Tag Archives: life

October 29, 2025 · 10:54 am

87 Cars

We leave the house at around 6:25 a.m. during the week. We arrive at school around 6:50 a.m. Today I counted the cars that passed me going the other way. Heading in a different direction. There were 87 cars. 

At least 87 people drove past me on my left, heading to work, maybe home, maybe starting their vacation. I don’t know. I don’t even know if there were more people because it is dark at 6:30 in the morning.

What I know for sure is that there are 87 people living out their stories right now. Are those happy stories? Is someone feeling broken-hearted? Did someone start a new job today?

It is easy to get caught up in our lives, the small plot line we create. I can’t tell you how many times I have driven this route to school (OK I can because I blogged about it: From Home to School). But I never really considered all the stories happening around me, until today.

Until I counted the cars passing me going the other way.  There are 87 stories that I have not heard, but I hope they are doing well today.

I wonder how many of those 87 cars I’ll pass again tomorrow morning…

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October 19, 2025 · 8:19 pm

Reflections on a Sunday without Blueberry Muffins

This morning we had day-old Krispy Kreme donuts for breakfast. We packed our suitcases and got checked out of the hotel in time for church at 9:30. We saved a seat for my son and his wife, my new daughter-in-law, of less than 24 hours. 

We spent the weekend rehearsing, celebrating, and witnessing one of love’s milestones. As the father of the groom, I didn’t have a ton of responsibilities. We catered the rehearsal dinner which was held at the church. My hair takes like 30 seconds to get ready… now, my wife and daughters? Well, that started at 9 in the morning Saturday for a 2 o’clock wedding. So for those who know me, yes, I had time to think, to reflect on the deeper aspects of this weekend. 

Social Media

For the most part, I put my phone away. I took some pictures, but my wife is better at that aspect of our life. I did interact a little on X and Instagram, but mostly I enjoyed the weekend. I did not post a single thing on social media about the weekend. I was letting other individuals do that. I was just present, and it was joyful. We talked, we went and got coffee, we sat by the firepit at the hotel. (My daughters and I did witness a guy riding a bicycle crash into the closed gate where we were sitting, but that is another story.)

At the reception we danced and enjoyed the dinner. 

But what I really noticed was the emotions we all expressed. The genuine feelings, the tears, the laughter, the expression of living without worrying about getting the right angle for a photo, or hurrying to post a reaction. I was in the moment, and it was a beautiful moment.

Family

There were two different moments that highlighted what it means to be family. If you’re new to my blog you will need to read some past blogs to understand my complex story. I am not going to spend time covering that.

The first moment happened after the rehearsal dinner. My future daughter-in-law was carrying a tote bag with “Mrs. Boelhower” printed on the side in script lettering. When I asked about it, her face lit up with a smile. She explained it was a gift and asked if we liked it (my wife and daughters were with me). One of my daughters piped up and said, “Wow, now there are two Mrs. Boelhowers!”

We all laughed but it got me thinking…

Hold on, let me connect another moment.

The reception hall was filled with family and friends. My daughter and I were taking a break from dancing. I sat next to my ‘adopted’ dad (again, if you’re new to my blog you’ll have to catch up on the backstory) and chatted about life. My wife’s side of the family was strong in numbers, and so was my daughter-in-law’s.  But there were only 9 Boelhowers. And one of those just joined our clan.

A weird mix of pride, sorrow, and resolve washed over me. I was the patriarch of this small family tree that was slowly growing strong roots. As my son danced with his new wife, I had to catch my breath because I saw, as they danced, that all the pain I endured, all the hardships I went through, the sometimes spirit-breaking decisions I made, was worth it. I had a family, I was providing, as best as I could, a life for my children that I never had.

Family is not just blood. It is choices, it is commitment, it is love given and received. My daughter-in-law will be loved just like my own children. And I will continue to nurture this little family tree to take root in a life filled with love.

It is all Connected

No, not this blog. But the idea behind the title of this blog. Sometimes it takes decades to see how two dots connect. During the church service the priest was talking about this idea, and he mentioned that he did not know every parishioners’ story that brought them to the church today, but he imagined they all had their own hardships and celebrations. But they were here now.

During the reception, I was aware of how important the moment was when my ‘adopted’ father said I could live with him and his family when I was sixteen. There was a direct line from that moment to the wedding. The story between the dots is fascinating, filled with heartache and joy, like any story. But without the opportunity he gave me, we would not be sitting together laughing and talking about life.

It is hard to have what I call The Long View. A term I use in the classroom to help my students see that their actions today will impact where they are in the future, what opportunities they will have. But when looking back (and I think we should, to appreciate the journey) we see the path, we see the benchmarks of how life brought us to today. 

And we can smile, breathe in the joy, and see how it is all connected… and this weekend proved that the best connections are built with love. 

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August 10, 2025 · 6:58 pm

No Blueberry Muffins

Faithful readers know that on Sunday we make blueberry muffins for breakfast. That almost didn’t happen today.

First a little backstory. Yesterday (Saturday) my wife’s sister hosted a couple’s shower for my oldest son and his fiancee. It was a good day of fellowship with family and friends. And there was a fantastic brunch; two types of breakfast casserole, biscuits and gravy, homemade cinnamon rolls, and a variety of fruit. One of the trays was decorated with pieces of pineapple and watermelon hearts on skewers. 

Of course there were leftovers. We came home with a small pan of breakfast casserole, biscuits and gravy, and a dozen cinnamon rolls. (My wife’s family always makes enough that you take home some leftovers!)

Last night as my wife and I talked about the day and the plan for breakfast on Sunday, the idea of just using the leftovers was a tempting option. But in my head I thought, ‘but it is Sunday, we make muffins and scrambled eggs and sausage.’ Plus, all our children would be at breakfast. That hasn’t happened in a long time.

I said that we should make our traditional blueberry muffin breakfast. My wife agreed. So, we got up early to make the muffins, but we still warmed up the breakfast casserole. A few of the kids added a cinnamon roll to their plates. And the morning was filled with laughter and conversation. We were a full family at the table.

Now, I understand that offering just the leftovers would have been fine. But blueberry muffins are a tradition. And sometimes, you have to work at keeping traditions. It is one of the ironies of life, how easy it is to do the easy thing and break traditions, or good habits you have fostered.

Our daily life is filled with moments that challenge us to choose an easy option, or an option that takes a little more work or energy, but has a better payoff and builds stronger bonds. Or, in our case continue a tradition that is central to our family. Blueberry muffins on Sunday morning.

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July 11, 2025 · 5:34 pm

All That Work

I would like to talk about Stephen Curry for a moment. One, because he is my daughter’s favorite player. Two, to make a deep thoughtful parallel to life.

The following video is of Stephen Curry’s pregame routine on January 22, 2023. During this routine he made 122 shots from 184 attempts. I did miss a few shots because of the camera angle at times. 

Golden State lost the game that night to Brookyln, 120 – 116. Curry went 7-16 on field goals, 4-8 for three’s and 8-8 on the free throw line. Stephen Curry took 32 shots for the game.

Here is Stephen Curry’s season totals (FG, 3pt, and free throws) 559-1133, 273-639, and 257-281. For a total of 2,053 attempts. That’s a lot of shots.

But he attempted 14,760 shots during his pregame warm-ups for the season!

I am not even considering his practices for the season, or the work Stephen Curry put in during the off season. 

I could have used Kevin Garnett (my favorite player), or Kobe Bryant, or any professional athlete in any sport to highlight how much work they put in for games, or events. Consider how much work Usain Bolt put in just to run 9.58 seconds.

What’s the connection to life?

Life gives us big moments. Sometimes they are tragic, a death or car accident. Sometimes they are joyful, graduations or fulfilling a goal. How we handle the big moments is dependent on the work we do in our everyday life.

That work is different from shooting a basketball, but just as important. The work involves building and maintaining relationships. Spending the time we are given each day in ways that bring us joy. The work can be in working in our soul to heal wounds. The work is living a life filled with love and purpose that reflects our hearts.

The big moments will come… how we handle them is centered on all the work we do during the ordinary days. And the ordinary days are how we measure the quality of our lives. 

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June 13, 2025 · 12:39 pm

I Untie My Shoes

For the last couple of months, I have been untying my shoes when I take them off. Yes, that means I have to tie them when I put them on.

Yesterday I spent almost an hour trying to find the right word for a poem. A single word. I was working with meaning and syllable count for that word, but still, I spent time finding the right word.

My screen time is down almost 15%.

Over the last 11 weeks my steps have jumped up over 3,000 more steps a day.

I’ve heard the quote, “How you do one thing is how you do everything,” used in movies and TV shows lately. 

Each day we have 24 hours. Everyone. 

How we use it is the fundamental factor to the quality of our lives. Even when bad things happen, or unexpected challenges, it is our responsibility to decide how we deal with the time we are given.

I have decided to untie my shoes when I take them off.

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May 31, 2025 · 4:46 pm

PAD 2025: Poem 3

On day three of the PAD challenge Robert asked us to write a short poem. Nothing longer than 10 lines. Now, there are quite a number of short poetic forms, Robert provided a few in the overview of the prompt for the day. Creating a poem in a few lines, and with the presented rules of a particular form can stretch one’s creative mind.

Throughout the month I wrote some short poems because of how the prompt inspired me. For day three I specifically wanted to use a poetic form. Without any idea for the poem, I decided to write a Shadorma. I like this poetic form (you can expand the poem by making stanzas from the guidelines).

But I had no theme or prompt word to go with it. So, I had a different hurdle to overcome. Here is the poem I wrote that day. I will discuss how I got the idea afterwards.

My heart is

a candle whose flame –

surrounded

by darkness –

jumps and sparks trying to keep

the light from fading.

Writing in poetic forms has a built-in challenge. Meshing my ideas within the rules of a form can take days, even weeks for me to accomplish. Throw in a short poetic form, and write it in a day for the PAD challenge and I sat there drinking my coffee with my head spinning.

With or without a poetic form, short poetry is not easy. The theme and intensity of an idea has to come through in just a few words or lines. And it has to hit the reader, hard. At least I think it does. Short poetry should be like drinking a shot, full flavor that then sits warm in the reader’s mind.

The idea for this poem started with the candle that sat on our island. We tend to keep a candle on the island that we light at the end of the day. Just a part of our family routine. I noticed the burnt wick, dark and frayed. Then, I started to consider how bad the year had been. I then considered the sayings about a single light against the darkness. In my mind I saw a candle in the middle of darkness, how small the light was. I thought about how fast the darkness would be complete if the fire on the wick sputtered and went out.

I had my idea. 

I used my lunch period to work through the poem. I started with the metaphor, “My heart is a candle…”  I actually had to work line 3 and 4 through a few different versions. These lines are only three syllables long. I wanted the tension of the darkness surrounding the flame to come through, to have that tone of sadness to hit and stay throughout the poem.

Here is where punctuation makes a difference in the poem. I could have used commas. But the emdash created the tone I wanted for the weight of the darkness. I then continued with the imagery of the flame that was fighting to stay alive.

Writing this poem encompassed the importance of punctuation, the challenge of short poetry, and how everyday objects, the candle on the island, can be the spark for inspiration. I think the poem also reinforces the power of writing in a poetic form, it can make you really delve into word choice, theme, and expression that you might not normally do.

Let me know what you think of the poem, or of any of the ideas I discuss in this post. Share your thoughts in the comment section.

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May 7, 2025 · 9:15 pm

The Heart Goes…

I have coached football for almost 30 years. When I teach how to tackle, I teach the player to focus their eyes on the opposing players hips. To keep their head up. They should never see the grass of the field. 

I was a running back. I was taught to read my offensive linemen’s numbers. To follow their lead.

I have coached basketball. When a player is dribbling, I instruct them to have their eyes up, never look at the ball.

I have coached every event in track and field. I was a jumper in high school and college. I never looked at the board when jumping. I coach my athletes not to look at the board because the body goes where the eyes go.

But in life, there is another part of ourselves that goes with where the eyes go… that is our heart.

This is important to consider, especially at this moment in our culture. Our eyes are practically glued to screens. As a dad I see parents just sit on a park bench as their child plays. I see it in the hallways of school. I battle everyday to get students to put their phones away. You can see people looking at their phones as they drive.

The heart goes where the eyes go. Just the fact of being locked onto the screen shows what matters to someone. Parents ignore their children, students don’t talk to anyone, people don’t even know when the light changes.

I believe that our actions show what we truly care about. At this moment, I see people care more about their phones than other people, the blue sky, a friend, because their eyes are on a screen. Their heart is for the screen.

I haven’t even discussed what is on the screen, just the action of staring for HOURS a day at a screen. Our heart goes where our eyes go.

We are missing out on relationships, beauty, and a depth to our own lives because we don’t look up. We don’t observe. We don’t think. These actions strengthen our hearts. Good and bad times strengthen our hearts, but only if we look up. Observe the complexity of loving someone. Of striving for a goal. Reacting to another’s tears.  We have to see these to feel them.

If you want to know what condition your heart is in, follow where your eyes go.

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March 23, 2025 · 9:25 pm

Song Number 25

I was walking last weekend and decided to listen to my top songs from 2022 on Spotify. I have saved my top song playlist for each year. They are like musical historical documents. I enjoy writing my musical blog posts, and my first idea was to share the number ones, but that seemed to be too obvious of a choice. I had a few other ideas, but then it hit me that I would use the twenty fifth song… because 25 was my football number. And that felt right. So, here is a look back at my 25th favorite song from the last four years with a small comment for each song. Enjoy learning a little about me through music.

2021: “I can See it in Your Eyes” by Men at Work

Comment: The first cassette I ever bought was Men at Work’s Business as Usual. Which is the album that this song comes from. As I have grown older, this song has become a classic break-up song. And one I understand better. The mix of nostalgia and how a relationship can just change without a reason why.

2022: “Life in a Northern Town” by The Dream Academy

Comment: This song always painted a picture of hope amongst hard times. The song was inspired by the shipyard closures in northern England. But for me the music and lyrics mix in a way to inspire a sense of hope. When I was younger, I imagined it was me at the end of the song leaving. Even now this song comforts my spirit (as does the whole album).

2023: “Nice To Meet Ya” by Niall Horan

Comment: I do like modern music. And I enjoy songs that make me want to move, that indulge in a little romantic vibe. This song does both. I remember hearing for the first time on the commute to school. When I got to school I found it on Spotify and played it on repeat. Every time it came on the radio, I sang it to my wife. She just rolled her eyes (LOL), but with a smile. She knows my musical taste. (I have a playlist dedicated to these kinds of songs.)

2024: “Headed for a Heartbreak” by Winger

Comment: I was actually surprised that this song was this high when I first looked up the songs for each year. But after considering all the personal events and other challenges that the last couple of years brought, I could understand. And yes, it is kind of a sappy song, but that is another part of me (yes, I have a playlist dedicated to these kinds of songs, too). I was in high school when this song was released and going through some turbulent times trying to change the trajectory of my life. This song just fit for me at that time. And like the history lesson music is for all of us, it has stayed with me. It is number 12 on my top 100 of all time list. 

Honestly, I was a little surprised at the songs sitting at the twenty fifth spot for the last four years. I thought the songs would be more modern but three of the four are songs that best represent my history. Songs that remind me of where I came from, but still inspire me to move forward to become the person I wanted to be when the songs entered my life.

What are some of your foundational songs, songs that represent your history? Share them in the comment section.

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January 27, 2025 · 11:26 am

Older Blog Post 4 (Communicate)

Dadlife… it is amazing to look back at these moments knowing how my children have grown. But also how the lessons from these moments still hold true… Original post is from April 2010.

“Communicate”

            It was 1:10 in the morning and my 4-month-old daughter is antsy. I get up and find the pacifier. No go. She spits it out. I try again. She settles down. I creep back to my bed. Pull the blanket over me and feel the quiet darkness of sleep fill my mind.

            “Augghrrr, Augghrrr, whaaaa,” she cries.

            With a sigh only a frustrate parent knows, I head back to the crib. I try the pacifier again, but she is not settling down. OK, diaper? I set her down and get a clean diaper on her.  Lay her down, repeat the bed, cover, darkness of sleep and she repeats her audible noise of discontent.

            My wife groggily suggests a 4-ounce bottle. So, I head upstairs. I am actually waking up by this time. My wife feeds her, I fall back asleep. 

            In a blur of slumber and frustration, my daughter wakes me up. It is now 1:36. I go for the pacifier, again. We fall into a pacifier, spit it out, pacifier; spit it out routine with a few of those frustrated sighs thrown in for fun.

            I pick her up. In the darkness, I can see her looking at me. Then her eyes close.  For the next five minutes, I rock her in my arms. Victory. I lay her down, check the pacifier and head to my pillow.

            1:52. My frustration level is now high. But I squash it. Let out a good 30-second sigh and head to the crib. Next trick is laying her on her belly. This time it works. With a last little sigh, from her, the night continues.

            As a fall asleep, I think about how much easier it would be if she could only tell me what she wants, or what is bugging her. My mind wanders about that idea, about how many of life’s hardships are based on this premise. The ability to communicate. To communicate truthfully. To simply express what is bugging us. To tell the people around us what we need. Many times, we are afraid of what will happen if we do. What will the other person think? Does this make me look weak? Do I have the words to actually express what I am feeling?

            I see the negative consequences of not communicating in the classroom and in life. I see people just continue to be “antsy” and live everyday in a constant agitated state, simply because they will not or cannot communicate what they need. 

            I hear my little girl sleeping soundly, I had figured out what she wanted. But, I cannot wait until she can tell me in her own words.

            4:50 a.m.  It is the alarm clock this time.  I restrain from telling the clock what I feel this morning….

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January 23, 2025 · 11:19 am

Older Blog Post 3 (Open Letter)

It is hard not to fix some of the grammar or style of these older posts. But the voice of the writing still reflects me well. This is an open letter blog post to my high school football coach, posted March 2010.

“Open letter to Coach Yeaman, my football coach.”

Dear Coach Yeaman,

            I hope this letter finds you in good spirits and still coaching.  At the moment, I am at a crossroads in my life and find myself relying on a foundation you helped install in me to get me through this moment.  I do not know if you consciously thought of this foundation in your coaching philosophy, all I know is that it was a major factor in how our athlete – coach relationship was built.  And that foundation was Truth.  The truth of where I was athletically, of who I could become, and what it took to get things done.  I do not remember you ever talking about this foundation, but you coached it.  Even on my first day of organized football.

            I had just moved to Douglas, Wyoming, the summer of 1984.  I would have been a seventh grader and wanted the chance to play football.  I wanted to be a running back.  I had big dreams of breaking tackles and running for the end zone.  But, I was over-weight.  Coming from a lifestyle of sitting in front of the TV, playing video games (Atari at that time) and eating frozen pizza almost all the time.  I was at 200 plus pounds, but in my head, I was a running back.

            We had finished warming up, the weight of the helmet was stiffing up my neck, and I was sweating; yet feeling good.  You hollered to break up into offensive groups.  Running backs were in the west corner of the field (oh yes, I remember because me and the light post in that corner would be good friends soon).

            “Monkey rolls.  Eighth graders show them how it is done.”

            Three boys fell to the ground in a blur of motion, one body popping up every other second as the other two rolled.  The whistle blew, three more bodies.  My turn.  We did not make it ten seconds.  I did not know it then, but I was a DK (drill killer).  My group did not get through a cycle, but I was winded.  I walked back to the line to wait my second turn.  My head drooping.

            “Let’s do this right this time, men.”  I was determined to do it right.  My group actually got through a couple of rotations before I killed it again, but this time it was because I was going to be sick.  My body felt like lead, my head light, and I stumbled toward the light pole for support.  I could feel the group watching as the wave of nausea moved up and out.  I did not even have time to take off my helmet.  I do not know how long I was there, but it felt like forever.  Just when I thought I could stand, another wave would hit.  In the distance, I could hear practice continuing without me.

            At some point, I stood up and there you were.

            “Get a drink, rinse off your helmet, and why don’t you go practice with the line,” and then you patted my shoulder and walked away.  I was heartbroken, but headed to the other side of the field.  You did not make a big deal about it, but simply stated what was true at that moment.  I was not a running back, yet.

            I would spend the next month finding my athletic ability.  I practiced as a center; in fact, I would be a long snapper, at times, even in high school.  Many nights after practice I would get home and fall asleep from exhaustion.  However, toward the end of the season I was practicing as a halfback.  (Remember my first attempt at running our reverse play? How John and I just ran into each other at full speed.  I do not think I ever saw you laugh that hard ever again.)

            I was lucky enough to have you as my junior high and high school coach.  Over the next five seasons, there would be all kinds of moments where you would use the truth as a foundation of coaching.

            I got the chance to be a varsity kick returner as a freshman because I held onto a punt as I was leveled during a JV game.  As a senior, a junior wanted my position as kick returner.  He was faster then me.  I lost the “run-off”.  Yet, I did not lose my position, you said there was more to returning than speed.  You even apologized to me when you were wrong.  We were flagged for false start during a trick two-point play.  On the sideline, you yelled at me for it.  However, after watching film you apologized because it was the fullback.  There are a number of different memories I have that you let me learn the hard way.  But it always revealed the truth of the situation or my effort.

            I wish I could say we had won a state title, but my senior year we went 2-6.  We lost our last game in triple overtime.  I wish I could say my life was a typical teenager’s, but it was not.  I had to go through some very rough times.  But your greatest lesson to me, the one that helped me through high school, and throughout my entire life happened in eighth grade.

            It was halfway through the season; I had grown a few inches.  I had filled out some. Life in school was good.  I had made some good friends during my seventh grade year.  Home life had, at the moment, settled down.  I was feeling good.

            We were practicing offensive plays.  I was not actually dogging it, but I was not practicing hard.  I was being tackled by the first hits.  The whistle blew.  I dropped the ball down, headed to the huddle, only to be grabbed by the facemask, and turned 180 degrees to face you.

            Honestly, I cannot remember exactly what you said.  The main point was that I was too big, too talented to be playing like I was.  The message was delivered hard and fast.  The message was not negative, but I was crying.  You blew the whistle, called the play, and continued to tell me that I needed to hit that hole like I could.

            I could barely see the offensive line through my tears.  My mind had cleared with an intense “I’ll show you” focus.  Snap.  I shot forward.  I do not remember seeing the hole or the defense.  But I ran.

            The whistle blared, “Freeze, everyone.  Don’t move.”  I “opened” my eyes.  I stood alone looking at the tennis/basketball courts in the distance.

            You hollered for me to turn around.  There was a line of junior high players on the ground highlighting my path.

            “That is what you are capable of, Jamey.”  And practice continued.

            Again, it would be nice to express how life was perfect from that moment on, but that would not be the truth.  I did get a scholarship to play football at Hastings College.  But I quit after one season (my biggest regret).  I have had other low points, but have focused my efforts and ran through.  I am now a father of five and married to a lovely wife.  I am a teacher and a coach.  And one of the founding aspects of my coaching philosophy is truth.  To show my athletes what they can do, just as you did for me so many seasons ago.  Thank you, Coach Yeaman.

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