Nancy Range Anderson – Author

  Yesterday, I noticed something small, but it stuck with me. As I was walking, I realized I didn’t need to look down at every step. For weeks, I have been doing just that, watching carefully and making sure I felt steady. It was part of the healing. But yesterday felt a little different. I caught myself looking ahead. Not the whole time, I still glanced down now and then, but enough to notice the shift. And it made me think about the job search. In the beginning, it feels a lot like looking down at your feet. You're focused on the next step. Your résumé. Your LinkedIn profile. Networking, maybe for the first time in a long time. Each step takes thought, and sometimes a little courage. It can feel slow and at times frustrating. Over time, if you keep at it something changes. You get a bit more comfortable and confident. You start to lift your head and think not just about the next step, but about where you are going. The kind of role you want. The kind of company ...

Yesterday, dear friends of mine lost their beautiful dog, Teddy. Teddy was a 120-pound goofball in the very best way. When he was happy, he would prance and bark, as if the world itself was something to celebrate. He loved everyone. If you were nearby, he would find you, lean in, and ask for a cuddle or a scratch. Augie loved him too and sometimes ran under him. Just a few weeks ago, we were at our friends' home for a party. Teddy was stretched out right in the middle of the floor, completely at ease, as guests stepped over him one by one. He didn’t move. He didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed to love it. That was Teddy. Content to be surrounded by people and his doggy friends. Which makes yesterday and even today feel all the more sad. A few days ago, his parents left on a well-deserved trip vacation. It wasn’t an easy decision. They wondered if they should go but they believed there was still time. They left Teddy in the caring hands of a friend. Someone they trusted and ...

Photo by Nancy Range Anderson When people asked how I came up with the name Blackbird Learning Associates, LLC , I tell them a story that sounds unbelievable, but is true. In 2009, I founded Blackbird Learning Associates after the loss of a career I had loved. But the name itself came to me during one of the hardest moments of my life. In 2008, I was let go from my Learning and Development role at a large pharmaceutical company in New Jersey. I had spent 21 years there. I loved my job, my coworkers, and the work I had accomplished. I had started there as a young single mother in my early 30s, and in many ways, I grew up in that company. On June 8, 2008, our team was called into a conference room and told that, because of restructuring, some of us would be outsourced. I was not worried. I was the only person doing my particular job, I had strong performance reviews, and I believed I was valued. But that wasn’t enough and I lost my job. I was devastated. The following week, I r...

It’s funny how music, especially certain songs, can bring you back almost instantly to another time in your life. We’ve all experienced it. A few notes, a familiar voice, and suddenly you’re not where you are… you’re where you were. I remember being nine years old. A song played on the car radio as we drove to a basketball game on a snowy night. My father hurt his shoulder in that game, and my mother was worried about the snow piling up. I don’t remember everything about that night but I remember that song. When I was sixteen, I sent a song dedication to my crush. He would never hear it because I sent it to a radio station in Long Island when I lived in New Jersey. It didn’t matter. The act of sending it felt important, hopeful, and very much like being sixteen. College was filled with music. Some rock, some beach music, and some songs that were simply “current” at the time but now, they carry the weight of friendships, first love, late nights, and growing independence. The oth...

Last night, I held a reading of Caitlin’s Star in my neighborhood. It was a small, comfortable gathering—just the right kind of setting for a story like this. I shared the history of the book and what it has meant to my own family, and then I read it aloud. As I read, I spoke about the interactive prompts and the journaling pages—how they are meant to help families talk, remember, and begin conversations that aren’t always easy. At the end of the evening, I invited everyone to take a star-shaped piece of paper and write the name of someone they love, along with what they believe that person’s “special job among the stars” might be. Some people chose to share. Others didn’t. And that was the beauty of it. Some thoughts were spoken out loud. Others were held close to the heart. There were smiles. There were a few laughs. And yes… there were more than a few smiles. Moments like this remind me why I wrote Caitlin’s Star . It's just as a story, but as a way to remember, to conn...

  I’ve been reading Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, and she uses a word that really stayed with me: Zerrissenheit — being torn into a thousand pieces. It’s that feeling of being fragmented , where pieces of you are given to everyone else, and very little is left whole. She wrote about how women are often pulled in so many directions… home, work, family, responsibilities… that there’s barely time to breathe. The book was written in 1953, but it still feels so true today. I remember those days so clearly. When I felt overwhelmed, I didn’t always have the answers but I found a few ways to come back to myself. Sometimes it was music—especially Jimmy Buffett’s “Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On.” Sometimes it was a walk to the ocean, something I’ve done since I was a girl. Anne wrote about taking time for yourself—a week, a day, an hour or even a few minutes. But I think sometimes it’s even smaller than that. A deep breath, a prayer or a moment to gather y...

  You will get there eventually. Every step of the way may not be to your liking but if you keep up, you may reach your goal. I took this picture years ago while standing at the rim of the Grand Canyon. It was breathtaking. It was awe inspiring. It was so much bigger than you and me. The picture and quote showed up today as I was looking for something else but it was perfect timing.  I was feeling a bit frustrated due to some physical (that knee again) limitations and book marketing frustrations. My dad used to say, "This too shall pass." (OK maybe not my knee yet).  I've been through some battles that were a lot tougher than this. We all carry something and we've all had doubts.  Maybe that’s what healing, growth, and change really are—learning to look back not with regret, but with recognition. A reminder to myself… and maybe to you too.    

  Quote from Caitlin's Star We’ve all felt this about someone… “I’ll always miss you.” In Caitlin’s Star , Caitlin carries Grandmother Pearl’s star in her pocket—something she can hold onto, something that keeps her close. In real life, we don’t have “stars” we can carry. But we do have other things— a photograph, a letter, a voicemail, a recording… or sometimes nothing at all. Just memories. And over time, we learn that memories can be enough. They help us hold on, even as we move forward. As I’ve shared this book, I’ve come to realize that while it was written for children, it often resonates just as deeply with adults—especially when we’re searching for ways to remember, reflect, and begin

  For years as a Learning & Development professional my motto was "Know your Audience". I wouldn't design a Managing the Technical Professional course for people who weren't managing technical professionals. In that vein I've struggled with my audience for Caitlin's Star. I wrote the book for a child experiencing a loss so I assumed that my audience would be children. Lately, my audience is changing.   I've found that it’s often the adults who are most moved by the story. Parents. Grandparents. Caregivers. The ones who are trying to find the right words and sometimes don’t know where to begin.   When I read the story in small groups, children listen. But it’s the adults who reflect, who share, and who carry the meaning with them when they leave.   And I’ve come to realize something: Caitlin’s Star was written for children, but it was created for the adults who love them—and who are looking for a way to talk about loss.   So moving forward, tha...

Photo taken by Nancy Range Anderson    Back when I was a consultant and working with adults, I asked this question, “If you could say anything to your younger self what would it be?” I got lots of answers, some funny, some deep and some that had an underlying meaning known only to that person.         Some of the responses including my own were: ·        Be Yourself, not what you think you should be ·        Be Yourself, not a clone of someone else ·        Follow your dreams ·        Forgive yourself (this one was mentioned a lot) ·        Choose a career in a field that excites you ·        Don’t be so hard on yourself ·        Get up after falling down ·        Learn from your mistakes ·  ...

“It’s all I can do…” That lyric from an old song by The Cars came to me today and by the end of the morning, I understood exactly why. This picture is the clubhouse in our neighborhood. It’s about to be renovated, and today they were liquidating some of the contents. We went early, and I was on a mission to pick up a few teaspoons and martini glasses. I took the ramp up, bought what we came for and turned to leave. On the way out, I stood at the top of these stairs and thought, Let me try this. I’ve been practicing at physical therapy and although I have limited practice at home I felt pretty strong. But when I tried to walk down them the way I used to, my knee wouldn’t bend enough. So there I was going down step by step, just like a toddler and I was so frustrated. I wondered if I’d ever run down the stairs like I used to.   But I stuck with it..slowly. Carefully. One foot, then the other. “It’s all I can do.” And in that moment, I realized something. Someti...