Now, don’t get too excited. We’re just talking daydreams here – nothing terribly romantic but, still, life-changing. This is about a very “appropriate” and “mature” and “sensible” daydream. You’ll find the dream itself pretty tame; that it came true and was right there, under my nose, waiting for me with open arms – that’s the cool part.

[Author’s note: This actually happened about two weeks ago, but immediately thereafter our 2023 city budget was in peril, and I paused to co-author the piece called “There’s Still Hope, Green Bay.” It got lot of attention, and the budget was saved from decimation. I’ve caught my breath, and so now I share with you this unbelievable sequel to “The Garbage Can Caper.”}

I’ve ridden roller coasters only a few times in my life for the very practical reason that they scare the hell out of me. I get no thrills from terrifying climbs and death-defying falls. However, today I’ve been riding a roller coaster – from highs to lows all day – and guess what: I think it’s a pretty interesting story. So I’m going to tell it. If you don’t want to hear about the nutty ups and downs of this day, why, you just quit reading now.

I remember my mother worrying about going into the “Medicare donut hole.” I recall it had something to do with money, and the donut hole was a bad place to be, but I’ve always found Medicare far more confusing than should be necessary. I dismissed the donut hole as something I’d never have to deal with. After all, I’d never “been on medication” in my life. At age 64, healthy as a horse, a long-time cancer survivor and a recent total hip recipient now walking without pain, I saw Medicare as an annoyance, a necessary evil I’d now have to face. I dutifully researched my health insurance options prior to my sixty-fifth birthday. Lord knows, I never thought about the donut hole.

And then, last week, I woke up in the donut hole.

Did lockdowns work against COVID? A week ago that question would never have crossed my mind. Of course “lockdowns,” such as they were, helped slow the spread of the virus. Of course anything we did to slow the spread “worked,” right? I mean, I’m here and I’m safe and I never had COVID, nor did my kids or their spouses. I stayed safe at home, wore a mask, did all the right things… why would I even question whether that was smart?

But then I heard someone casually toss out this comment: “They’ve found that lockdowns didn’t work, you know.” So I did what I always do in such situations: I did some research…

Note from the author: I wrote this article in 2008! Tamarack Communication did not exist then, nor was the Speakeasy open. It’s been archived and ignored for years. Today a friend’s reference to Carl Sagan and his warning about “bamboozling” brought it to mind, and I dusted it off and brought it into the Speakeasy. Imagine! We’re still wrangling with the same communication issue that plagued us 13 years ago!Why we “forward” without checking. Please check your facts before forwarding those titillating but inflammatory or prejudicial (or just plain stupid) email messages to unsuspecting voters or impressionable readers who might believe everything you send their way.

Ah, this pandemic. As an elected official, I listen to citizens complain about schools being closed, the affront of being asked to wear a mask in public places, and the frustration of seeing traditional parts of our local economy collapse inward and die. As an officer of my neighborhood association, I witness the frustration of trying to hold meetings for a population that just won’t (or can’t) learn to use Zoom. But, as the communication consultant for a cutting-edge nonprofit whose focus is reading signals and spotting trends in order to actually shape a preferred future, I view this pandemic as a wakeup call.

On my own anniversary of becoming sugar free (7 years today), I am publishing this abstract of the book that started it all for me. In January 2013 I saw Dr. Lustig on TV, touting his new book; I had it downloaded to my Kindle before the end of his interview. I read it carefully. (He’s an endocrinologist; this is not light reading.) Then I bought a paper copy so I could mark it up, and I read it again.

My house has been on fire twice. I’m not talking about the house I live in now in Green Bay’s Olde Preble neighborhood. I mean the house in Astor neighborhood where Tom and I raised our kids. That one’s in Green Bay’s historic district; the plaque from the National Register of Historic Places says it was built in 1917. Yeah, that one – twice on fire.

Hard to believe, but public speaking is still the #1 fear of American adults. Twenty-five percent still list this as their biggest fear – greater than their fear of heights, bugs, snakes, drowning, blood, needles, claustrophobia and flying. As one who has taught public speaking and done a lot of it herself, I can only conclude that people afraid of public speaking might overcome that fear simply by engaging in some good instruction and coaching.

But that’s not the kind of “speaking” to which I’m referring today.