an advocate for proactive reproductive health, reveals why inflammation is hijacking your fertility and why the old dogma that "age is the only factor" for egg quality is dangerously incomplete.They cover critical, actionable steps—from the most important lifestyle changes you can make before IVF, to the toxic habits that are directly lowering sperm counts and causing miscarriages. Learn the three essential fertility awareness methods (FAMs) and what your doctor is missing when they check your thyroid.Who is Natalie Crawford:Natalie Crawford is a double board-certified fertility doctor with a nutrition background, here to help you understand your body and hormones, optimize your lifestyle, and take control of your reproductive future with confidence.Thank you to our sponsors: Timeline - Get 20% off your order at https://timeline.com/LYON BON CHARGE Holiday Sale https://boncharge.com for 25% off Don't miss NOBL's biggest Sale of the Year! Head to NOBLTravel.com for up to 58% off your entire order! Find Natalie Crawford at: Web: https://www.nataliecrawfordmd.com/https://www.youtube.com/c/NatalieCrawfordMD/videosPODCASThttps://www.nataliecrawfordmd.com/blog-1Find Dr. Gabrielle Lyon at: Instagram:@drgabriellelyon TikTok: @drgabriellelyonFacebook: facebook.com/doctorgabriellelyonYouTube: youtube.com/@DrGabrielleLyonX (Twitter): x.com/drgabriellelyonApply to become a patient – https://drgabriellelyon.com/new-patient-inquiry/Join my weekly newsletter – https://institute-for-muscle-centric-medicine.ck.pagePre-order my new book - https://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1668085623 Disclaimers: This episode includes paid sponsorships. The Dr. Gabrielle Lyon Podcast and YouTube are for general information purposes only and do not constitute the practice of medicine, nursing, or other professional health care services,...

Serie: Tu matrimonio hoy y mañana, con Crawford y Karen Loritts. Ep2. El amor es una elección que debemos hacer día tras día.

Serie: Tu matrimonio hoy y mañana, con Crawford y Karen Loritts. Ep1. La cruz lo cambia todo en nuestras vidas.

Subscribe To The Willie D Live Audio Podcast at:https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/williedlivepodcastArtistActivist InvestorPodcasterSupport This ChannelCashApp http://cash.app/$williedlive PayPal http://www.paypal.me/williedlive Support My Foundationhttps://marvelousbridge.orgFollow me on Social Media:Instagram: williedliveTwitter: williedliveTikTok: williedliveFacebook: williedofficial

In this episode, I spoke with author Scott Eyman regarding his book "Joan Crawford A Women's Face'. Film historian and acclaimed New York Times bestselling biographer Scott Eyman has written the definitive biography of Hollywood icon Joan Crawford, drawing on never-before-seen documents and photos from the Crawford estate.

This episode is brought to you by PPV.COM! (0:00) - Intro (1:45) - Pitbull and Roach fight to a draw (22:07) - O'Shaquie Foster dominates Stephen Fulton (32:20) - WBC sanctioning fees, TKO and Crawford reaction (44:25) - Erislandy Lara dec. Johan Gonzalez (47:07) - Jesus Ramos def. Shane Mosley Jr. (51:25) - Goodbye Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Boxing is ABSOLUTELY ON FIRE and this episode of Ringside Reporter covers one of the wildest weeks in combat sports history! We break down the massive PBC Pay-Per-View card headlined by Isaac "Pitbull" Cruz vs Lamont Roach for the Interim WBC Super Lightweight title, plus huge championship drama, shocking news, and future superfights that could shake the sport to its core! We dive deep into the O'Shaquie Foster vs Stephen Fulton controversy after Fulton MISSES WEIGHT, and what that means for the WBC Super Featherweight title picture. Plus, Erislandy Lara continues his ageless run against Johan Gonzalez, while Jesus Ramos vs Shane Mosley Jr. and Frank Martin vs Rances Barthelemy add serious heat to the undercard. Internationally, the spotlight shifts to Australia as Jai Opetaia defends his IBF Cruiserweight title against Huseyin Cinkara, with massive implications for the global cruiserweight division. But the real fireworks come from the NEWS AND RUMORS:

Erin just published her first book, "Avail," which you can order here: https://www.pauldrybooks.com/products/avail "Avail" features a long prose-poem which titles the book and winds through sections of lineated, often formal poems. The prose-poem comprises a series of lyric meditations on the image of the veil—from religious and cultural veils, to veils imbedded in idiom and metaphor, to veiled women in art and classic films, to veils drawn and parted by illness and death—which slowly divulge the harrowing details of the poet's blood disorder. Throughout, allusions to classic film, literature, and art serve as the "veils" with which the poet attempts to obscure the self-estrangement and vulnerability her illness has induced—insecurities which follow her long after her recovery. In a poem about a break-up set during her career as a jazz singer and against the backdrop of a 1930s screwball comedy, she longs "to shake life by the martini (but stay self- / possessed), to star in the movie of myself / instead of playing second lead." During a visit to Naples, Mt. Vesuvius becomes "a Crawford eyebrow / arched over the bay." And in California, after a trip to the Getty Villa, she recalls Sontag's "missive on allusion, that no part / of any work is new, that all is reproduction." By the end of the collection, O'Luanaigh has fashioned from the sum of these various allusions her own poetic identity, unveiled in the poems themselves.

This week Tony shared a message on embracing the joy of Christmas by remembering Christ's birth, inviting others to celebrate, and living out Jesus's example of love and service. If you would like to reach out or know more about Jesus, please visit curatechurch.com or email hello@curatechurch.com. We'd love to connect and help you in your journey of faith.

Pete and Sam were joined by Kolby Crawford from 247Sports and VT Scoop to talk about the Hokies wild finish to the 2026 recruiting cycle. James Franklin put on an absolute clinic, and the country took notice. The boys close out the episode with a brief recap of the UVA loss.

Dr. Natalie Crawford is joined by Dr. Amanda Skillern to break down the IVF experience in a way that feels supportive, clear, and reassuring. Together, they discuss what to expect from beginning to end, choosing the best care team for your needs, and how to feel more confident and prepared during your fertility journey. Key Topics:1. Understanding IVF - What IVF is, and why it often takes more time and steps than people expect - How clinics create a plan that matches your personal goals and circumstances - Setting realistic expectations and keeping perspective throughout the process 2. Knowing What to Ask - Simple questions you can ask during appointments to stay informed - Why understanding your options and speaking up matters - How to communicate with your team 3. Personalizing Your Journey - The importance of having your care tailored to you- How making adjustments along the way can lead to better support and outcomes - How to know when it's time to get another opinion or try a different approach 4. Empowerment and Support - How to keep yourself motivated during ups and downs - Tips for choosing a clinic and team that make you feel heard - Reminders that you can't control every outcome, but you can control the journey Pre-order Dr. Crawford's debut book, The Fertility Formula, now! ⁠https://www.nataliecrawfordmd.com/book⁠ Follow Fora Fertility on Instagram ⁠@forafertility⁠ Become a patient https://www.forafertility.com/ Want to receive my weekly newsletter? Sign up at ⁠⁠⁠⁠nataliecrawfordmd.com/newsletter⁠⁠⁠⁠ to receive updates, Q&A, special content, and freebies If you haven't already, please rate, review, and follow the podcast to be notified of new episodes every Tuesday. Plus, be sure to follow along on Instagram ⁠⁠⁠⁠@nataliecrawfordmd,⁠⁠⁠⁠ check out Natalie's YouTube channel Natalie Crawford MD⁠⁠⁠⁠, and if you're interested in becoming a patient, check out ⁠⁠⁠⁠Fora Fertility. Join the Learn at Pinnacle app ⁠to earn FREE CE Credit for listening to this episode! This episode is brought to you by The Pinnacle Podcast Network! Learn more about Pinnacle at http://learnatpinnacle.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome back to another episode of Stay True Podcast! This week, Madi and Grant sit down with evangelist, podcaster, and street-missionary, Bryce Crawford! From nearly ending his life in a dark season of depression and anxiety to encountering Jesus in a Waffle House, Bryce shares the moment everything changed and how it ignited his calling to preach the Gospel with boldness, compassion, and truth. In this conversation, Madi, Grant, and Bryce dive deep into evangelism: why it matters, what holds us back, and how to live on mission with courage even when culture pushes back. Bryce opens up about his recent engagement and the God-centered way their relationship began. If you've ever felt unqualified, nervous, or unsure of how to talk about Jesus, this episode will challenge you, encourage you, and equip you to step into the calling God has already given you. Stay you and stay true.