Amanda Lauer's Blog, page 2

The Art of Retiring

The decision was made about a year ago that my husband would be retiring in May of 2024. John, being the planner and critical thinker that he is, began studying the topic with the goal of us making the best decisions in retirement for our finances, health, and mental well-being. He’s been learning about retirement by talking with people who are already retired, we have a financial advisor and financial retirement-planning software, and we’ve been watching countless YouTube videos on this topic over the last several months.

Our favorite YouTube retirement gurus so far are Joe Kuhn (joekuhnlovesretirement), Dwayne (retirearly500k), Azul Wells, Norm & Tina (This Is Our Retirement), Mark & Jody Rollins (Retirement Transformed), Tai Kim (Financial Tortoise), and James Conole (Root Financial).

The common themes in these videos are: The five things I learned…, the 10 things not to do…, the six things I wished I’d have known…, etc. Bullet points, lots of bullet points. Here are a few tidbits we’ve picked up about retirement from these sources:

Planning for retirement financially should start long before you retire so that your money is working for you while you’re still working.When you are getting ready to retire, it’s probably a good idea to consult with an expert (fee only) so you know which buckets to start taking your money from (IRAs, 401ks, etc.) to get the best tax advantages in your retirement years.60-70 are your go-go years, 70-80 are your go-slow years, 80-90 are your no-go years. The younger you are, the more health and vitality you’ll have for traveling, adventures, etc. You may want to consider retiring earlier than you’d once planned.Every five years from 60 on, your energy and stamina decrease substantially. If you have the financial means to retire early, it may again be something to consider.In many cases, people need less money to retire than they think they do. This is where guidance from a professional may be prudent so you’re not missing out on your healthiest years of retirement.Rather than retiring from something, you should be retiring to something. It can be difficult to enjoy your retirement years if you don’t have a sense of purpose.For many people retiring, you’re not only leaving a job, but leaving a job title behind. This is the ideal time to rebrand yourself.Do everything you can to stay healthy and fit!Decrease the number of calories you consume each day. Your metabolism decreases substantially as you age.If you retire and are financially set for life but end up going back to work for some sense of fulfillment, realize that you are essentially working for free. The money you’ll earn you’ll never spend. It will go to your heirs in the end.Live in a sense of gratitude!Find a professional to hep navigate health insurance coverage.Work on your relationship with your spouse. Retirement takes adjusting from both partners.Find a social network so you don’t feel isolated, whether it’s volunteering for something like Habitat for Humanity or joining a pickleball league.

Most people look forward to their retirement for years. The thing no one tells you is what an adjustment it is. We found this philosophy to be helpful as we started retirement:

Take the time you need to go for walks, declutter, catch up with family and friends, travel, paint your house, anything that is meaningful to allow your mind and body to start new rhythms. Once this starts feeling more boring than anything else, you’re ready to embark on the “start of the new!”

John has said from day one that he’s not retiring from all work, he was just retiring after 40 years with the same company. Now it’s time to pursue some interests of his own. With that in mind, as opportunities for streams of income in retirement come along, we’ve started using these two rules to decide whether we are going to pursue them or not.

Will this have a negative impact on our physical or mental health? If the answer is yes, then we say no.Would I do this even if I wasn’t getting paid? If the answer isn’t yes, we say no.

Three weeks in, we’re enjoying every moment of our retirement. It does help that we retired in late spring, so we’ve had the chance to spend most days outdoors either riding our new e-bikes, walking, going to outdoor concerts, etc. We’ve got pickleball racquets and frisbee golf discs ready to use when we find the time.

 

Each season will bring us new adventures. We’re grateful we made it to this point in our lives, and in good health. I’ll check back in and let you know how it goes further down the line. Any retirees have any tips to add or feedback on how retirement is going for you? Send me a comment, I’d love to hear your thoughts!  

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The Perfect Note

Last week our youngest daughter was in town to attend her godson’s First Communion. She was still asleep when I headed out to Bible study and Mass Friday morning, so I asked my husband to let her know what time I planned to return. I figured he’d just mention something to her before he left for work. When I got back to the house, there was a note on the kitchen table on a pad of paper, “Mom will be home at 8:40 AM!”

 

When I saw that note, I did a doubletake. As simple as it was, I haven’t seen a handwritten note left on our countertop—or any countertop—in years. This is something that was so commonplace back in the day, but now, with instant communication via texting, these notes have gone the way of the dinosaur.

 

Looking at the writing on the sheet, memories flooded through my mind. Like John and I stopping in to see his parents. If they weren’t home, inevitably there’d be a note stating where they went and when they planned to be home. (With 12 children in his family, there was always someone stopping by.)

 

Thinking back further, I can remember notes from childhood. I can’t picture them word for word, but I’m imagining the notes my mom left for us three kids when she traded her stay-at-home mom status for part-time work at a jewelry store. Notes about what time she’d be home from work, or what temperature to set the oven and what time to start cooking the meatloaf.

 

How about love notes? John’s parents were notorious for leaving notes scattered around their house for their “Sweetie.” John and I have had our share of them too. Some of them I’ve kept all these years and glance at every now and then. They always bring a smile to my face.

 

Anyone else remember communicating with hand-written notes scribbled on pads of paper? Anyone even have small pads of paper in their house still? If it wasn’t for the conferences I attend and the charitable donations we make, I may not have any. But, since we do, maybe it’s time to pick up that pen and make use of them. I’m sure my “Sweetie” would appreciate it!

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Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

 

Easter was especially memorable for John and me this year. We had all eight of our grandchildren (ranging from 5.5 months to 11 years old) with us the week after Easter Sunday. Between them and their parents who were able to make it into town, there were 15 of us eating meals together every day, and 10 of us scattered throughout the house sleeping each night. It was a joyous, boisterous, loud, happy week. And, as a bonus, we got an unexpected snowstorm which made for hours of fun playing outside for the kids who get almost no snow in their areas.

One of my favorite things (besides rocking the 5-month-old and holding him while he slept) was sitting back (make that, working in the kitchen or folding laundry) and watching and listening as everyone interacted with each other. Our children and grandchildren are so close that they are not only family but best friends.

Oh, my goodness, was it hard to say goodbye when each family went on their way. Three of our grandchildren live on the West Coast, so we hadn’t seen them since last summer. Lucky for us, we’re planning a field trip out there this summer, so we’ll get to see them in the not-too-distant future.

Two of the other grandbabies are 500+ miles from us, but that’s a trip we can make by car, so we’ve been fortunate to see them multiple times in the last seven months. Even so, I cried as they packed up— even more than our 3-year-old granddaughter did when she realized that she was leaving.

My question for John after the house was empty and we could finally hear each other again was, did we do too good of a job raising our kids? The four of them went to colleges in four different states, and basically were home only when school was on break. They’re confident, competent, and comfortable establishing roots in other areas of the country.

At one point after college all four of them were living out of state. At least we now have one family—and three grandchildren—living close by again. Which is not only a blessing to us, but a blessing to my parents (their great-grandparents) as well. We get to be involved in their day-to-day lives. Everything from attending school events, to babysitting, to having front-row seats at their sporting events, to attending Mass together most Sundays. It’s wonderful having them near for the holidays, long weekends, local festivals, and special events like First Communion.

Wrapping my arms around our middle daughter as she was getting ready to start her journey home, I could barely choke out the words, “This is what I get for doing everything in my power to be the best mom I could be. I have to deal with the sorrow of saying goodbye each time one of us is leaving to go home. Why do you have to be so nice? If you weren’t, this would be a lot easier.”

With John’s retirement this spring, we’re hoping to build more travel into our schedule. And you can be sure that travel’s going to include multiple trips to see our children, their spouses, and our beautiful grandchildren. As amazing as it would be to have all of us living together in the same area, that doesn’t look like it will ever happen (their in-laws enjoy having them right where they are).

As they say, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” I’m not sure if I can grow any fonder of our children or grandchildren, but I do know that I love each one of them wholeheartedly, and I treasure every moment we’re together. I’m counting down the days until we get to see each other again!

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Can We Talk?

This is really going to show my age, but the first memory I have of a telephone was the party line that we shared with a handful of other families in our neighborhood when I was young. Any time you picked up the phone to make a call, you might break into someone else’s conversation. The polite thing to do was hang up and try again later when you guessed the other call had concluded. That being said, as children, me and my brothers would sometimes try to listen in on other people’s conversations, thinking we’d be quiet enough that they wouldn’t notice us on one end of the line. I don’t recall that ever working, but I do recall getting yelled at by irate ladies who didn’t like us eavesdropping.

 

By the mid-1970s we had a private line. And one phone, near the front entrance of our house, with a bench conveniently located next to it with had two drawers—one for office-type things such as envelopes, scissors, and tape, and the other for the local phone directory. Seeing that we lived in a small city, it was maybe half-an-inch wide, and that included the addresses and phone numbers for all the local citizens and businesses, and information for other small municipalities within maybe a 20-mile radius.

 

That phone, olive green if I recall, was mounted on the wall and had a cord from the hand set to the base that was probably twenty feet long. When I was in my middle-school years, that allowed me to get as far away from my mom—who always seemed to be listening—as possible. If she was in the kitchen, I’d stretch that cord to the front room. If she was in the dining room, I could make it as far as the walk-in back entryway closet.

 

Since there was no texting back in the day, any plans I made with my friends was done either in person at school or on the telephone. Setting up an impromptu softball game meant numerous calls to my classmates. We’d even do phone trees to speed up the process. The phone was an important part of my social life.

 

In college, it was even more essential. My boyfriend at the time, now my husband, lived two hours away from where I went to school. We talked long distance every night. I can remember phone bills running $35 to $40 per month back in our courting days. Did I mention that when you talked on those classic phones that the handset heated up? By the time you finished a 45-minute conversation, you could barely touch the thing without burning your fingertips.

 

As a young mother with four little ones born over the span of six-and-a-half years, the telephone was my lifeline. I had a group of friends who were all in the same boat with me, full-time moms with a slew of little ones. By this time, cordless handsets were available, so I could chase kiddos down, change diapers, or cook dinner with my neck crooked to keep the phone in place on my shoulder as I talked. Those friends and our daily conversations helped me make it through those demanding years. Before websites, we were the resources for each other as we figured out parenting.

 

Cellphones came onto the scene when our oldest daughter was in college. It certainly would’ve been nice if she’d had one when she was studying in France her junior year. When my husband and I flew over to visit her, it was almost a miracle that we ran into her in a hallway in one of the class buildings on her campus, or we could still be wandering around Angers looking for her.

 

All four children eventually got cellphones, one or two in college, the others in high school. At that time, phones were for calling each other. Texting didn’t hit the scene until our youngest was in high school. At the time, each text was recorded on the monthly phone bill and we were charged for it. When her texting count hit 900-plus a month, it was time for an intervention—and for her to dig into her allowance to help cover the bill.

 

After that came smart phones, which had more knowledge packed inside each one than an entire library. Our kids by then were young adults so they were paying their own bills, and we weren’t monitoring their usage. The Internet showcases the best of humanity and the worst of humanity. I can’t even imagine how difficult it is to shelter children from everything that’s on there today, as anything you seek out (or aren’t even actively seeking out) is there at the tap of a finger. I just pray that parents can protect their children from the darkness that’s lurking behind those screens.

 

It’s interesting to see how phone usage has evolved. It was great when all the kids finally had cellphones and we could have conversations to stay in touch. Or we could get a hold of friends and family, no matter where they were, as their phones weren’t tethered to their homes anymore. That being said, I seldom call people anymore. At least, not without texting first to see if they have time to talk.

 

A phone call almost feels like an invasion of someone’s time or privacy. And, if you do decide to reach out to someone—particularly those humans that you brought into the world, do not leave a voicemail. No one has time to listen to them. If you can’t leave a message (short and to the point) via texting, then the standard thing to do is send a brief note asking them to call you. And if you don’t want to be accused of texting like a Boomer, leave off the punctuation.

 

Cellphone technology certainly has its advantages. Video calls or FaceTiming being right at the top. Five of our eight grandchildren live out of state, and this is an amazing way to stay connected with them. Now we’re to the point where some of them are old enough to initiate the calls between us. And so far, they seem to enjoy interacting with Grandpa and Grandma that way. But, if they get bored with the conversation, they all know where the red “End” button is on the phone. So far, our kids haven’t done that to us yet. But my mom and dad have been known to end conversations abruptly. That’s communication in the 21st century. Who knows where it will go next.

 

 

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Grandma Bootcamp

Thirty-nine years ago, when we enlisted in the parenting corps, I went through mama bootcamp, and being on duty 24/7 those first few weeks, the lack of sleep erased most of those memories from my mind. So much so that my husband and I went through it again three more times over the course of the next six years.

 

Here I am on the other end of the spectrum with our children grown, married, and now parents themselves. Apparently, I never read the fine print of my original enlistment papers, but if you are called back to active duty, you will automatically be enrolled in Grandma bootcamp.

 

This is a typical day on the base under the command of my 34-month-old drill instructor and her 3-month-old underling, i.e. baby brother

 

Reveille comes early, not a bugle, but a cry for milk or demand for breakfastFirst round of chow is served at 0800Your superiors eat first and they can be picky about their food choices, plate color, sippy cup color, and whether or not the food should be cut up or served wholeYou’re on KP duty after each mealCombat training commences with getting wiggly officers into fresh diapers or Baby Shark undies, onesies, socks, pants or leggings, and shirtsYou provide transportation for your commanding officer to the bus stop each morning to watch the other ranking soldiers leave for officer training schoolAs a recruit, you’re allowed one cup of coffee per day, served piping hot around 0900 and ice cold by the time you finish it five hours laterYou’ll be required to hike endless miles every three hours carrying a squirming 14-pound rucksackThroughout the day, your drill instructor will scream orders in your ear—hearing protection is recommendedRecruits are required to clean bathrooms at least once a week with a toothbrush, generally not their electric onesThere will be mountains to climb, mostly consisting of stacks of laundry, which then need to be folded, refolded, refolded again, and put awayBe prepared to be in the line of fire, whether it’s balls, blocks, or other various playtime projectilesBooks will be read morning, noon, and night, with favorites requested multiple times each dayThe mid-morning snack consists of MRE (Meals Ready to Eat) ranging from fruit to granola barsLibrary trips are required at the minimum once per week, your drill instructor may or may not participate in the scheduled toddler activitiesLunch is served at 1100 unless you’re hiking, then it’s pushed back until dinnertimeMinefield games are conducted during naptime as you learn to negotiate the hallway between the bedrooms without stepping on the creaky floorboardsWhile one officer is napping, the other one is almost always awake, so don’t expect any reprieve from your dutiesSnack time again after nap, all dip containers are the property of the commanding officer, who will double dip at her discretionWar games are conducted throughout the day, such as First Orchard and Go Fish, which usually ends in 52 Card PickupIf a nuclear meltdown is imminent, immediately distract and redirect the officerIn a two-story facility, stair climbing is conducted non-stop to gather supplies that are always on the opposite floor of where they’re neededThere will be complex puzzles to solve, including the alphabet tray puzzle and the jungle floor puzzleWeather permitting, outdoor time is highly recommended as a way to wear down the commanding officers—the recruits may feel the effects as wellYou may be subjected to water torture if diapers aren’t put on quickly or efficientlyPhysical fitness consists of deep knee bends, jogging, speed walking, bouncing, or swaying with the rucksack in your armsTactical medical care training is provided, and includes the application of character Band Aids and kisses to make boo boos feel betterDiaper pail will need to be emptied every three days; this is where your gas mask training will come into playYour biggest enemy in boot camp is lack of sleep and lack of privacy—even the latrines are considered public spacesAny contraband food must be eaten in hiding or while your commanding officers are occupied elsewhere or you will be ordered to shareDinner, which is generally nutritional and made from scratch, is something the drill instructor may or may not eat, depending upon the time of her last snackThe after-dinner battle is bath time, as one of the officers screams bloody murder when their hair is being rinsed as they refuse to look up at the ceiling to make the process easierNegotiation skills are put to the test at bedtime, determining the number of books to be read, and who is granted the privilege of cuddling with the drill instructor until she falls asleepAfter the officers are in their bunks, there is free time for writing letters which consist of one-line texts to let the folks back home know you survived another dayLights are out early around camp—you need to be prepared for wake-up calls in the middle of the night

 

I’m happy to report that I not only survived three weeks of Grandma bootcamp, but I thrived. As tough as camp can be, the joys outweigh the struggles. You get the toothless baby grins, the funny one-liners from the verbose 2-year-old (“Whatcha doing, Grandma?” “I’m loading the dishwasher. What are you doing?” “I’m watching you.”), the belly laughs, a buddy who follows you around the house observing and learning from everything you do, the squeals of delight, the look of absolute trust in those baby blue eyes as a little one is being rocked to sleep, the silly conversations, the hugs, the snuggles, the hand-holding, the tiny baby fingers wrapped around your finger—and your heart, and the wonderment of looking at the world through a child’s eyes.

 

The Many * The Proud * The Grandmas

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Investment Advice That Worked For Us

When my husband and I started dating 44 years ago, I wouldn’t say that either of us was financially savvy. We were good with handling money but really knew nothing about investing. Of course, what 17-year-old and 18-year-old would?

 

That being said, when things started to get serious between us and we began speaking about marriage, there was one investment to which we were both completely committed. We would use our resources, as limited as they were at the time, and invest in children.

 

John, who is one of 12 children in his family, and I, the youngest of three, always envisioned having four children of our own—a compromise between a large family and what was becoming the norm in that day and age, a two-child family. By God’s grace, that was precisely the number of children we did have.

 

Having children wasn’t a get-rich quick investment by any means. As a matter of fact, through many sleepless nights, bouts of teething, temper tantrums, sibling squabbles, driving crummy cars, and living on next to nothing, at times we wondered if our investment strategy was paying off.

 

Yet, all it took was one toothless smile, one baby bear hug, or a belly laugh and we were reassured that we were on the right track.

 

The older the kids got, the more money we sunk into our investment. There were the Catholic schools, pediatric appointments, sports fees, music lessons, sleep-away camps, uniforms, orthodontist bills, clothing, gifts, and groceries (anyone ever undertake the feeding of a teenage boy?).

 

That was just getting them through grade school, middle school, and high school. Then came the big-ticket items: college tuition and weddings.

 

Now that all four have their degrees and are married, and three of the four have children of their own, the dividends are coming back big time. We had a family portrait taken at our youngest daughter’s wedding last October and I was astounded when we finally got the proofs back recently. There were 18 people in that picture (one’s a bit hard to see as our youngest grandson was in his mama’s belly still that day).

 

If I’m doing the math here correctly, the investment of two people, me and John, which now has turned into a family of 18, makes that a 900 percent return on investment. Seriously, what other kind of opportunity has that kind of pay out? Sure, we had to be patient, but investing is a marathon, not a sprint.

 

Now we’re able to see the fruits of our investment every time we interact with our kids and grandkids. Whether it’s attending Mass together, witnessing our grandchildren receiving their sacraments in the Church, game night with the adults, holiday get-togethers, or front-row seats at soccer, flag football, running races, basketball, and tumbling classes.

 

There is one major difference between this investment and the typical financial investments in stocks, bonds, or real estate. While you can’t take those dividends with you when you go, if you’ve been astute raising your children and are invested in your grandchildren’s lives, you’ll be reunited with your investment someday in Heaven, when the children and grandchildren join you after (we pray) they’ve had long, fruitful lives.

 

For those young couples who are considering buying into the life of supposed complete freedom, independence, travel, and worldly goods beyond measure that can be afforded by not having children, think again. Really consider what is true wealth.

 

You don’t have to take it from me, Jesus made this point clear in Matthew 6:19-21: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and decay destroy, and thieves break in and steal. But store up treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor decay destroys, nor thieves break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.”

 

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Taking the (Education) Road Less Traveled

If a person would’ve looked at the numbers on paper, they would’ve said that my husband John and I were crazy to consider sending our four children to Catholic schools.

 

To put it in perspective, this is how things all began. John and I met—believe it or not—at a disco when he was 18 and working as a machinist, and I was 17, a high school senior. As if the word disco didn’t give it away, the year was 1980. Six weeks after that first slow dance under the spinning disco ball, John asked me out to see a movie. From that moment on, we saw each other almost every day until I left for college that August.

 

Even when I was in school, we saw each other almost every weekend, whether John headed down to Madison to go to a Badgers football game with me, or I took the bus back home to hang out with him. We were engaged on Christmas Eve, 1980, and I disenrolled from college two weeks later.

 

I went to work as a proofreader for the insurance industry, John continued at his job, and on September 11, 1981, we became husband and wife. Three-and-a-half years later, on the anniversary of the day we met, March 8, we welcomed our first child, Stephanie, into the world.

 

At that point, John was working at a start-up company, making something in the area of $5 per hour. We were determined to have our children raised with a stay-at-home parent, so I left the workforce. We broke ground on a brand-new starter home six months later. We knew we’d be living on a tight budget but we were willing to accept that.

 

Twenty months later our son Nicholas joined the family. The budget took another hit, but we had some supplemental income in the form of a stipend and free diapers from product testing for a local manufacturing firm. With our income, we qualified for WIC and received vouchers for healthy food for the kids, so that helped with the grocery bill.

 

When I was pregnant for the third time, I started selling Tupperware, hosting in-home parties for friends and family. In 1989 our daughter Samantha was born and I worked my way up in the Tupperware ranks to executive manager. When we found out we were expecting again in 1991, I made the decision to step away from that demanding part-time job—which also meant turning in the company minivan—so I could focus on my pregnancy and the birth of our daughter Elizabeth. Another setback in our financial life.

 

In 1989, Stephanie had turned 4 and was ready for preschool. As the only options at that time were private schools, she went to the Catholic school nearest our house. When it came time for kindergarten, we had to make a decision whether to continue sending her there or move her to the nearby public school.

 

John had only gone to Catholic school for one year, so he would’ve been fine with either option. I, on the other hand, had gone to a Catholic school from first through eighth grade. Overall, I loved the experience and felt it had been a positive influence in not only my faith life, but my life overall. I was determined that our children should have that opportunity as well. And so began the journey of our four children attending Catholic grade school, middle school, high school (for three out of the four), college and, for one, grad school.

 

In essence, other than some temporary money-making gigs here and there, I had the privilege of being a stay-at-home mom for 15 years before I went back to work part time. We had an incredibly tight budget. I remember many mac & cheese lunches, countless oatmeal breakfasts when we couldn’t afford boxed cereal, scouring the local thrift shop, going to more rummage sales than I can remember, and buying hand-me-down clothes from friends who had children slightly older than our own. I was an avid coupon clipper and consummate final-clearance shopper.

 

Recently, I ran across our budget from 1-1-1992 for our family of six. Here’s a few monthly entries: Food = $266, Car Payment = $385, Mortgage = $736, Diapers = $36 (we supplemented with cloth diapers—with pins—as needed), Clothing = $60, Dinners Out = $40, Babysitter = $16. Two things we didn’t skimp on, the 401K match through John’s employer, and our tithe, which was 10 percent of our gross income.

 

I should note, we were seeing a Christian financial counselor at the time, and he advised us that we could count the cost of our tuition to Catholic schools towards our tithe. Otherwise, I’m not sure how we would’ve pulled this off.

 

Money was tight, and there were times we really didn’t know how we’d come up with the tuition. We did qualify for some financial aid, so that helped. At one point when we were short and at the end of our rope, I reached out to our parish and they were able to help us. On another occasion, when our oldest was in middle school, a family in our parish anonymously paid for her entire tuition for one year. We may never know who that family was but we’ll always be eternally grateful.

 

When it came time for college, the kids applied to a variety of public and private colleges. Because of all the hard work they did in high school keeping up their grades, being active in sports and clubs, and working, all four received generous scholarships to the college of their choice. It turned out to be about the same price to attend Catholic schools as it would’ve been to attend public universities. John and I made the deal with the kids that they would take out all loans offered to them in their names, we’d split the rest of the cost, and they’d work each summer to pay the fall tuition bill, and we’d pay the winter/spring tuition bill.

 

Ten years ago, our youngest graduated from college. All four not only graduated from esteemed universities—University of Notre Dame, University of St. Thomas, St. Louis University, and Marquette University, but they’ve all paid off their loans, and John and I came out debt free.

 

Looking back all those years ago, it would’ve been hard to even dream how well things would turn out. It took a complete leap of faith to take the Catholic school path, but we’re so glad we did. It was literally one of the best investments John and I have made. Our children are living proof.

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She’s Nice

“You’re so nice!” I’ve been the recipient of that compliment more times in my life than I can remember. While I treasure those words at this age, I wasn’t always so excited to hear what I considered to be a generic accolade when I was younger.

 

I can remember a distinct incident involving that phrase when I was in 7th grade attending a small Catholic school. Our teacher, a wonderful sister with the Franciscan Sisters of Christian Charity, had an assignment for the 35 students in our class. We were given a sheet of paper with the names of each of our classmates typed down the left column and down the right column.

 

After each name on the left, we were told to write one “not-so-great” thing about that classmate. In the other column, we were told to write one complimentary thing about that classmate. All comments were anonymous. When we got back to school after the weekend, Sister had compiled a paper for each student that listed the not-so-great things about themselves on the left-hand side of the page and the complimentary things about themselves on the right-hand side.

 

The left side was food for thought for a lot of us. The right side was heart-warming. We spent a lot of time trying to guess who wrote what about us. I heard years later at a class reunion that many of our classmates still had those typed compliments. Some of the guys even carried that list with them in their wallets to that day.

 

As for me, other than the words from the class bully — who wrote mean things about me in both columns (you can read more about this event and what I did with my list in my book Anything But Groovy), the vast majority of the complimentary statements said the same thing. “She’s nice.”

 

Those words sounded like something someone would say if they barely knew another person. So bland. I’d gone to school with these kids since I was in first grade, couldn’t they think of something more original to say about me?

 

In the 40-plus years since then, I’ve noticed a pattern. When someone mentions me, the word nice comes up again and again. It was gratifying to hear but still made me feel like the Plain Jane Girl Next Door.

 

At some point not too long ago, it hit me that being called nice was probably the highest compliment someone could give me. Nice ranked right up there with being called kind. From that moment on, I embraced being the nice person. It became my identity. I went out of my way to live up to that title and be the nicest person I could be.

 

Anyone remember the church hymn, They Will Know We Are Christians By Our Love (a great ‘70s guitar Mass favorite). My version is They Will Know I Am Catholic By How Nice I Am. Not quite as catchy, but it resounds with me. And you know what? If someday the epithet on my gravestone reads, “AMANDA LAUER She Was Nice,” I’ll feel that I’d completed God’s mission for my life.

 

 

 

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The Christmas Letter We’re Not Sending

This is the version of our 2023 Christmas letter that we’re not sending. It was turning into a novel. Our friends and family got the condensed version! You’re welcome to read it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you…

 

Looking over the 2023 calendar, it actually wears me out! What a year we had!

 

January started off with a media blitz for my book Ashes: Visible & Invisible, Lenten stories from 10 Catholic Teen Books authors. Unfortunately, John’s Uncle Hans passed away that month too.

 

Shot a training video February 1. Saw The Three Tenors with my Dad at the PAC February 11. It was an amazing concert! Flew to Columbus on February 12 to help our middle daughter out with her 2-year-old while her husband was traveling for work. The following Saturday I did a book signing at the Columbus Catholic Women’s Conference which had 3,000+ attendees. Two days after that, John, our youngest daughter and I flew to Las Vegas to celebrate her upcoming wedding. We saw Penn & Teller, went to Top Golf, ate at some outstanding restaurants, and had front-row seats for Cirque du Soleil Beatles Love while we were there. A nice winter getaway!

 

In March I signed books at the In Mary’s Footsteps women’s conference in Chilton, Wis. John and I participated in a virtual Anthony Robbins event the weekend of St. Patrick’s Day. The annual Holy Cross Men’s Basketball Tournament started the weekend of March 24. It’s something we attend every year.

 

Saw numerous local productions this year, including All Rise!, an Easter show at Xavier High School, Jesus Christ Superstar at Kimberly High School, SPIN at Xavier, The Wizard of Oz at Xavier, and soon we’ll be going to Christmas Stars at Xavier, which has been a tradition of ours for 25+ years.

 

We celebrated Easter with our son and his family. The last weekend of April I went on a four-day silent retreat at the Jesuit Retreat House in Oshkosh. Staying silent was a challenge but the weekend was so fulfilling!

 

I had a book signing at Heritage Hill State Historical Park May 6 and 7. On May 11 I did a presentation about my book Anything But Groovy at my alma mater, St. John’s School in Antigo, followed by a book signing at the Antigo Public Library. The entire 8th grade at St. Francis Xavier Middle School got copies of my book A World Such as Heaven Intended to read while they studied the Civil War. I did a presentation for them on May 16. We hosted a wedding shower for our daughter on May 21 and were happy to have all our kids and their families in town that weekend. May 25 John and I headed to Jeffersonville, Indiana for the second year in a row to attend Abbey Road on the River, the world’s largest Beatles festival. It was amazing again! On the way back John dropped me off in Chicago for the Catholic Writers Guild conference.

 

June 3 my mom celebrated her 86th birthday with a nice dinner at her favorite restaurant, Mark’s East Side. In June I started writing the full-length novel Lucky & Blessed, which will be released in 2024 or 2025. That month was also the start of the Kimberly summer concert series. We brought my mom to several of the Sunday night concerts over the course of the summer. Our oldest daughter and her family visited in June on their way moving out to Seattle for her new position with Brooks Running.

 

Our middle daughter and her husband were in town the first week in July signing papers for a house they bought by City Park in downtown Appleton that they started renting out as an Air BnB in October. We had two weeks of vacation in July and spent a good amount of time riding our new e-bikes. I had a book signing at the Appleton Downtown Farm Market July 29.

 

August kicked off with Mile of Music in downtown Appleton. John and our son saw more concerts than I could count and I attended my fair share with them as well. Such a fun weekend! Another book signing at Sacred Heart of Jesus’ annual Parishfest and at the Grignon Mansion Civil War Living History event.

 

In September I did a dozen interviews for the release of my time-travel novel Royal & Ancient. Unfortunately, on Labor Day my brother’s wife suffered a fatal heart attack. John, our son, my dad and I drove to Minnesota for the funeral and our daughter flew in from Seattle. John and I took a week off to celebrate our 42nd anniversary. I attended an American Christian Fiction Writer’s retreat in Green Lake. September 20, we discovered that we had to find a new housing situation for my mom and on September 27, we moved her a four-bedroom assisted living facility in a family neighborhood and it seems to be working out well for her. September 30, after spending the day at Octoberfest with John, I flew to Columbus to help our daughter prepare for the birth of their second child.

 

On October 2 Royal & Ancient was released. October 12 the entire family gathered for Elizabeth’s wedding weekend. We started out with a surprise get together with my dad to celebrate his 85th birthday (and our son-in-law’s birthday as well). The next day was the wedding ceremony along the banks of the Scioto River in downtown Columbus, and on October 14, we had a fantastic dinner and reception for the newly wedded couple.

 

We all drove home the next day, and two days later, October 17, baby Henry Theodore, our eighth grandchild, arrived. Since he was 12 days late, I flew back to Ohio to meet him on October 28 and stayed with his family for a week. Henry is just about the sweetest baby you’ll ever meet. He’s got me completely wrapped around his tiny little pinky!

 

After a week at home, I flew back to Columbus for another eight days to help out our daughter again. Thanksgiving Day was a joy-filled one. We celebrated our son’s birthday that day and had him and his family, my dad and stepmom, and my mom over for lunch. The next day the grandkids came over and helped us decorate the house for Christmas. I had a book signing at a boutique on Small Business Saturday.

 

December holds more books signings (The Sweet Stroll at Sacred Heart December 2 and 3, book launch at The Book Store December 8, signing at the Grignon Mansion December 9), Christmas Stars at Xavier High School, and a concert with my dad at the PAC called From 1 to 92 featuring Steve Marche Torme.

 

We’ve been blessed to have three of our grandchildren in town and had the opportunity to see numerous basketball games, tumbling practices, soccer and flag football games, see the kids read at their school Masses, watch their concerts, and enjoy monthly game/dinner nights with their whole family.

 

Looking forward to our youngest coming home for Christmas and spending the holidays with some of the people we love most in this world, including John’s family at their annual Christmas party.

 

Blessings to you and yours this Christmas season and prayers for a blessed 2024. Take care!

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The End of an Era

When my mom had emergency surgery in 2017 to repair a ruptured colon, I was hopeful that she’d recover easily enough, move back into her two-story house, and get on with her active retirement life. That wasn’t meant to be.

 

The long surgery brought about post-operative delirium and the end of her days of independent living. She went from rehab to staying at her home with me as her caregiver to a one-bedroom apartment in an assisted living facility. When she qualified for Medicaid the following year, her living situation was downsized to a studio apartment in another assisted living facility. When her Medicaid provider rescinded the contract with that facility this fall, we were forced to downsize again. She now has a bedroom and semi-private bath.

 

With each move, my husband and I have had to sort through her things to furnish her home with only those items that would fit in the smaller space. My mom loves holidays and had a plethora of holiday décor. She also loves to cook and had a well-stocked kitchen. When we sold her house five years ago, we packed up countless boxes of her household items and have been storing them in our basement since then.

 

With this latest move in September, we realized that it was time to let go of everything we’d been storing. Hundreds of items. We unboxed everything in our basement, added all the new items from the latest move to the piles, sorted and categorized, shot photos of every group, and then contacted an estate dealer to see what price we could get for the entire lot.

 

After getting the offer (about a third of what I’d anticipated), I thought about it overnight, and, with John’s encouragement, made the decision to post everything on my Facebook page to see if anyone was interested in any of the items. It turns out, a lot of people were.

 

For the next week, I corresponded with friends and family from all over the country. People stopped by our house to pick things up, I drove well over 100 miles delivering items, I shipped packages, and we made a couple runs to donate items to a local charity thrift shop.

 

What seemed like such a daunting task turned out to be a wonderful experience. It was gratifying to see that all my mom’s beloved belongings found new homes where they’d be appreciated and used once again. Marie Kondo would approve.

 

The recipients of the items included family, old friends, classmates and workmates, neighbors, a preschool and daycare, a priest friend, and even me (I kept a couple things for myself).

 

Probably the sweetest story is that of my long-lost cousin, who’d been adopted at birth, and has just come into our lives through one of those DNA-sharing sites. She and her daughter now own the majority of my mom’s Christmas décor. It was expensive shipping everything across the country, but they will treasure having this connection to their aunt and extended family.

 

In the end, I’m so glad that I chose to undertake this project, even though it took up the two weeks that I was home this fall between trips. John and I have our house squared away just in time for the holidays and more people than I’ll ever know have been blessed to have a part of my mom with them. It doesn’t get much better than that.

 

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