An intro from Sandi

I’m a Colorado native where the air is crisp and the weed is legal. :smirk:

I’m the youngest of 6 kids, raised in a hell-fire and brimstone conservative Christian home. It took the better part of three decades to shatter through a worldview of bondage and scarcity (more of a statement on my father’s heavy hand than it is on Christianity… although I’ve fled from organized religion and don’t plan to return).

My oldest brother tragically died at 15. I was 2 and have no memories of him. As a result, there was a bond of mourning amongst my mom and older siblings - a private party of sorts. That collective lived experience of loss was always just beyond my reach. We all bonded, however, on surviving my dad’s faith. My inner child can be found in my writing. :blush:

Dad was an inventor. It was a monopoly game of feast and famine. Some years on Boardwalk. Others on Baltic Avenue. We moved. A lot. Thank goodness for the get out of jail free card!

Childhood wasn’t all bad. There are certain advantages to being the youngest. And, there were magical moments when God wasn’t judging and the older kids were my playground and safe place.

I married young. 22. Mike is the butter on my mashed potatoes. We spent 7 years as a couple before adding 2 kids into our cake mix. Delani (we later learned meant “offspring of the challenger” … and she lived up to that in her teen years!!) and Jordan (sweet, gentle. Born a boy. Now a beautiful transgender young lady). NOTE: Good thing my worldview shattered! If there is a God, she doesn’t make mistakes. :wink:

We refer to our family unit as the A-Team. For the good, the bad, and sometimes the ugly – we are a united front of safety and comfort. Of course, Lani (25) lives in Jacksonville, and Jordy (22) lives in Boulder – so it’s rare we are all in the same room at the same time. Of all my roles in life - motherhood is my favorite. The biggest challenge about being an empty nester is not having someone available to make a snowman or snow angels when we are hit with three feet of snow (last week, case in point). It’s also challenging on Saturday mornings when there are no kids to eat Mike’s banana pancakes. We are adjusting, as are our waistbands.

Good grief, this is getting long! :grimacing:

If I still have you … My professional background is in business development, marketing, and non-profit leadership (both 501c3 and c6). Outreach helps me feel better about the chaos in the world. I believe all challenges could be solved if we could figure out the messaging that would resonate with our opponents. At the same time, I believe we have to learn to listen to the messaging of those who oppose us. (Must be the marketer in me).

We have more in common than we think. Poetry is a universal language and a survival mechanism.

Writing entered my world in high school when a creative writing teacher (Mr. Howzer, I can still remember!) made us write in a journal for a semester. Through journaling, I found my inner poet. I submitted a few pieces in high school and college. Over the years it’s been a long and sometimes tiring game of hide-and-seek with my muse. She’s playful and finds the best hiding places. I’m able to find her when I create space for a writing practice and engage with other writers (you know, act like an adult with a pen).

I’ve been a member (and past president) of the Poetry Society of Colorado for about 15 years. I’ve also happened upon some great writing groups and supportive people who somehow relate to the words I toss on a page.

I’m likely the poorest poetry student hanging out in this tree. Although, I do read about 50 books a year – all genres – I’m not a faithful student of poetry. I’m equally as moved by the greats as I am by a poem written by a 2nd grader - especially if the medium is construction paper and crayon. :crayon:

The 2024 NAPO was a great experience and it felt like a late-night sleepover on my best friend’s canopy bed! Thank you for the community and inspiration!

Tracy invited me to the FIVES and I’m appreciative at the opportunity to claim my branch on this tree! I look forward to reading everyone’s writing!

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Sandi–what a marvelous and heartfelt introduction. I feel like I know you much better and have a richer and deeper feel for your poetry. And I am so pleased that we get the benefit of your energy, talent and gregariousness.

Now, please take this in the kindest way–what I told you at NaPo last April must have gone in one ear and out the other. So place your hand over your left year, and tilt your right ear toward the screen and listen:

YOU ARE A MEMBER OF THE TANGLED BRANCH, BOTH TTB CLASSIC, AND THIS TTB UPGRADE, WHICH MEANS: *YOU DO NOT NEED AN INVITATION–*YOU ARE A MEMBER. THIS IS YOUR SITE–THE POOL AND STEAM ROOM, THE LOCKERROOMS, THE LIBRARY AND CAFETERIA. THE GARAGE, STABLES AND HELI-PORT–ALL FOR YOUR USE AS A MEMBER WITHOUT NEEDING AN INVITATION!!!

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Noted! :nerd_face:
Thanks, friend! :melting_face:

PS. So, where is the steam room located?

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Exactly this!

thanks for the detailed intro.
I got to this:

and was like, “maybe, but keep going”. It’s a pleasure to meet you and get to know something about you.

Marc

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The steamroom? Grab your towel and follow Sharon. :grinning:

Sandi!! So good to see you here! Wow, what a fun bio, it’s great to get to know you. And I agree, '24 NaPo was so fun!

The A team-- love it. How I envy your long, happy union. I’m with you, motherhood is and has been my favorite vocation by far.

Steam room?? I was raised by second-generation Finns, so there was an authentic wood-burning sauna built at every place we lived. Pretty sure I can steam you onto the floor and out the door! :rofl: I like it HOT.

I’m going to borrow a word from across the pond and say, I’m chuffed you’re here. (No other word fits as well!)

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Temporary hijack of Sandi’s thread:

Sharon, I lived for ten years in the Finish Hills of west central Minnesota, where the vintage motto was “A Finn on every forty.” Every farm site, occupied or not, had its own vintage outdoor hewn wood sauna. And the Finns,–there were still plenty there, and we made friends – Esala, Haabala, Nissala, Hokanen, Keskenen, etc.

Here is a [bad] poem I wrote about their forebears, which you brought to mind:

**Immigrants**

They live in the sauna
while they build a barn,
live in the barn
while they build a house.

Their sons get tongue-tied
around the awkward girl
on the next farm over

The names of their relatives
still back in the old country?
They give ‘em out,
one by one, to the cows.

Okay, hijack over. As you were.

I love it Tracy!! Quite so :laughing:

Towel?? Ooops!!! :face_with_hand_over_mouth:

:rofl: :joy:

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Hi and welcome, Sandi :smiley:
Looking at the intros, aren’t we all so very different. It’s something I’d forgotten, or possibly wasn’t really aware of, just assuming that we’re all mostly the same. It’s easier to be less humane when we make this assumption. Thank you (and everyone else) for reminding me.

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