What Will You Bring Home?

I can hear them in the next room playing guitar - my kids, along with their friends Jake and Evan. Anna is trying to write the music for Evan’s new song “Paper Cuts”. Charlie is trying to choose which harmonica to blow. They are in a spirited discussion now, about a name for their new band. Will it be the Banana Bandanas? The Banana Smurfs? I love this. And believe it or not, this is a result of traveling.

Follow me here…..I have brought lots of souvenirs back from our travels and realized along the way that it’s not the things that have made my life richer, but the ideas.

On dozens of hopping Saturday nights in Belize, over the past nine years, I have performed with area bands. There is nothing in the world quite like the feeling I get while belting out “Me and Bobby McGee” on the beach – with a band. I watch the honeymooners dance, all snuggled up together. The singles and old-marrieds sway in their chairs with their drinks held aloft. Some croon along softly, smiling. Others are surfing on a memory and sing full throttle, their heads thrown back, their eyes closed.

And on Sunday afternoons in Belize, local musicians meet at a certain beachfront bar and hold a jam session. They work on songs that are not ready for primetime, and case the crowd for anyone who might want to sit in. Often they have to cobble a band together in order to play at all, asking over the open mic if anyone can play bass or drums, or knows all the words to “Hotel California”. The musicians, the regulars, the newcomers, everyone has fun, because it is impossible to have a bad time when you are singing.

I have brought this concept back home, and a couple of Sundays a month we host a “Sunday Sundown Jam Session” in my dining room. Now the crux of this gathering is the talent and willingness of my two actual musician friends, Joe Tougas and Ann Fee. But thankfully they happily attend, and even bring food. Everyone is invited to bring their whole family and something to strum, pluck, shake, blow or bang on. It is impossible not to have fun, especially when the babies dance.

When I meet someone new and they seem receptive, I ask if they play an instrument, or sing, and if they would be interested in bringing their family to a jam session. Most people are shy about it, or downplay their talent. But when they show up on a Sunday afternoon; when they plug in their guitar, or grab the microphone, shake the tambourine or bang on a bongo, they get that look in their eyes. The same look that I must have when there is a guitar strap on my back, a microphone at my lips, and sand between my toes.

And now as I listen to my kids with their friends, playing something that doesn’t involve shooting or exploding, death or injury, I am sure that this is one of the very best things I have ever brought home.

Pictures

http://picasaweb.google.com/julenenolan

Last year at this time I was in Japan. This year I am sorting socks, school shopping, and taking kids to dental appts. Last year was better.

Here is a link to all the photos from the trip and some that I've posted since.

And Now It's Your Turn

WomenInc. Magazine Presents: Travel With Jules

8 Day Belizean -Style Leisure and Adventure Package Hosted by Travel and Adventure Writer Jules Nolan

If you’ve ever read my column you understand that I have an almost pathological love of travel, of moving on, of finding the next place. I have visited more than 23 countries and schlepped my family across 5 continents. Last October, after 180 consecutive days on the road, my weary family landed at the Minneapolis airport. As we were blearily shuffling our way to baggage claim, my son was talking about how good it was to be going home. “Can you imagine how great it will be to sleep in our own beds tonight?” Eldest son remarked.

“Yea, and to stay home awhile. I don’t think I will leave the house for a month” Middle son replied.

“I want to see my friends tomorrow – but I’ll invite them to come and see me at MY house.” Youngest daughter said.

I however, was completely distracted by the airline departure signs, announcing the destinations for which these lucky crowds were bound. “Oh wow” I thought. “Those people are going to Hawaii. That might be a fun….”

“JULES!” My husband shouted as I started to wander off in the direction of the departure gate. “Where are you going?”

So you get the picture. I like to keep moving.

However, there is one place in the world that keeps pulling me back, despite my wanderlust, despite the fact that I am always off in a new direction, in search of a new destination. That place is the island of Ambergis Caye, Belize. In January I am inviting you to come with me and love it as much as I do.

Belize is just 4 flight hours from Minneapolis. You leave at 6 in the morning from the frigid temperatures, the ice covered vehicles, the drift covered driveways of Minnesota. By 3pm that afternoon you have your bare feet in the sand and a rum punch in your hand. You watch the setting sun with bare shoulders, the moist, salty air kissing your face and curling your hair. The scent of Belizean spice wafts up from the beach front barbecues as you stroll the beach in search of dinner. Will it be casual, barefoot dining or elegant waterfront views this evening? The choice is yours.

You wake up the first morning as the bright Central American sun peeks into your hotel window, as if to say “C’mon, lets go, it’s time to fall in love with Belize.” The small, locally owned hotel looks like a plantation house nestled into the palm trees right on the beach.. It is quaint and charming with a lovely pool, a fun little tiki bar and a welcoming staff. It is not the Four Seasons or some behemoth all-inclusive. It is close to the culture, close to ocean, and close to town.

Breakfast of succulent fruit, is served along with warm cinnamon bread from the local bakery. Or maybe today it will be homemade Johnny Cake or Belizean-style fry bread with your coffee and juice. While finishing your Belizean coffee you stroll the 100 yards to the waters edge and think about the beautiful view of the living reef that you witnessed from above when you arrived yesterday. You think about the small plane that brought you here from the mainland and the hundreds of miles of barrier reef that stretched out before you. You saw these same turquoise waters fading into cobalt blue, the mint green shallows that broke into waves of foamy white as the ocean met the reef. 15 minutes of flying above the second largest barrier reef in the world was a thrill, but not nearly as great a thrill as it will be to see it up close later that day.

The gentle, welcoming, local people interrupt your thoughts with a greeting, “g’mahrning” or “Buenos dias” and a warm smile as they pass by on their way to work. The young girls in their blinding white shirts and navy blue pinafores travel in giggling clumps along the beach on their way to school. And the boys follow slightly behind in their freshly pressed white shirts and navy pants jostling each other with shoulders and elbows and calling to the girls ahead.

Back at the hotel and it’s time to decide. What will you do today? Are you up for a visit to the jungles of Belize to see the leaf-cutter ants, listen to the howler monkeys and catch a glimpse of the coatimundi, a toucan or a macaw? Will you take photos of yourself in front of the Mayan Temples of Altun Ha? Perhaps on your visit to Maruba Jungle Spa you will have a mood mud massage with the purifying muds of the region.

Or maybe today is the day that you sail the aqua blue waters of Belize. Maybe you will snorkel along the living coral reef and catch a glimpse of electric blue tangs, lemon yellow snapper, and pale green moray eels. Will you be brave enough to jump in the water with the swarming nurse sharks and stingrays at “Shark-Ray Alley’? Will you pet a shark? Feed a ray? Or will you stay in the sun and watch all the fun from topside?

And later, back at the hotel will you laze in a hammock and dive into that book that you’ve been dying to read? Or will you hop on a bike or golf cart and explore this tiny island on your own?

After a scrumptious dinner of fresh seafood that night, will you drift off to sleep in your oceanfront room or are you up for a night of music and dancing? You will see the provocative local dance called the “punta”, are you willing to join in and learn it for yourself?

Eight days of adventure, relaxation, or a mixture of both is what awaits you on this trip. You will be my guest, meet my local friends and explore the magic that has drawn me back more than 2 dozen times over the past 7 years. You will fall in love with this place and you will return.

Belizean Style Leisure and Adventure Package with Host Jules Nolan Includes:

Pre-departure Informational Happy Hour at the new Red Sky Lounge, Mankato

7 nights at Tides Beachfront Hotel

Welcome Rum Punch or Fruit Drink

Sail and Snorkel on the Reef and Shark-Ray Alley

Altun Ha Mayan Ruins with Maruba Jungle Spa Trip

Beach Barbeque with my friend local fishing guide and Chef Tony

Coral Reef education with my friend and local ecologist, Billy Leslie

Air transfer from Belize City to San Pedro and Return

Taxi transfers and excursion transfers

Continental Breakfast Daily

Taxes

US $930 per person double for WomenInc. subscribers

US $980 per person double for nonsubscribers

*Trip does not include international airfare

Call me at (507) 382-5404 or email jules@julesnolan.com for more information or to secure your reservation today. Availability is limited. Don’t miss this adventure!

WomenInc Covergirl

WomenInc used my photo as the cover shot for the June issue. It's terribly embarrassing and a nice compliment all at once.

http://www.women-inc.com/ has the cover shot and you can read the story at http://www.julesnolan.com/ The story is called "Bouncing Back From Fear"

Also, I will be hosting a trip to Belize for WomenInc readers and friends! We will be going for 7 days January 16-22 and will be learning about the rich culture, magnificent natural environment and warm, welcoming people of Belize.

We will be doing some sailing, snorkeling, touring Mayan Ruins, jungle-spa-ing, and beach bbq-ing. With all of the great friends I have made in Belize over the years, this promises to be a very special trip. Please let me know if you are interested in joining us. Since we are staying at a small, independently owned hotel, availability will be limited.

Laying that Big Spike Down

Wow it's been awhile since I wrote - and so much has changed!

First I became a scooter mama. My favorite new past time is scootin' around the town. It makes me feel like I can fly. Also helps me deal with "pump anxiety" as I've put 200 miles on this bike and spent less than $10 in gasoline. I bought a "Buddy" from the Genuine Scooter Company through a local Yamaha dealer called Star Cycle http://www.starrcycleyamaha.com/. It is sweet.

http://www.genuinescooters.com/

My friend Beth says "riding a scooter is like giving the earth a hug"

Also, I am back in school. I started classes this summer in a new doctoral program in School Psychology. I will be an old, grey lady when I finish (5 years) but I would be an old grey lady anyway wouldn't I?

I scored a graduate assistantship through the Department of Institutional Diversity at MSU-M and am working in the Writing and English Language Lab, tutoring writing. It is a blast and the students are very cool. Lots of countries represented in one room. The next best thing to being there myself!

The kids are out of school for the summer and are already busy with activities. Charlie is doing The Hobbitt through community theater, Anna took off for Florida to visit Grandparents, and Jack is working at Scheels in Mankato building bikes.

Mike is doing some business consulting and continues to look for the next big gig.

Laws of Life

Brilliant daughter Anna, was one of the winners of an essay contest called "Laws of Life". It is sponsored by the Dollars for Scholars organization for 7-12 grade students attending Mankato Schools. Anna's story is about a young girl who has inspired her. Her name is Emily Brose.

Here is the award winning essay and a couple of photos of Anna receiving her award.

Inspired by a Friendship

By Anna Nolan

When we think of someone that we admire we think of someone who is great, famous, or who has changed the life of thousands. When I think of someone I admire, I think a little closer to home. The person that I admire is strong, both of mind, and spirit, she is brave and selfless. Also, she is compassionate and she is a great friend. She is also different; different because she has Down syndrome. I have learned so much from her and I think that she is one of the greatest people I know.

Down syndrome is a genetic disorder. It is caused by the presence of all or part of an extra 21st chromosome. It is a form of mental retardation. People with Down syndrome usually have a distinct physical appearance. They also might not be able to talk. Despite all of this she is still absolutely amazing. I knew all of this from the moment I met her.

Before I met her I had not really ever spent time with a person who has a disability. I admit that before I met her, I became very nervous. My hands were sweaty, and I was extremely uncomfortable. When she came out, she said hello to me, normal as anything, and I said hello back. One of the first things I noticed was that she has an amazing personality. After that, I realized that just because she has Down syndrome, does not mean that I should not get to know her. This was the first of many things that she has taught me.

Afterwards, we started to hang out more, and this is when I learned many new things. For example, I learned to always get to know someone before you make false assumptions. Also, I learned to always persevere and not to give up. One of the most important things I have learned is that everyone has challenges in their life, some have more than others, so you should not give up no matter how hard it becomes. She is thoughtful and kind and she has a great spirit.

Being her friend is an honor. I would like to learn more from her. For now though, she has taught me some things that I am sure I will carry with me for the rest of my life. Yes, she is different, but that does not make me not want to be her friend. I think that if we all had the same outlook on life that she has, the world would be a better place, for everyone.

It's Here

Spring is an interesting time of year. I remember when I was young girl, the calves on our farm would get themselves into a lot of trouble in spring. They would bash each other a good deal and get tangled up in places they didn’t belong. They bubbled with energy and their wobbly legs didn’t move in the ways they intended. They stumbled around a lot.

Teenage families are a lot like that. Spring brings out mischief and uncertainty and bashings. Teenagers, more than any other "agers", feel that intense craving for movement. They are using limbs, which have grown unweildy over the winter, in ways they haven’t in awhile. Lots of things get broken in the spring including windows and furniture and bones. Sometimes hearts too, but that's another blog entry altogether.

Teens are also feeling overwhelmed with deadlines at this time of the year. Most of their big projects are coming due next month. They are crabby.

Our house needs to be held upside down and shaken. It needs a spring cleaning of biblical proportions. It needs a hosing off and a blowing dry like never before. And lots of stuff needs fixing. We are crabby too.

I’m going to go sit out in the sunshine on the deck and ignore the mess a little longer. It will be there when I get back.

What's Next?

We have been home now for exactly as much time as we were away. I miss it desperately. I miss having something new to learn every day. I miss the hustle of moving my family across the planet. I miss meeting new people.

Earlier this week Anna came into my room. She was sad. She said she misses it too, misses the adventure and excitement, but mostly misses the closeness of our family crammed into some hotel room or airplane. She said that now everything is back to normal and it makes her lonely.

Everyone is filling their days and nights with friends and projects and work, and we don't focus so much on each other. She said she hates how fast the time is going and can't believe that Jack will be graduating from high school and leaving this time next year.

I couldn't agree more

Lessons We Learned

The local paper did a story about our trip around the world. Cathy Bernardy Jones, a local freelance reporter, came to our home and interviewed us for 4 hours. It was fabulous fun for us, and completely exhausting for her. She did a great job with the story though, and the paper published this cool photo college that Mike made

But the big payback for me was a quote from Anna that was published in a sidebar titled "Tips". "What I learned from this trip is how big the world is. That my life is so much more than just Mankato, MN, that it can be whatever I want it to be."

Talk about your return on investments. Having her learn that lesson sealed it. This trip was the best thing we could have done for our family.

www.nolanonline.com/nolantrip.pdf

New Latitude.....Same Attitude

As a four year old I had no words for it, but I knew that something big was happening. It was a hot summer evening and I felt weird – some odd combo platter of emotion…dread…excitement…fear? I couldn’t tell. But I knew that my six brothers and sisters were thrilled, and that my mom, though she was smiling, was feeling something else, something much more sinister.

Around 6pm my dad burst through the door with a puffed up chest and a mischievous smile. “Pack up the kids Doris” he bellowed, “We’re going on vacation.” It was a Friday in late August, commission check time for feed salesman in small town Southern Minnesota, and it had been a good week. My brothers and sisters were jumping and hollering. “Whoo Hoo! Vacation! I get Mom’s lap.” “Hugh-ungh you got it last time.” My mother got this odd look on her face – something between fear and homicidal mania.

You see vacation to our family was not some rustic, cozy cabin in the north woods on a lake – or even roughing in a tent with a camp stove. Our vacation home was an old abandoned farmhouse in the middle of a cricket-infested field in southern Minnesota. It had no electricity, no indoor plumbing, no bedding, no dishes – and my mother was to pack up seven children, supplies, equipment, and food at 6 pm on a Friday night so that we could arrive before dark. How she went 55 years without smothering that man in his sleep I will never understand.

Packing the car was an exercise in advanced geometry and triangulation. Nine people, food, sheets, towels, supplies, and Poncho – the nervous, incontinent, motion sick terrier were all to fit into the midnight-blue Buick Roadmaster. We were lap-sitters, the lot of us, four in the front and five in the back. As the baby of the family, I got to ride in back window of the sedan along with Poncho, and it was my job to yell “CAR” whenever I saw one approaching or trying to pass.

What would turn out to be our very last visit to the abandoned shack began just as all the others had, with frenzy and excitement and undeniable dread. And now it was nighttime – dark as pitch. I was curled up with my sister on an army surplus cot built for one. We were a tangle of clammy arms and legs, sweaty brows and musty old blankets, waging a sleep-war for the only pillow. It was a hushed symphony of cricket chirps and sleep murmurs. Then everything changed.

At first I could only hear the huffing. This was not the rhythmic familiarity of my dad’s snoring. No, whatever was breathing like that was definitely not human and it smelled horribly of musk and mold and decay. Satan’s perfume. I heard my mother’s voice.

“Ellis” she whisper-screamed “there is a BEAR in here!”
“Just go back to sleep. It’ll leave” my dad replied.
“GET IT OUT OF HERE!” She was no longer whispering.
“How in hell am I supposed to do that? I don’t have a gun.” He said.
“WELL THEN CHASE IT OUT!”
“You want me to chase a bear?”
“I WANT YOU TO CHASE A BEAR!”

Muttering curses like Yosemite Sam, my dad hurled himself out of the bed and made all the noise a 5 foot 4 inch, 145 lb man could make. He shouted and flailed and banged on whatever was near him, completely blind in the darkness. My nine year-old brother Jimmy took an inadvertent cuff to the ear and howled out in pain. This started a chain reaction of screaming and falling to the floor from seven children and a very small, very frightened terrier.

The commotion died down when Mom lit the gas lantern and we looked around the cabin. No bear, no boogeyman, just that unholy, lingering odor.
The door was standing wide open and we held our breath as Dad bravely advanced on the door, and beyond it, the wild, ferocious animal that had nearly massacred his family.

There at the bottom of the steps sat a very confused, very hairy golden retriever, panting and huffing with his head tilted a little to one side. “Well there’s you bear Doris, there’s your god damned bear.” My father shook his head, quenched the light, and went back to sleep.

Fast forward 35 or so years and I am in a lovely hotel with my husband and three kids. We have a pool, a beach, a kitchen and air conditioning. “C’mon you guys, this will be an adventure.” I coaxed. I had met a man named Christian who was building a resort on one of the undeveloped outer cayes in Belize. His resort wasn’t open for guests yet, but would be very soon. He was looking for someone to market the resort in the US, and I, being a travel agent who was already marketing a hotel on another caye, I was a natural choice. He offered free accommodations for the weekend.

We packed a boat with provisions and took the two hour ride to Long Caye Resort. As we docked the boat and unloaded, I noticed that my husband had this strange look on his face. He didn’t seem nearly as excited for this adventure as I was. “Jeez” I thought. “Where’s your sense of fun?”

The cloud of mosquitoes descended on us almost immediately. I’d never seen anything like it. They were as thick as fog, buzzing and biting like the frenzied vampires they are. At once they were in my eyes, up my nose, in my mouth and ears. Choking and swatting, we jumped into the ocean to escape.

“Careful of the stinging jellyfish ma’am.” Christian, our host announced. “They’re everywhere.” We snatched the kids out of the water and put on long sleeves and pants, hats and bandanas. Trouble is, it was about 106º and humid. Everyone was miserable, sweating and itching like crazy. “Quick – inside the hotel” I offered.

Christian showed us to our rooms – a 10x10 box with no cross ventilation, no screens on the only window and gaping holes in the unfinished roof. It did have a ceiling fan, and I was hoping that after the sun set the mosquitoes would abate and the breeze of the fan would keep us cool.

“You have electricity right?” My husband accused.
“Yes, of course.” Replied Christian.

And he did. Except, he forgot to mention that the generator was turned off every night around 10 pm - turning the 10x10 hot box of a room into a sweltering, buggy oven. We passed that hideous night taking turns trying to cool off in the shower down the hall – fully clothed.

The next morning we were up and out of there before our host was even awake. I was appropriately contrite about my mis-adventure. However, on the way back I asked my husband if we could stop at another island just a little further south. I had heard about a resort that some American had built and then abandoned. Apparently he had been in trouble with the law and had to flee country. “We should stop and take a look.” I said. “I guess it’s brand new and just sitting there empty for anyone to use. We could stay the night. It would be an adventure!” He just looked down and shook his head.

How that man has gone 22 years without smothering me in my sleep I will never understand.

Photos of Kids in Paris

To see photos of where it all began - taking the kids with - click here


http://picasaweb.google.com/julenenolan/Paris2003


To read essays from my other travel adventures click here

http://www.traveljules.com/

Paris 2003 As The Taking With Begins

“WOW! You’re an amazing woman!” he blurted. His eyes flashed with admiration as a giant smile washed across his face. Realizing what he’d just said, how he’d just proclaimed his private feelings, he shyly dropped his chin and glanced down. I have never heard more enchanting words. Sure we were holed up in some dimly lit café in Paris, the epicenter for passionate outbursts. But the fact was this was not some dashing young suitor. This was my 13 year old son, thoroughly impressed with my ability to get him a coke and a hamburger in my halting college French.

Two years ago I took our sons, 10 and 13, to Paris over their Thanksgiving break. Those who didn’t think I was crazy surely thought I was stupid. I admit I have an uncommon love for Paris and all things French, and I probably painted a slightly biased picture in their imaginations (hot coco and chocolate filled croissants for breakfast!). But truly, Paris is a wonderful travel destination for children. The secrets? Stay close to a metro stop. Keep museum visits short – less than an hour. Never get too hungry or too tired. Forget shopping – except in the toy stores which are delightful. Keep it fun and active.

At first a sunset cruise on the Seine, directly upon our arrival seemed like a horrible idea. Two jet-lagged boys on a guided tour sounded like a recipe for disaster. As it turned out we were practically the only people on the boat that chilly November evening, and my boys were so tired they were incapable of round 27 of “He’s Touching Me – I’m Not Touching Him”. As the sun set, the twinkling lights of the Eiffel tower reflected in their eyes. They were awed by the sights, the sounds, the thrill of this new city.

The next day at the Louvre my boys displayed an astonishing amount of art appreciation. The secret here was telling them the dollar value of the art they are meant to appreciate. I didn’t know it myself of course, but gave them fantastically inflated numbers that made their eyes grow big and round. Plus, somehow they got the impression that if the even seemed to be considering touching the art, before their fingertips could brush the canvas, they would be shot by guards who dressed as tiny old French ladies in big coats. These women were everywhere in the museums, always alone, and staring at young children with menacing glares (Think Granny from the Bugs Bunny cartoons with an enormous hound’s-tooth check overcoats and maybe…… just maybe, an M16 hidden in the folds). They didn’t believe me of course, but when they saw how well-behaved and fearful the French children looked in their tidy little uniforms and precise straight lines, they did wonder.

We saw all the greats, Mona Lisa, Water Lilies, Winged Victory; but we never spent more than 30 minutes in any museum or between snacks. It worked wonderfully. In fact, due to the untold hours that each had spent playing some computer game called Age of Mythology, they recognized the Greek and Roman God sculptures much better than I. Don’t think I didn’t revel in the admiring glances from other parents as my young boys, in their turtle necks and corduroys said “Mom, look! It’s Aphrodite and Eros!” Ah yes, the value of a classic education!

The food was incredible and not terribly expensive. My boys squeamishly tasted pate, fois gras, and escargot. They hated it of course, but now take pride in telling people that they ate liver and snails in Paris – just like fear factor! We usually ate from street vendors and bakeries at impromptu outdoor picnics, keeping restaurant visits to a minimum. Their favorite activity was our self-guided hot chocolate tour of Paris. They kept a journal, and rated the delicious concoctions at each café. The very best, at Café Flore en I’lle, was served in 2 separate steaming pitchers, one of milk and one of liquid chocolate. It was the distinct winner, and my boys were consumed with creating the perfect mixture. I got to rest my feet and enjoy views of Notre Dame from our cozy table by the window, my sons on either side of me with matching chocolate mustaches.

Best of all though, is that when I embarrassed myself, as I do in every place I visit, my children were spared the humiliation since they didn’t understand the language. We were visiting a glorious little chapel called St. Chapelle. While inside, I set down my guidebook and camera to tie my son’s shoe, and accidentally walked out without them. Just as we were leaving, I realized my mistake, but the doors had been locked behind us and I couldn’t go back inside. I wandered around searching for security when I came upon a small cluster of young policemen. I asked them in French “Please, can you help me?” Then realized I didn’t know how to say that I had “left” my things inside. So what came out was “I have a book and a camera inside, can you help me?” (Complete with my most charming smile).

Well, I thought it was odd that the policemen all smiled sheepishly, hands in pockets, and looked at their shoes. They shot sideways glances at one another, and seemed embarrassed, on the verge of laughter. Again I pleaded “I have a book and a camera in there. Can you help me please? It is closed and no one is inside.” (Again the smile).

Finally, after much gesturing, I got one of the men to understand me and he kindly helped me retrieve my things. We left without further incident.

As I was falling asleep that night I was trying to understand my failure with the language. Then it dawned on me. The French word for book is “livre”. I had been saying “lit” which means BED! I had been begging these men “Please, come with me inside; no one is there. I have a BED and a camera; come with me now! No one is around.”

Don’t get me wrong here. It wasn’t a week full of meaningful moments filled with famous, awe-inspiring artwork while the sparkling lights of Paris reflected in my son’s eyes. There were plenty of excruciating rounds of “I Know You Are – But What Am I” “I Did Not – You Did Too” and the perennial favorite “Nolan Children Family Smack Down”. The point is that with humor, a sense of adventure, and lots of activity we had an unforgettable time together.

And not that I’m counting, but twice……TWICE they told me they thought I was amazing.