Barb Caffrey's Blog

Writing the Elfyverse . . . and beyond

Archive for the ‘Persistence’ Category

What I Have Been Doing…

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Folks, I have not been very communicative lately. I realize that. I’ve been struggling with several things, including plantar fasciitis in my left heel that makes walking difficult and painful. (That’s saying something, as I already walk with a cane and deal with pain daily from my knees and back.) I’ve been saving my energy mostly for editing and writing.

Mind, I do have a few things to report in that area. I’ve been very cagey about it, but I am about done with a novel set in my friend and client Chris Nuttall’s Schooled in Magic universe. I have 105,000 words written, and that seems to be about the right length…now I have to go back and smooth out some rough edges, before I can send it to my four chosen readers (two that know the SIM universe, and two that don’t), to see what they think and what I need to do next.

You might be wondering who I’m writing about. I will tell you this much: it’s not about Emily. It’s not about Nanette (though that did tempt me). It’s instead about a minor character in Adam’s trilogy (starting with The Cunning Man) that I felt was getting a bit of a bad rap, whose story just kind of hit me in the head one day.

I hadn’t intended to write it, mind you. But after reading the third novel, where this character acts a whole lot better (and it did make sense), I had a whole monologue show up, in first person, that I wrote down. I showed it to Chris, and also showed it to another good friend who knows the SIM universe well, Leo Champion…they both said I had to keep going.

So, for the last three years, that’s what I’ve been doing. Sometimes progress has been slow. Sometimes it’s been in leaps and bounds. But I now have a viable story, what I hope will be the first of a trilogy of stories about this character.

After my four readers see it and tell me what they think, I’ll have a better idea as to a timeline as to when it may come out. My hope is for early fall, but we’ll see. I do intend to give “teaser” chapters when the time comes.

“But Barb,” I can hear you asking. “What about your three existing novels? What’s up with them? They’re not back out there yet.”

I have submitted them to a new publisher, and they are in that pipeline. So far, they haven’t been rejected yet (I asked about them a few days ago, hoping I wasn’t jogging the publisher’s elbow too much), but I do have a backup plan in case they are. I hope to have them back out again before the novel in Chris’s SIM universe comes out.

As far as other writing goes, Gail Sanders and I wrote a third story about Lance Corporal Marcus McGruder and Master Sergeant Peter Welmsley for an upcoming anthology (no, I won’t tell you exactly what the story is, or when it may come out, as it hasn’t been accepted yet and I’m superstitious that way). I have a backup plan for that, too…lately, my life seems all about “backup plans,” for lack of a better term.

For those of you wondering about my living situation, it’s in the same place as before. I’ll keep you posted, elsewise.

Other than that, I’ve been trying to help several rescue groups — some nearby, some not — to let folks know that good dogs are available in the various animal shelters. Many shelters waive fees for at-risk dogs (“at-risk” meaning they’re on the equivalent of doggie death row, or euthanasia), and most of the time the only reason these poor dogs are at-risk is because of overcrowding at the animal shelters.

This is the worst time of year for that, mind you. For whatever reason, dogs, cats, and other animals end up in the shelters far more often in the summer than any other time of the year, and they don’t deserve it.

I feel for these dogs (usually the cats are more easily placed, so I’m mentioning the dogs instead). They are kind-hearted, loving dogs, well-socialized, many of them get along with other dogs, with kids, some get along with cats, and the shelters notate which ones are especially good at taking treats gently from your hands or don’t pull on the leash.

They’ve done nothing to end up in the circumstances they’re in. They’ve just loved people, sometimes those who’ve let them down, and sometimes those who through no fault of theirs can no longer take care of them.

Being in the shelter is scary for them. They don’t know why they’re there.

I believe in lifelong pet ownership whenever possible. (Longtime readers of my blog know this.) My favorite dog ever, Trouble, was over seventeen when he died (he was a Shih Tzu mix of some sort, gray, black, and white). My mother’s little dog, Bratty, is now over seventeen, and is still as feisty as ever. (I hope Mom will have Bratty for quite some time yet, but of course you never know.) Mom’s dogs Floyd and Blackie were at least thirteen before they passed (Blackie was a bit bigger and a Cocker spaniel mix of some sort; Floyd was “genuine American mutt,” sweet, loving, but don’t trust him around pizza or seafood!), and the only dog I can recall of any she had dying early was Clyde, who was only six years old but had a neurological issue that caused paralysis, and the vets weren’t able to do anything to help him.

So, I see these young dogs — some are only a year or two old! — in the shelter, and my heart just cracks open for them. They could have decades left if they only find the right person, the right family, for them.

My friend Rosemary Edghill, who died recently, rescued Cavalier King Charles spaniels, especially the older ones. I’ve been doing a lot more dog rescuing work (sharing posts, discussing things with volunteers, and such) since she passed. I’m not sure why this is, except that I admired her, and wanted at least one thing I could do to help remember her by. I hope my efforts, small as they are, will do some good…and at least they can’t do harm.

I am not in a position where I can get a dog of my own. (More’s the pity.) But I can share when good dogs are available, and I’ve tried to do that lately, especially on my Facebook page. There are several excellent rescue places that are nearby, including It’s a Pittie Rescue and Chi-Town Pitties, that often feature wonderful dogs. The Chicago area shelters are full, too, as are the folks in Atlanta (I often share for them), and there are so many wonderful and amazing animals there that deserve their forever homes.

It’s something that can break your heart, if you let it, trying to rescue animals. But my motto is, do whatever you can, for as long as you can, and hope that your efforts will do some good.

That’s my motto overall. About writing, about music, about dog-rescuing, about friendship…help as you’re able, do whatever you can, and hope your efforts do some good even if you can’t see it.

Anyway, that’s what’s going on with me here in Chez Caffrey. What’s going on with you? Let me know in the comments.

Written by Barb Caffrey

August 3, 2026 at 10:06 am

Posted in Atlantean Union, heartbreaking stories, Heartwarming stories, in general, Informational Stuff, Persistence, Prescient observations, Remembrance, Writing

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Just an Ordinary Day? Reflections on Grief

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I’ve now been without the love of my life, Michael B. Caffrey, for twenty-one years, nine months, and twenty-three days.

Every day, when I wake up, I think about how long it’s been. Sometimes it feels like forever, and sometimes it feels like I just saw him a minute ago. I’m fortunate, as I’ve said before, that I often feel his love around me, supporting me, giving me a reason to keep trying even on the difficult days.

This is one of them.

See, while Michael never would’ve celebrated it — and I would not have talked about it when he was alive except with my closest friends — this would’ve been his sixty-eighth birthday. He did not like to celebrate his birthday whatsoever, but he liked to celebrate every other day — the unBirthdays, if you will — especially after we found each other and married.

For him, a birthday was no different than any other day. He wasn’t interested in most celebrations. But he was happy to celebrate being with me, and I was happy to celebrate being with him on his natal day or any other day.

Michael was the most positive person I’ve ever known. He had faith, kindness, goodness — though he’d say he was “as pure as the driven slush,” mind you — was faithful, loyal, honorable, ethical, had a wicked sense of humor, and showed me how much he loved me every single day.

I waited a long time before I found him. As I’ve said before, he and I were both divorced when we met, and he pretty much said to himself (not to me, not then) that I was going to be the woman he married. But he didn’t want to scare me off, as he knew I was quite gun-shy by that point.

I don’t know how he got me to hear him. To trust that he was different, that he truly cared, that he would not betray me (not cheat, not lie, not steal, not any of that), to believe that just once, in this life, I had found a mental equal along with a spiritual, physical, and emotional one. But he did, and we had that amazing conversation for thirty-six hours — our first lengthy conversation, and the longest, but it wouldn’t be the last — around Christmas Day of 2001. Neither one of us wanted to go to bed, to leave our conversation, to stop talking, because I think we both feared it wouldn’t be real and it wouldn’t have happened if we went to sleep.

In fact, if I remember right, when I got up the next day, Michael left me an email with a subject line something like, “On Further Review…” So, I opened that email with a bit of trepidation, thinking he might’ve been trying to walk back what we’d discussed the previous evening and throughout the day and night again.

His first line, after saying something like, “Hi, beautiful woman of my dreams,” was this: “I take none of it back.”

This was the first time, and maybe the only time, I’d ever met someone who’d stand by his word. Where the words mattered as much as the actions. Where the dreams we had, that we’d never told anyone about, were safe to discuss. That our creativity could flower due to our deep and incredible connectedness to each other…I had no idea that someone could be this enthused about anything I wanted to do that was positive.

I mean, I’d write music, and he’d read it. He could read all clefs, too. I don’t know if he ever played an instrument, but he read music and understood it.

I’d write words, and he’d sit down with me, read them over, show me some stuff he was doing, I’d read that over…I think we both grew as writers and editors because of each other.

And the wide-ranging interests he had…he knew so much about so many different subjects, and he always wanted to learn more. He looked for deeper and richer experiences all the days of his life, did not suffer fools gladly (or at all), was ethical, principled, constantly made me laugh, was always learning, and was always so present in the moment. (I think that was due to his practice of Zen Buddhism.)

The bone-deep sincerity of him, along with his maturity, his wisdom, his serenity…it was and remains an incredibly attractive combination, one I’ve seen matched nowhere else, by no one else.

(Aside: While I do hope, now, to eventually meet another good man, long-time readers of my blog know this took me almost twelve years — twelve full years — after Michael died to admit I still wanted. It hasn’t happened since. But I know that Michael’s love for me was profound and he’d never want to stand in my way for any potential happiness. End aside.)

So, my grief has been profound for my wonderful, incredible, amazing, sexy, smart, funny, ethical, principled, and intelligent man, my Michael. The three days that are the hardest for me to bear are this one, our wedding anniversary (in June), and the day of his death in September. It’s hard to believe that such a huge presence, someone I still feel around me to the point I wake up and am immediately disappointed as Michael is still dead…well. It’s hard to believe I’ll never hold him in the circle of my arms again.

Grief comes in waves. Some days, it’s like a tsunami and all you can do is try to withstand it however you may, so you’re standing…albeit in a bunch of floating wreckage. Some days, it’s more bittersweet, because the good things that happened make you smile, and knowing that this astonishing person was your husband, is your husband still and always will be no matter what happens to our bodies after this life on Earth ends, outweighs anything else.

Mostly, though, I have a form of PTSD, something my last two counselors discussed with me. I saw Michael fall, behind me, with the first of his four heart attacks. (He was too far away for me to catch, and as I’ve said before here on my blog, I would’ve dislocated both arms had I tried. But I would’ve tried. I would’ve done anything to stop that from happening.) I heard his last words, which were “where’s my wife?” as I’d been sent up to our apartment to get the meds he took, as that potentially might save his life (the guy next door was a paramedic, and he said to do this; it made sense to me). I told him I’d be right back and for him to hold on…but when I got back down there, he was being loaded into the ambulance, no pulse, no breathing.

I knew what that was. Bad, bad, and more bad.

They kept trying, because he was only forty-six. He’d had no signs of this. He’d passed a cardiac stress test earlier in the year — a chemical stress test, granted, as he had significant arthritis in the form of chondromalacia. But he passed it.

The ambulance driver looked at me and asked if I was his daughter. (I can’t help it. Even now, after all the stress and strain of the last twenty-one-plus years, I still look considerably younger than my age.) I said, “No, I’m his wife. Now let’s get him to the hospital!”

After eighteen minutes, Michael’s vital signs returned. They still had some hope, though he did not wake up again. They could tell he was fighting very hard. He then had a second heart attack — out again for over ten minutes — and later, a third. By this time, I’d called my parents and my father was on the way from Wisconsin. (We lived in Iowa, then.) They took him to get a brain scan, to see if he still had electrical activity in his brain, and he did — in a non-standard place, but that happened for my Mom, years ago, after she had pneumonia so bad she went into an eight-day coma. I tried to have hope.

They sent me back home to take my own meds, including my blood pressure medicine. I went online (still dialup, back then) to let our friends know that Michael was dying.

Then I got the call to go back to the hospital. He’d had a fourth heart attack, and they were still doing compressions…his blood pressure fell to 30/10, and he had a pulse rate that was so low it almost wasn’t measurable. But he was trying, he was trying to live, he didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to leave me, we’d both waited so long to find each other…it didn’t seem fair, then, and it still doesn’t seem fair now.

I had to be the one to tell him that if he couldn’t come back as himself, without brain damage, which they thought was going to be likely even if he miraculously woke up from all those manual chest compressions, that he should go into eternity and that I’d try my best to never forget his love, never forget him, never forget what we had, and that I would always try to feel his love.

After thirty more minutes (by this time, my father had made it to the hospital and was there at my side), Michael died, just shy of 9 p.m.

I still see all of what happened in Technicolor (TM), and I can’t do anything other than witness it. I know how much Michael loved me. I know how much he wanted to be with me. I know he wanted to finish his stories and keep working on his other crafts (he was an artist, among his many talents). I know he wanted to hear me play in various bands (mostly concert bands, occasionally in jazz ensembles), to hear me practice, to read the music I composed, and to read the words I wrote, too. (I wrote poetry, too, and still occasionally do.)

Life has been very, very difficult for me since he died. I am not going to lie and say that it hasn’t been. I still try my hardest to hold any sort of positive thought (today, it was petting my Mom’s seventeen-year-old dog, Bratty), or to do anything that is life-affirming, honest, and real. I also do what I can to remember all of Michael — his goodness, his kindness, his serenity, his sense of humor and eternally questing mind, all of it — and not just the way he died.

It’s hard for me to believe, even now, that he is not with me in the flesh. I’d like to think if there are multiple universes (the physicists sure seem to believe it’s possible), that Michael perhaps did not die there, and that the iteration of me there with him is still blissfully happy.

Don’t get me wrong. We never made much money. Our lives were not easy, not separately, not even together. But they were much better, much richer, much more satisfying, because I knew he understood me and he knew I understood him. It was a never-ending series of wonders even on the horrid days, like when we were served with eviction papers when we still lived in San Francisco…even on the last day of his life, before he collapsed, Michael believed we’d find our way into a better situation if we only kept trying and kept our faith in ourselves and in the Goddess Herself (as both of us tended to see the Deity as female).

I’ve done what I can since he passed. I’ve kept his Atlantean Union universe alive, albeit in a different way than he’d envisioned. I’ve been fortunate there that my good friend, Gail Sanders, is a former Army Reservist (now retired), and knows things about the military I just don’t. (We have two stories available in Tales of the E4 Mafia and Tales of the E4 Mafia 2, and we hope to have a third coming out in a new anthology later this year.) So I’ve continued to write. My Elfyverse, which I wrote and conceived when Michael was alive, is still there, and I’ve written some short stories for the Fantastic Schools anthologies. I also have written more music, more poetry, made new friends, kept up with old friends, tried to be there for my family (and am still trying)…life goes on.

Is it what I want it to be? No.

Is it better than it would’ve been had Michael never entered my life? Yes.

Ultimately, what I tell myself every day is, I can only do my best. And my best means I remember the love, the caring, the honesty, the serenity, the bone-deep kindness, and yes, also the flaws (Michael absolutely adored being right, to name one, but I thought that completely understandable). My best means that I do not shirk from the difficult truths. My best means that I have to expect the best from myself, even on a bad day, even on a tough day…and my best means that I have to stay myself, my recognizable self, so that if Michael somehow could miraculously come back to life (I know he can’t), he’d recognize me instantly.

Grief is hard. I don’t enjoy it, to put it mildly. But if this is what I have to deal with due to finding the love of my life and getting a few good years with him before his sudden and unexpected passing, that’s just the price of admission.

I wish we’d had far more time. I wish Michael would’ve been able to write more stories and finish his own novels and write more in the Atlantean Union ‘verse on his own.

But I will never regret the time we did get. It was the highlight of my existence. And I honor it, all the days of my life.

Written by Barb Caffrey

July 14, 2026 at 7:38 pm

Posted in Atlantean Union, Books, Editing, Elfy, Elfyverse, friendship, heartbreaking stories, in general, love stories, Michael B. Caffrey, Persistence, Prescient observations, Remembrance, romance, Widowhood, Writing

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Can Divorce Be Beneficial? My Thoughts

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Ten years ago, I wrote a blog about divorce that was well-received, and I decided to revisit it today for two reasons. One, we’ve got another celebrity divorce that’s in the news, that being between Jelly Roll and Bunnie XO. Two, as someone who’s been both previously divorced and, after blessedly finding and marrying the love of my life, widowed, I know there is life after both things…but most especially after divorce.

As the previous blog stated:

Yes, divorce is painful. But if you and your spouse do not understand each other, have grown apart, or worst of all, he’s brought another child into this world outside of your marriage (which my second unlamented ex-husband did), you need to be gone. It’s not good for you to stay. And if you have children, your children will see all your pain, all your anger, all your dysfunction, and start to model it for themselves in their own relationships…something you truly don’t want.

Mind you, divorce is not easy, which my previous blog also discussed:

My (first) divorce was brutal. I remember eating baby food, because nothing else would stay down. I saw my soon-to-be-ex-husband parading around town with the woman who became his second wife, and I could do nothing but swallow helpless rage. (It took me some time to realize that I was enraged, mind, because at first I was so saddened by all of this, and wondered how it could have ever come to pass.) I played in a group with my soon-to-be-ex-husband and his new girlfriend, the woman who became his second wife, and it sometimes was agonizing…yet I refused to give up the comfort of music, as I knew I needed it to help me somehow get past the pain.

When I was dealing with my first divorce in particular, I had no idea what life would bring. I was still quite young, thought I’d completely failed, and was very frustrated (to say the least). It was extremely depressing to deal with, to know that I’d picked someone who could do what my first ex-husband did. And it wasn’t much better, if at all, with my second ex-husband, as it was difficult, disturbing, frustrating, and quite awful to deal with.

The light at the end of the tunnel, though, as I said in the previous blog, was not an oncoming train:

I found Michael (or, as he would no doubt want to have it, he found me). And finding him, being with him, being married to him, was worth every other pain in my life, past and present. He understood me, he was creative and funny and helped me be my best self, and I did my best to give him all the support, encouragement, laughter and love that I could, too.

Because that is what love is.

So, if you are divorcing right now, try to avoid giving in to despair. Divorce gives you the opportunity to find someone who is truly right for the you-who-is right now, rather than continuing to fight the same old battles in the same old ways.

You have to see yourself as someone who’s survived something difficult, and have come out the other side even stronger, rather than as a failure. It took me a while to figure this out. But it’s absolutely essential for your peace of mind.

I want to say this, too: You don’t have to be bad people in every respect in order to divorce. My exes had good qualities, even if they weren’t good husbands. (I said in the previous blog that they mostly were shining examples of what not to do, and I stand by that.) I wouldn’t have married them at all if I hadn’t seen the good in them. All I could do, ultimately, was say, “Go with God” and hope they’re better husbands to their second wives.

Perhaps I needed them in my life, if only to say, “I don’t need that. But this quality, I liked.” Otherwise, maybe I wouldn’t have ever been able to recognize Michael’s sterling qualities, much less give him a chance to convince me to take a chance on a third marriage.

And that third marriage is really what defined my life in many ways. I’m glad I took that chance. (“Glad” is too neutral of a word, mind. Maybe I should use “ecstatic” instead?)

In the case of Jelly Roll and his wife Bunnie XO, they had a ten-year marriage that gave them much satisfaction at times and much pain at others. It’s possible they may reconcile. It’s also possible they never speak to each other again. I hope for their sake, though, that they can be amicable and always be friendly.

I don’t need to be a personal friend of theirs to know that.

Anyway, I know being friendly post-divorce is possible for some, though it wasn’t possible for me. Michael, my late husband, and his ex-wife were the best of friends. (In fact, I’m still in contact with her today. She’s a lovely person and is remarried to a very kind-hearted man.)

Finally, remember that we’re all just human beings. Some days are better than others. Some days are worse. But we contain both the best and worst in one package, and our lives are up to us.

For good or ill, our lives are up to us.

Written by Barb Caffrey

June 18, 2026 at 12:14 am

Posted in in general, Informational Stuff, love stories, Michael B. Caffrey, Persistence, Prescient observations, Public figures, Remembrance

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Random Thoughts on Recent Sporting Events

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Folks, I am dealing with a sinus infection that is actually a secondary infection to something else. I suspect it was the flu (though I did get the flu shot, they “guessed wrong” and the strain we got wasn’t the one they’d tried to inoculate us against), but I will never be sure as I tested negative for it by the time I got into the doctor’s office. (For what it’s worth, I also tested negative for Covid.)

Anyway, while my attention span continues to be splintered, I did have a few thoughts yesterday, mostly while watching sports. During troubled times, like the times we’re going through right now in the United States, there’s a type of purity in sport that calls to me, possibly because it’s meritocratic to a large degree. (There are some games thrown off by bad officiating, mind you. That’s why I said “to a large degree” in the first place. But I digress.)

So, the first thing I watched over this weekend was a surprising Milwaukee Bucks team, with a healthier Giannis Antetokounmpo, beat the Los Angeles Lakers in Los Angeles on Friday night. The Bucks are under .500 (meaning they’ve lost more than they’ve won), mostly because Giannis was out for ten games or so. When Giannis plays, the Bucks are world-beaters. When he doesn’t, they struggle. A lot.

That said, this year’s Bucks team has shown improvement from everyone except Giannis (as Giannis is already All-World, what more can you do there but sustain your excellence? Which Giannis is doing, of course), and guard Ryan Rollins has been particularly good offensively and with assists. No one saw his huge improvement coming, though he played well in more limited playing time last year. Plus forward Kyle Kuzma has played substantially improved defense and seems much more comfortable and confident than he was last year after he was traded from the Washington Wizards for forward Khris Middleton. (There was more to the trade than these two guys, but they were the “main two” in the trade. I say this for sports’ fans completists, who will know full well that I’m not discussing that whole trade. But I digress again, and time is short.) Making this improvement even more surprising is that Kuzma has mostly played in the second unit, being the first or second guy off the bench (along with long-time Bucks excellent sixth man, Bobby Portis). So instead of starting, he’s coming in to spell others, and while he has played well also while filling in for Giannis, he really seems to have taken to the sixth (or seventh) man role. Further, Kuzma has been completely unselfish in his play, which I also think very few people would’ve expected.

A slight digression: Kuzma wasn’t selfish last year, I don’t think. But he had growing pains from being traded by a bad Washington Wizards team after having been by far the best player on that team. He only intermittently fit in with last year’s crop of Bucks players and seemed more than a bit uncomfortable. But all of that is gone now, and he’s been a standout of the Bucks season thus far.

Then, I watched the Green Bay Packers lose to the Chicago Bears after the Packers had led nearly all game. But as they’ve been doing lately, the Packers fell apart in the fourth quarter, and lost their fifth consecutive game. (This means they “backed in” to the playoffs, as other teams had to lose for them to advance due to their own problems.) This was partly because four or five of the best players on the team (besides Jordan Love, the quarterback, Malik Willis, the backup QB, and the wide receiving crew) were injured, including excellent defender Micah Parsons, who had season-ending surgery several weeks ago.

There’s talk now that Matt LaFleur, the head coach of the Packers, will be fired. I don’t think he should be. I think the team was trying to overcome a lot of unexpected injuries. I don’t think coaches should be fired when big-name players like Micah Parsons are too injured to play (and made a huge difference before his injury, granted). I also don’t think coaches should be fired when their excellent tight end, Tucker Kraft, was on the football equivalent of the disabled list in baseball (OK, they call it the “Injured List” now, but you know what I mean.) Too many front-line players were hurt, and if the Packers had trailed from the start, rallying only to fall short in the last few minutes, I think fans would be happier than what happened.

See, when it goes the other way — when you are leading the whole game, only to be caught at the end (there also was some abysmal play by the kicker, Brandon McManus; McManus is usually reliable and dependable, but he missed two field goals and worse than that, also missed an extra point and didn’t come close to making any of those three things) — fans get expectations. We can’t help it. We see how well the Packers are playing, or whatever team it is, and we start jumping to endings. “Wow, the Packers as the seventh seed are about to knock off the two-seeded Bears? Impressive!”

Then it doesn’t happen.

(Another digression: It reminds me of how I have to get my books back out there. I haven’t been up to rewriting blurbs. Some days lately, I have only been barely able to do the equivalent of trading water, though I did finish up a big edit a week and a half ago, and am working on another now.)

Finally, I got a chance to watch the men’s United States figure skating championships (oh, the miracles of modern television and streaming!), and was impressed with the top five skaters. Ilia Malinin won, of course, as was expected. (He does jumps no one else in the world can do, has excellent footwork and spins also, and basically is the best figure skater in the world.) Andrew Torgashev came in second (repeating his finish from last year’s nationals), Maxim Naumov third, Jacob Sanchez fourth, and Tomoki Hiwatashi came in fifth. All four of these men skated very well, though not perfectly (Sanchez probably came closest to perfection in his program, followed by Torgashev). Naumov was particularly impressive as he lost his parents (who were also his figure skating coaches) last year in the plane crash with the U.S. Army helicopter (it was unfortunately the helicopter operator’s fault, which doesn’t help anyone concerned). He was the sentimental favorite for an Olympic spot partly due to that, and partly due to the fact that he’s been on the cusp of figure skating excellence for at least four or five years.

Still, there were other great stories. Torgashev had two very fine performances in a row in his short and long programs and brought the crowd to its feet. Jacob Sanchez, only eighteen years of age, skated the program of his life and was visibly overjoyed at his performance, also earning a standing ovation. Takahashi finished only two points behind Sanchez in a strong fifth place, and both he and Sanchez were about two points behind Naumov’s third-place finish. (Seriously, if skating were more like a horse race, these three would’ve led to a photo finish or the equivalent. These guys did it different ways, but all skated the best they possibly could under the circumstances in my opinion.)

The lone disappointment, for me at least, was the performance of popular figure skater Jason Brown. Brown has the best overall skating skills in the world due to his phenomenal spins, excellent footwork, good, deep edges to his skating, and usually has competent-to-better jumps that look fantastic because of his overall approach to the sport.

But Saturday night wasn’t his night. He “popped” one jump (something happens when skaters jump and the body won’t let them rotate; that’s the best way I can explain this), turning a triple into a single. He nearly fell three times and did fall a fourth. (Granted, he did it balletically and if anyone can fall beautifully, it’s Jason Brown.) Most of his triple jumps were underrotated to my eye (and, unfortunately for him, also to the figure skating judges in the arena from what I could tell), though he did do a few good combo jumps with a triple and a double (and may have done one triple-triple). He had a good attitude about his skate, and didn’t show anything other than calmness and maturity, something I know I found very hard to do when I was competing in music contests (yes, even when I was in my early thirties, as Jason Brown now is). I can only applaud Brown for taking it in stride, as he’s had a great career in the sport and probably wanted to go out on a high note (as it’s generally assumed that this will be his last competitive year in figure skating), as did everyone who’s watched him over the years.

Now it’s up to the United States Olympic Committee (USOC) to pick the teams to represent the United States. Because Brown has been so reliable, there is thought he’d be placed on the team despite his performance yesterday evening as the third skater behind Malinin (a no-brainer) and Torgashev (second year in a row as silver medalist, also a no-brainer). But if it were up to me, Naumov makes the team instead of Brown, and both Sanchez and Hiwatashi go as first and second alternates, taken to Milan to observe and be ready in case anyone gets injured. Only after those five men are placed should Jason Brown be given any consideration, even with his long years in the sport and his overall popularity, mostly because figure skating is a sport where stars are often fleeting. For all I know, this could be Sanchez’s only chance despite his young age. Hiwatashi skated so well (as I said, both he and Sanchez were right up there with Naumov and all three had similar scores, with Naumov edging them both out — sorry about the pun there), he also deserves to go as an alternate.

Mind you, I don’t like having to type out those words because Jason Brown is a friendly, honest, kind-hearted person and has been a particularly distinctive and elegant skater for probably the last fifteen years if not a bit more. He broke onto the scene relatively early, and he’s stayed relevant now into his thirty-first year of life, which is almost unheard of in men’s skating these days due to the rigors of all those triple jumps (and, if you’re Malinin or the others I discussed in the top five, at least one quad jump, though Malinin has been known to have up to seven or so quads in his program). Those jumps are hard on the back, harder still on the knees, and probably are harder every year you skate due to past injuries and such.

So, as an “older performer” myself (though I am, ahem, a bit older than Brown’s thirty-one), I don’t like having to say stuff like this. I love Brown’s skating and wish he’d had the performance of his life, so he could go out on a high note as he deserved.

But sometimes, as I’ve said before, we don’t get what we want. We have to be resilient, which Brown has been his entire career, and find ways to be content with our performances even if they don’t turn out the way we want. (At least we got up there and tried. That’s more than most people can do right there.)

What I think should be done with Jason Brown is something akin to what the Dodgers did with Clayton Kershaw in the All-Star game. Kershaw wasn’t pitching his best anymore, but was a great pitcher, and will be elected to the baseball Hall of Fame in his first year of eligibility. He deserved to go to the game out of longevity. He came in and pitched at most one inning (it might’ve been less), and the crowd was able to give Kershaw one final ovation.

I don’t know how you do that in figure skating. (I’m a long-term fan, but this situation hasn’t come up before, as best I can tell.) Brown deserves something similar, but how does it happen without slighting Naumov, Sanchez, and Hiwatashi, who all easily out-skated Brown last night? (As did a few others, as Brown finished up in eighth place.)

They only have so many spots. I know that. And the USOC can do one of four things:

  1. Reward Jason Brown for his longevity and give him the chance to win a team medal.
  2. Give Sanchez the third spot as he’s eighteen, an up-and-comer, and that will give him needed experience for his next Olympic try (providing he stays healthy) in 2030.
  3. Give Hiwatashi the third spot due to his overall improvement, his long record of international competitions and overall competitiveness. Or…
  4. Just name the top three finishers, Malinin, Torgashev, and Naumov, with Sanchez and Hiwatashi being alternates, as I said in the first place. (These last two probably will get sent to the Four Continents championship, which is often what the runners-up to the Olympic team get assigned to…but there’s nothing wrong with that.)

Those are my thoughts. This blog went on a little longer than I’d expected, but I hope that readers enjoyed it anyway…may you have a great week, full of happiness and kindness and resilience, and don’t let the bastards grind you down. (Whoever the bastards may be.)

Written by Barb Caffrey

January 11, 2026 at 8:06 am

Posted in Green Bay Packers, Persistence, Sports figures

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Why My Novels Aren’t Currently Available…and What I Plan to Do About It (Plus an Update about the Housing Search)

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Folks, I had a few folks asking me lately, “Barb, what happened to your novels? Where are they? Why can’t I find them?”

The answer is, my former publisher, Twilight Times Books (TTB), has released the novels back to me. That means it is now up to me to republish them, independently. I have negotiated for the original covers (as I liked them) and it looks like I will have access to those. I’ll write some sort of forward and new afterword, I’m sure, too…but with everything else still in major flux, I just haven’t had the concentration I need to get everything in train.

My former publisher, Lida Quillen of TTB, has been great. I have the formatted files she used (a major help), along with other files for the covers, and now it’s just a matter of me getting a few hours of good-to-excellent concentration (so I can concentrate on writing a forward and an afterword and add that to the files, hoping I don’t manage to screw up the formatting in so doing) to get them back out there and available again.

So, for the moment, my three novels AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE (aka Elfy Book 1), A LITTLE ELFY IN BIG TROUBLE (aka Elfy Book 2), and CHANGING FACES (a gender-bending spiritual romance that’s been called “Freaky Friday on Acid” that has nothing whatsoever to do with the Elfy books) are unavailable.

I hope to have them back up and available by December 15, 2025. I’m saying this now, publicly, openly, just so you know I am working on it, and that I will find a way to get it done. (Without Lida’s helpfulness in getting me the files and putting me in touch with the cover artists, I wouldn’t have known what to do. I appreciate her willingness to help, as she didn’t have to do anything of the sort.)

While I have many short stories out there and still have the two first stories about Joey Maverick and the very first one about Peter Welmsley available (all three listed as co-written by Michael, my late husband, as these were originally his characters and much of what I had was stuff I’d expanded out a little bit), it is odd not to have my three novels available to purchase.

That will be rectified soon, no matter what, because it’s important that these novels be put back out there for my own peace of mind. I worked hard on these books, I believe they have worth and value, and it is imperative I get them back out there.

By the way, for those of you asking for a moving update…I’m in a holding pattern. I am on quite a few waiting lists for apartments, but there seems to be very little movement in the housing market right now, possibly because of the uncertainty regarding the economy. And the one day I did get a solid tip about an apartment, I wasn’t able to follow through with it due to health reasons. (It was only going to be shown for one day for two hours. I could not get there at that time. I felt bad I couldn’t get there.)

My stuff is mostly in storage and has been for a bit under three months. It’s safe, as the place I picked is reliable, and there are cameras there. The lock they gave me is hard for me to operate (I have tendinitis in both hands and wrists), so when I go there I have to make sure I have someone else with me to open and close the gate (when I went there once by myself, I ended up having to call my best friend’s husband to ask for help as he was one of the folks who helped me get stuff into storage in the first place). It’s like adding an extra obstacle to a course already full of them.

But I persevere, and do the best I can, and hope for better days ahead. Not just for me, either…for everyone I know, too, as life seems quite difficult for just about everyone right now.

Written by Barb Caffrey

November 23, 2025 at 3:57 am

Posted in Elfy, Elfyverse, in general, Joey Maverick, Persistence, Writing

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A Quick Update

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Hey, everyone. Sorry it’s taken me a while to get up a new blog, but I’ve been quite vexed with the housing search. When I was younger — at my first undergraduate school — it took about a month to find a place when nearly everything else was rented. But this search has gone way beyond that, especially as I started it in August…it’s well over three months, and I have yet to find a place to live that I can afford.

That said, I’ve also been battling my usual fall maladies of chronic sinus infections, general malaise, fibromyalgia flares/back problems, and of course the chronic depression I deal with daily. Being able to create helps me fight against all of that. But being in this situation works against being creative, as most of my energy is going toward either survival or finding a new place.

That said, for the moment I am still safe and staying with a family member. Later this month, if I still do not have a place, though, I’m not sure what will happen as the apartment complex here isn’t happy that I’ve been here so long without paying any rent to them. So this is the last month I can do that, though it may be possible for me to “reset the clock” by going to a hotel for a day or two. (Any longer than that, I can’t afford.)

As far as writing goes, I’ve been mostly stalled for all the reasons I gave above. As far as editing goes, I’m finally almost done with a lengthy edit — quite intense, lots of comments to make, and because it’s the last in a series, I have to make sure everything stays in good order. (This means I look stuff up. Nothing wrong with that. But any writer or editor worth anything will tell you what I’m saying right now: the work goes far more slowly if you’re having to do lots of cross-checks with previous books.) I believe I’ve done that, and it’s now just down to the final few things before it goes off to my client.

I am doing my best, in other words. Sometimes I get quite frustrated. (Actually, most of the time.) This is not what I’d hoped for, and not what my father wanted for me, and definitely not what anyone who knows me now and is still alive (including my family) wants either. Yet it’s where I am, and all I can do is my best with the circumstances I’ve got and go from there.

Tomorrow is Veteran’s Day in the US, as probably most of you know. My father was a Navy veteran, as was my late husband, Michael. I have cousins who’ve served, and many friends, along with an ex-husband (he was in the Army, back in the day). I respect people greatly who have served their country, and I appreciate what they’ve done to make this country a better place.

There’s still lots of upheaval going on around me because of governmental issues and strains, too. Everything seems to be in flux, not just me and my living situation.

I wonder sometimes if I am in the wrong place, doing the wrong things, and that I am so far off the track meant for my life (which was to be a college music teacher and performer before my poor health and finances got in the way), there’s no way for me to find my way back.

That said, I’ve done what I thought was best. I’ve helped people as I’m able and will continue to do that as long as I live. I’ve taught myself editing, and am good at it. I write, and always will write, whatever suits me: nonfiction, poetry, fiction, you name it, I can write it and probably have. I’ve used my musical talents in ways I hadn’t expected, but they have been used…and if my health gets any better, perhaps I’ll be able to use them again. (I’d still like to visit France and/or Spain someday, as that’s where classical alto saxophonists are most appreciated.)

So, while I’m battling depression, as I said before, I am still alive. So long as I’m alive, there’s at least some hope for better. I am looking for that hope, while also doing what I can to find my own, independent place to live. (It’s easier to help others when you have a place that’s truly yours where you can retreat to, as needed. A sanctum santorum, in other words. I haven’t had that now in any way, shape, or form for over three months.)

I battle the thought that I’ve failed (all of my novels right now need to be republished, as the rights have reverted back to me and are no longer for sale; unfortunately that’s on the back burner unless/until I can find a place of my own). I battle the thought that Michael might be unhappy with me (though really, I can’t see why he would be; he always thought I was too hard on myself, and this is probably just another of those times). I battle the thought that my maturity and experience may not matter in a world filled with so much automation and the flirtations with AI. I also battle my health, as anyone who’s spent any time here knows…but all I can do is my best.

This is my mantra right now: All I can do is my best.

Maybe that’s how it is always for everyone. But this sense of it being crisis city all the time is hard to live with, and I hope it’ll be alleviated soon. (No disrespect to my family member who took me in, either. That was not easy and I appreciate it greatly. It’s just that I am frustrated with this…and really do need a sanctum santorum of my own for creative reasons.)

So, that’s the update, such as it is.

How are you all doing? (Hopefully better than I am, but at least if you’re alive and kicking, that counts.) Do let me know, if you’re able…I would appreciate it greatly.

Written by Barb Caffrey

November 10, 2025 at 11:44 am

Posted in Editing, in general, Michael B. Caffrey, Music, Persistence, Writing

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No Housing News Yet…But Milwaukee Brewers Continuing to Thrive

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Folks, I knew I owed you all some sort of update regarding my housing situation. I wish I had a better one. I’m still looking for a place and remain on quite a few waiting lists. I am moving up on those lists, but not quickly enough.

I’m still staying with a relative. This is not an easy situation for either one of us. I appreciate the help, though I wish I didn’t need it, and every day is a struggle.

One of the few bright spots I’ve had to consider has been the overall play of the 2025 version of the Milwaukee Brewers. Last year, in the MLB playoffs, the Brewers were eliminated in the first round at the very last minute by the New York Mets (a late homer by Pete Alonso, a slugging first baseman/superstar, off our star closer, Devin Williams, was what caused the Brewers to be eliminated). So this year, in order to have a better playoff chance, the team set a new record for wins with 97 and had the best overall record in the entirety of MLB. This guaranteed the Brewers would have more home games than road games in the playoffs, and also guaranteed a first-round bye so the team could heal up a little.

What’s been so outstanding about the play of the 2025 Brewers is how everyone called to help has stepped up. There was an outfielder called up during the summer, Steward Berroa, who made a great highlight-reel catch in centerfield to save one game, and he was only up a few days with the Brewers. Other standouts were the pitching of Chad Patrick, shuttling back and forth from Triple-A to the big-league club, the pitching of Logan Henderson (who showed without a doubt that he’s a big-leaguer, but was not able to stick in the bigs due to too many people ahead of him at the position), the fact that good players like Blake Perkins and Robert Gasser were able to heal from injuries and come back to contribute…no matter what, the Brewers found a way to win.

And they even turned one odd situation into an advantage, in that pitcher Aaron Civale did not want to be a reliever even on a team that could well win the World Series. He felt he would not make enough money next year if he became a reliever, so the Brewers had to find a trade partner in a hurry. They did. The Chicago White Sox had a struggling first baseman named Andrew Vaughn, who they’d sent to Triple-A over his lack of productivity at the plate. The Brewers swapped Civale for Vaughn, and that was one of the turning points for the Brewers as Vaughn (after an injury to starting first baseman Rhys Hoskins) stepped up in a big way for the Brewers and became not just a star with the team, but a fan favorite.

There’s no quit in the 2025 Brewers. They just keep going. They’re relentless. Their manager, Pat Murphy, has described them as “woodpeckers,” which seems accurate as they just keep pecking away. They are a resilient and determined team, they get along well with each other (always a plus), and they’ve just found a way to keep getting better all season long.

Right now, they are preparing for Game 4 against the Chicago Cubs in Chicago. The Brewers lead this series, two games to one. (The Brew Crew lost last night to Chicago, 4-3.) And they’ll have their very best starting pitcher, their ace, Freddy Peralta, pitching tonight.

No major reporter for MLB picked the Brewers to be as good as they turned out to be. (Most had the Brewers finishing in fourth place, and not even winning more games than they lost. They were quite wrong.) Even now, the Brewers are not expected to beat teams they handily beat all season long if they continue in the playoffs (I’m looking squarely at you, Los Angeles Dodgers), and they’re certainly not expected by the major media outlets to be the National League’s entrant in the World Series.

I hope they will be, though. I like this team a lot. It reminds me of my favorite-ever team, the 1982 Brewers (then in the American League), which was another team that just did not quit and kept going no matter what. The ’82 team is the only one that has ever reached the World Series, and it did not win (though it did take seven games to eliminate the Brewers and end their season without the WS win). It’s about time a new Brewers team gets a chance to win a World Series…and the 2025 team is in an excellent position to do just that, providing they can get by the Cubs and whoever else they might have to play in the next round (the NL Championship Series, or NLCS) — right now, it would appear that team is likely to be the Dodgers, but it could still be the Phillies if the Phillies scramble and are able to win three games in a row (they won one game last night; two to go).

This team, like the ’82 Brewers, gives me hope that if you try hard enough, and you maximize your talents, and if you get some lucky breaks, you can still do very well for yourself. (The Brewers had a fourteen-game winning streak after an eleven-game winning streak earlier, and an eight-game winning streak as well. To win fourteen games in a row meant there were some good breaks happening; that’s when the phrases “Uecker Magic” to commemorate late baseball announcer and friend of the Brewers team Bob Uecker, and “Brewers Magic/Milwaukee Magic” were coined.) Mind you, that doesn’t mean you can take your eye off the ball. You have to keep doing your best, even when it seems hopeless, even when it seems like there’s no way you can win…you can only lose if you give up inside your head, and I refuse to do that.

So, I will cheer on my Brewers tonight as they take on the Cubs in Chicago. I’ll also keep trying to find a good place to live, one that I can afford, that has heat in the winter and air in the summer, in order to improve my overall physical health and give me the best chance to write, edit, and compose music.

Written by Barb Caffrey

October 9, 2025 at 1:42 pm

Posted in baseball, Brewers pitchers, Brewers trades, Milwaukee Brewers baseball club, Persistence, Prescient observations, Public figures, Writing

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21 Years (Yes, 21) Without Michael

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Folks, about a week ago, I observed the title milestone, one I wish I’d never have had to face.

There’s this weird thing about numbers, you see. They can really freak you out. I remember September 21, 2011, as that was the seventh year since Michael died. Supposedly, all the cells in your body are replaced within seven years. I didn’t like that milestone either.

Others I haven’t liked included in that same year the day I turned a day older than Michael was when he died (no, I’m not going to mention which day) and of course the day my best friend, Jeff Wilson, died in November.

So, the sad milestones (“sadaversaries” in my parlance, a contraction of sad and anniversaries) have kept piling up. Ten years without Michael on September 21, 2014. Twenty years without him, last year. And twenty-one years without him this year…it’s something we do, as human beings, to both mark the passage of time and the people who shaped us and meant the most to us. It must not be too surprising that I always know exactly how long it’s been without my beloved husband. But it’s still difficult, challenging, and frustrating.

The reason twenty-one years is significant has to do with something I once heard about learning music and other skills. If you have the talent and you put in the work, it supposedly takes twenty-one years to be adept in any given discipline.

How does that apply, though? Does that mean I’m adept at grieving now?

I don’t know. I wish I did.

There’s a lot of people I miss in this life. My grandma. My father. My aunt Laurice and uncle Carl. Jeff Wilson. Those are all huge losses, and I will remember them all until the end of my life.

But nothing and no one has ever been more important to me than my late husband. Michael understood me and I understood him. We fit in every possible way, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically. We had amazing, wide-ranging conversations, we were both creative (in addition to his writing, he was a great cook and an excellent artist), we both wanted most of the same things — stability, honesty, a deep and abiding commitment to one another, and to be together as long as we possibly could.

We did get almost three years from the time I met him, and two years, two months, and twenty-eight days of marriage. After so much loss, so much sadness, it seemed absolutely miraculous to meet Michael, and I know he felt the same way about me.

I’m still struggling with trying to find a new place to live. I’m also struggling with many other things at the moment, none of them particularly pleasant. But it does help me to know that Michael always believed in me, and he thought no matter how long it took, I would always find a way through any problem.

In short, I’d always survive.

When he was alive, of course, it would’ve been “survive and thrive.” But right now, survival is what I need to cling to, along with the belief that I can, will, and must get out of the current situation and into a better one.

Michael would tell me, if he could, that I have not failed. Not as a writer, as a musician, as a scholar, as a wife, or even as a widow. That I have not failed. So long as I keep trying, so long as there’s even a breath remaining in my body, I have not failed.

I’m trying to keep that thought in the top of my mind, these days, as the struggle continues.

Written by Barb Caffrey

September 27, 2025 at 10:14 pm

Posted in Faith, heartbreaking stories, in general, Michael B. Caffrey, Persistence, Prescient observations, Remembrance, Widowhood, Writing

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Father’s Day Has Come and Gone (and I Have Thoughts)

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Folks, yesterday was the second Father’s Day I’ve observed since my Dad died. It wasn’t an easy day in a lot of senses, mostly because the weather has been crappy in addition to observing this day…the air quality here has been downright awful, not just for asthmatics like me, but for everyone due to the Canadian wildfire smoke.

Anyway, Dad and I had a complicated history and relationship. He helped me many times, which I appreciated, but did not want any appreciation for this. (“You’re my daughter,” he’d say firmly. “What am I supposed to do?”) We talked about a lot of sports, we also talked about current events, and while we didn’t always agree on everything, Dad was a good conversationalist and enjoyed verbal sparring to a degree.

I miss him.

He was cantankerous. He delighted in being that way. He felt men should be strong, capable, and caring…but he also really didn’t like a lot of what he was seeing in contemporary society.

For example, to him, Giannis Antetokounmpo should’ve married his wife a lot sooner. They had several children before they married. I think the reason for them not getting married before having the kids is because life as an international superstar is not easy. Scheduling something as big as a wedding must be a difficult endeavor for someone like Giannis.

I do think Dad would be happy that Giannis married at long last (as this happened after Dad’s passing). Giannis always was true to his wife, and he’s been true to his kids, and I think Giannis’s own father would’ve been proud of him whether Giannis ever legally married his wife or not.

The difference, though, is in how Dad, being of an older generation, viewed marriage. He truly believed you should not have kids before marriage. (He knew people had sex before marriage and had for thousands of years, regardless of what that partnership ritual was called.) He thought it a difficult and problematic thing for the children because of things he saw in childhood, no doubt.

See, my father lost his mother when he was just eleven years old. His father was at the time a long-distance trucker, I think…and while other relatives would’ve taken in Dad and his three siblings, they wouldn’t take all four of them. So, my grandfather Edward made the difficult decision to put all four of them in the local orphanage as that was the only way they’d see each other every day. (Dad said it wasn’t easy, either. His two sisters were in the girls’ wing, while he and his brother Richard were in the boys’ wing.)

I don’t know all the people Dad met in the orphanage, much less the lessons he learned there. I do know he was there, as were his sibs, and it marked him for the rest of his life.

Mind you, he was not bitter over it. He understood his father’s reasoning and was glad to be able to see his sibs every day (even if it wasn’t easy to see his sisters).

But his life was upended very early, which is one reason he was a huge supporter of places like the Boys Home and such. He’d been there. He knew that everyone should have as many opportunities as possible.

Dad did his best to make things as stable as they could be despite my parents’ marriage always being difficult. (Loving, but difficult, is the best I’ve got to describe it.) Even after my parents divorced, it was clear that we’d always have a home with him (and also with Mom). This was a good thing, because several times in my life, I needed to stay with Dad in order to sort out things as best I could.

While I’m glad I was with him the last several years until his body just gave out, I wish I could’ve had the big music career everyone had expected of me rather than the series of difficulties and distresses I endured otherwise.

Mind, I will never regret studying music. I continue to compose music when it comes to me, and it remains a big part of my life even though I haven’t been able to play my saxophone, clarinet, or oboe in almost two years.

I still believe that if my health ever improves, because of the talents I possess musically, I might do well overseas in France or Spain. They love classical saxophonists there, and the culture there has a richness that I would love to experience for myself.

Anyway, Dad served in the Navy, and he was stationed in Japan for a year or two (he was a radio technician). Because of this, he was sympathetic to my wish to go overseas and learn whatever there was, while experiencing whatever there was…even as he knew my health has never been robust, and that my dreams may stay just that.

Wisps in the ether.

Dad pivoted several times in his life when he needed to do so, even though he never liked it. (I don’t blame him.) He was an excellent postal carrier. (That’s how he always described it. “Mailman” didn’t seem like nearly enough.) He worked as a cashier and grocery stocker at one point (which I found out after I’d gotten a job as a cashier and stocker myself). He played the drums and spent over ten years in the Racine Municipal Band (starting before they changed the name to the current Racine Concert Band), mostly playing the bass drum. He delivered flowers and newspapers, too.

Dad also didn’t like most modern conveniences whatsoever. He disdained microwaves (though he didn’t mind me using it myself, as I have one), did his dishes by hand, and until the last few years of his life, used a push mower rather than a gas-powered one. He delighted in his orange tiger lilies, enjoyed watching nature — the squirrels, birds, bunny rabbits, etc., were endlessly fascinating to him.

Most of all, he enjoyed being in his own home, where he could make any food he wanted any time he wanted. The simple pleasures, he often said, were the best.

While many things in this world are deeply upsetting, we have to hold on to the positive things. The positive memories, too. We have to know what we stand for, and what ethical purpose we’re here to serve.

That’s what I learned from my father, among other things.

So, when I see bunny rabbits rooting in the yard and they look like they’re about to run away, I talk to them in a gentle voice. (Most of the time, they don’t run away if you’re kind and obviously mean them no harm.) When I see birds nesting in nearby trees, I wish them well raising their chicks. When I see the squirrels on the nearby fence, I laugh at some of their comical actions.

Life is very difficult. It can be frustrating, upsetting, and a hundred other things. But it also can be wonderful with the right people around you, and with a willingness to believe that kindness still matters.

That, too, I learned from my father, though he probably would be astonished to know that if he were still here.

At any rate, I wish everyone well and hope for a safe, peaceful, and enjoyable week ahead. (Drop me a note in the comments, if you’d like. I always enjoy hearing from my readers.)

P.S. For those who’ve asked — the health issues continue. It’s not just the bad air quality we’ve had off and on. I still have that rash and will be seeing the dermatologist again later this week. (Let’s hope that something can be done. At this point, I’m wondering if there’s an underlying infection.)

Written by Barb Caffrey

June 9, 2025 at 3:03 am

Posted in in general, Inspirational stuff, Persistence, Prescient observations, Remembrance, Writing

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Bob Uecker, Voice of the Milwaukee Brewers, Has Died

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I woke up today to the news that my childhood hero Bob Uecker, long-time voice of the Milwaukee Brewers, has died. He was 90.

While that’s a good, long life, Uecker was what I’d call an “American original.” He was a great broadcaster, yes, but also was an actor, a comedian, wrote two books (including Catcher in the Wry), a philanthropist, and was one of the more unforgettable people I’d ever watched, read about, or listened to during the course of my lifetime.

When I was very young, I listened to Uecker on the radio broadcasts with Merle Harmon. (Yes, that goes back a ways, doesn’t it?) Harmon was the play-by-play guy back then, while Uecker was the color man. At one point, Harmon felt Uecker was ready to start doing innings by himself, so the story Uecker often told was that Harmon simply didn’t show up one half-inning. Uecker had to do the game by himself. Harmon eventually did come back and finish the game, and they had a few more good years as radio partners before other announcers came in.

By that point, Uecker was the top dog. Everyone he mentored, whether it was Pat Hughes, Corey Provus, or current announcers Jeff Levering, Lane Grindle, and Josh Mauer, later became far better broadcasters with what assuredly seemed like more knowledge of the world around them.

There have been many tributes already, from former MLB commissioner Bud Selig; former Brewers players Brent Suter (now a pitcher for the Cincinnati Reds) and Ryan Braun; current announcers Grindle and Levering; current players Brandon Woodruff and Christian Yelich; current manager Pat Murphy; and finally, former manager Craig Counsell. Other announcers, both on TV and radio, have chimed in, along with some of the actors Uecker used to work with (Tracy Tofte worked with Uecker on the sitcom “Mr. Belvedere,” and visited Ueck three weeks ago). Fans went out to American Family Field (formerly known as Miller Park) and left cans of Miller Lite at the base of Ueck’s statue outside the stadium in memory of Ueck’s famous commercials for Miller Lite years ago. (They also left flowers, memories, and at least one Brewers baseball cap.)

All I can tell you is, Uecker was the announcer for the Brewers when I was young, as I grew up, and as I matured into the person I am today. He was funny, articulate, often charming, sometimes scathing, but always, always interesting. He made people laugh, even on the worst days of their lives. He charmed iconic TV host Johnny Carson so much that Carson gave Ueck the nickname “Mr. Baseball,” first ironically, then wholeheartedly. (Carson also had Ueck back over one hundred times on his show, including during the last week Carson hosted.)

I think, though, the reason I liked Uecker so much was because he was from Milwaukee. He didn’t lord it over anyone. He enjoyed people and liked cheering them up. He was frank, unassuming, and down-to-earth, and he absolutely loved his job as Voice of the Brewers.

His playing career wasn’t great; he hit .200, was known more for his defense than his offense, and retired at age thirty-three. He tried scouting but wasn’t great at it. Then he reinvented himself as an announcer, became a very good one, then a great one. Did stand-up comedy, charmed Carson (as previously mentioned), acted in Major League (my favorite baseball film ever) and of course on “Mr. Belvedere.” It seemed like anything Ueck turned his hand to, he succeeded.

But Uecker was human, and sometimes awful things happened to him. He had pancreatic cancer, which he fought, that eventually went into remission. He’d had open-heart surgery. He nearly died from a bite from a brown recluse, too. But worst of all, two of his children predeceased him: one because of San Joaquin Valley Fever, the other because of ALS. He leaves behind a wife, kids, grandchildren, the entirety of “Brewers Nation,” and many others who knew of his life, work, and charitable concerns.

In short, Bob Uecker was almost like a family member in a way, even though he didn’t know me from Eve. He was the best-known exponent of Wisconsin in general and Milwaukee in particular, showcasing the charm and humor and razor-sharp intelligence most of us who live here wish we had.

Ueck was the “Voice of Summer” to many — not just me — and he’ll be greatly missed.

Written by Barb Caffrey

January 17, 2025 at 12:18 am

Posted in baseball, friendship, heartbreaking stories, Informational Stuff, Milwaukee Brewers baseball club, Persistence, Prescient observations, Public figures, Remembrance, Sports figures

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