Nancy Range Anderson – Author

  Paul and me in his wonderful  old beach house. Every summer I've looked for the flag. It flew outside Paul's beach house, and whenever I saw it, I knew my parents' old friend had returned from PA for another season in his family's old home across the street from the ocean. This year I watched for it again. Today it was finally there. As we drove by, we saw a party in the yard and wondered how Paul was doing. We saw lots of people on the porch but I didn't see him as he usually sat in the big Adirondack chair in the middle of the porch. As we drove on, I suddenly wondered if it was a memorial party.  When I got home, I searched his name and found his obituary.  He passed away this past November at the age of 96. Last summer I thought about inviting him to dinner. I hesitated, wondering if the stairs to our house would be difficult, and told myself we'd meet at a restaurant instead. I never made the call. Reading about Paul's death felt as if anothe...

This morning began with yoga on the beach. Then coffee with a friend. A quick phone call with my sister. A quick check-in with my son. And a stop to pick up a gift for my grandson. At first glance, it seemed like just another morning. And somehow I was able to get dinner into the crock pot!  Still, as I looked back on it, I realized something. Every part of my day was connected by people I love. Sometimes we think memories are made during vacations, birthdays, or holidays. But I wonder if they're really created in these ordinary moments—the morning coffee, the unexpected phone call, the thoughtful errand, the conversation that simply says, "I'm thinking of you." Those are the moments that quietly weave the fabric of a family. That's one of the messages behind Caitlin's Star . Love isn't measured only by life's biggest celebrations. It's found in the small moments of connection that fill our days. One day, today's ordinary morning may ...

  Augie wouldn't budge from the porch this morning, the sun was too inviting. He got me thinking about the things we miss in our bustling day to day lives. Maybe we should be a little more dog-like. Soak up the sunshine whenever we can. Stretch often. Be friendly to everyone we meet—while still being wise enough to stay cautious. Be fiercely loyal to the people we love. Get excited when someone you love walks through the door  Get excited about the little things. Forgive quickly. Live in the moment instead of worrying about tomorrow. Take walks, breathe fresh air, and notice what's around us. And when we're tired... Take a nap without feeling guilty. Dogs have a way of embracing life with joy, gratitude, and simplicity. They don't rush through the day checking off endless to-do lists. They remind us that sometimes the best moments are the sweet ones—a patch of warm sunshine, a familiar face, a gentle breeze. Maybe they know something we've forgotten.

  This past Father's Day I was away with my grandchildren, so I never had the chance to write about my own dad. As the day passed, I found myself thinking about him—not just because I miss him, but because of all that he never had the opportunity to see. He never met his four great-grandchildren. He never watched his grandchildren grow into the remarkable adults they have become. After retiring from the Army, my dad became a teacher. I often think about how proud he would have been to see his granddaughter choose the same profession and devote her life to helping children learn and grow. S he teaches and leads with compassion, an open mind, patience, and a genuine belief that every child deserves to be understood. He passed away when his grandson was only fourteen months old, so he never had the chance to discover how much they would have in common. Both are thoughtful, introspective, wise, and the kind of people who make others stop and think. As I reflected on Father's Day, I...

  Christmas with my Mom Mom, Pop Pop, mom, sister and me. As I grow older, I'm beginning to realize that the people we love never truly leave us.  My grandmother lives on in the recipes I bake and the importance I place on family  and traditions.  My grandfather lives on in my love of animals, nature, art, and creativity. Even his habit of helping others during difficult times may have found its way into my own life through training, coaching, and volunteering. Perhaps the greatest legacy isn't what we leave behind. Perhaps it's what we pass forward. That idea is one of the inspirations behind Caitlin's Star —a story about love, memories, and the lasting impact of the people who help shape our lives. Our memories stay with us. Who are you carrying forward today?

  Today I found myself thinking about the many ways we use the word support . The thought first came to me during yoga when I placed blocks beneath my knees. The blocks provided support, allowing me to move safely and comfortably despite the limitations of my recovering knee. Later, at physical therapy, my therapist gently cradled my leg as he manipulated the joint. "Just relax into me," he said. As I did, my knee naturally bent without the aching resistance I often feel when I try to force the movement myself. Two different situations with two different kinds of support. One came from an object and the other came from another person. It made me realize that support takes many forms in our lives. Sometimes support is external. A yoga block. A cane. A railing. A brace. Something that helps us do what we cannot yet do on our own. Other times support is more personal. It may be a friend who listens without judgment, a kind word during a difficult day, a hug wh...

Every Friday and Saturday I try to get to the beach for yoga. The sessions start after Memorial Day and run until the weather gets cool in September or October.  I always take pictures as I get there and when I leave. No two mornings are the same. The light changes, the tides shift, the seasons change and the weather can be iffy. Whatever happens on the surface, the experience remains the same -it's comforting and familiar.     The Journey The path through the dunes. The footprints in the sand. The decision to begin.                   The Practice A blanket on the beach. Movement. Breath. Community. Doing what I can.                   The Peace The ocean. The horizon. The birds, the surfers. Remembering to breathe and reminding myself that  healing doesn't always happen all at once.            Sometimes it happens one step, one practice, and o...

  Why is it that our love and worry for our animals can overcome us to the point of crying? This morning I had to bring our little dachshund mix to the vet for teeth extractions, a cleaning, and the removal of a mass on his back. He shook in the car as we drove to the veterinarian and looked at me as if I were sending him to an awful fate. We had to stop food and water at 10:00 p.m. last night. This morning he nudged me as if to say, "Where is my breakfast?" Drop-off was at 6:30 a.m. — so early and so unlike our usual routine. The thing about our pets, and it can be both a curse and a blessing, is that they don't know what's going on. Unlike humans, they don't understand surgery, anesthesia, recovery, or that temporary discomfort may lead to better health. Augie didn't know that we were trying to help him. He only knew that he didn't get breakfast, that his morning routine had changed, and that his people were taking him to that place that he doesn't l...

  Look Up Sometimes it is a struggle to move from the comfortable to something new. The ground is uneven, it can seem scary, the path is uncertain, and we don't always know what lies ahead. But if we spend all our time looking down at the obstacles, we miss the beauty that surrounds us. So when the path feels difficult, look up.   There is a path. There is light. There is hope. Just look up. Nancy Range Anderson 

I just baked a "healthier" chocolate cake. As I cleaned up the mixing bowls, I found myself thinking about all the treats my mother made while we were growing up.  She wasn't really a baker. She was more of a delicious meal preparer. Somehow, she could put together a meal that made everyone feel welcome and well-fed. Still, her desserts were always satisfying.  There is one recipe that my mother did make. I think she got it off of the back of a can of condensed milk.  For years, I didn't know the real name of these bars. To me, they were simply "Those Chocolate Things My Mother Would Make." Whenever they appeared in the kitchen, I knew they wouldn't last long. They were rich, sweet, and somehow seemed a little magical. As a child, I never wondered what they were called. I just knew that Mom made them, and that was enough. I developed my love of baking when I was about twelve years old. I would spend hours experimenting in the kitchen while my family ha...