The Haasienda on Shroyer…

This new play of mine, produced by Kettering Health Productions seems to be taking forever and should, in my opinion, be nearing intermission. However, the rehearsal process has barely gotten underway. Some days, I feel as though I’m still involved in the creative process. Better yet, I can’t determine if I’m the writer, the director, the actor, or an audience member. Regardless, it’s a most fascinating process from which I am learning a great deal.

JULY 2025

I went into the hospital for one item on my back and it was discovered that I had cancer on my front. I had not even auditioned for the role on my back.

AUGUST 2025

A character parade of meeting my lead oncologist, my reconstructive surgeon, the nurse practitioner for my reconstructive surgeon who has more stage time with me than the actual surgeon, and my new PCP, to which family doctors are now referred; kind of like the transition of “librettist” to “book writer.”

SEPTEMBER 22, 2025

The morning of my surgery, the nurses, or rather the stage managers, were impressed that my blood pressure was 121/72. “No one generally has anything under 140!” For me, it was nothing more than going into Great Clips for a trim.

The tumor was removed, as well as three malignant lymph nodes taken from both armpits.

I was home by 5 PM, felt good enough to walk next door to the high school to watch the choir sing three songs in a departmental concert, and returned home just before my Chinese delivery arrived.

The remainder of the week was fine with minimal discomfort. In fact, I never took that first Tylenol.

SEPTEMBER 29, 2025

I returned to the Kettering Cancer rehearsal center for my postop rehearsal. The nurse practitioner said everything looked great and that I was healing nicely.

My oncologist explained that due to the malignant lymph nodes, the others were questionable and will be removed. She also indicated that there were some flags that caused her to believe there might be more cancer, elsewhere. She said the tumor was very aggressive and she ordered a PET scan.

TODAY: OCTOBER 3, 2025

This coming week, I meet an additional directors: a medical oncologist, my radiation oncologist, and I have a scheduled phone rehearsal with my PCP, whom I already adore.

The 14th, 15th, and 17th will be more rehearsals with my directors – oncologist, nurse practitioner, and a radiation consultation. October 21st will be my PET Scan (or is that my costume fitting?) and the following afternoon will be my reconstructive surgery (makeup?)

I am still learning my lines in this very new play, but when I call, “line!,” I feel very secure in knowing that someone is there to assist. The Directing Team, more commonly known in the medical world as my oncology team and my PCP is absolutely outstanding.

KETTERING HEALTH THEATRE PRODUCTIONS: I’ve had phenomenally wonderful experiences with each rehearsal/appointment, and throughout the multiple telephone conversations. I just wish I could actually have several of my favorite local theatre professionals involved in this production: Joe Deer, Megan Wean Sears, Greg Hellems, Terry Stump, Mike Cordonnier! Their process has all the familiar and comfortable aspects of a theatre production, and it’s so reassuring and confidence-building.

It has been an interesting week with a health crisis.

I was on the deck, Sunday or Monday, and I thought I felt a bug bite. Tuesday evening, I noticed a welt on back’s lower right side and applied some ointment. Wednesday evening the welt was elongated and had a small puncture would. I continued to apply triple antibiotic ointment to the area.

Friday morning, I was a in great pain and decided to head to the Kettering Health Urgent Care at Town & Country, which is one of the best. I returned from downtown and decided to take a nap… it became a full sleep.

I went to Kettering Health Urgent Care in the afternoon, and as always, I had the best care and hospitality for which one could hope. I love this facility and the people in it.

The welt, or raised area, is 14-cenimeters (5.5 inches) long. I turned on my stomach so they could drain as much of the infection as possible, and they also took a culture, The draining, which was the Nurse Practitioner (the best I have experienced) pressing it out, was excruciatingly painful, and she continually apologized and would give me breaks. I appreciatively reminded her she was just doing her job.

She could not get the entire abscess drained and gave me two options: 1) go to the ER for it to be opened up and fully drained, or 2) she could attempt more draining, give me a shot, and two prescriptions. I opted for No. 2 simply because I had five dogs at home that had not pottied since 7:30 AM. They also put a special patch over the area to assist with draining. I did as instructed and placed several hot compresses over the patch. I did notice the swelling had reduced, as had the pain. 

I am to return to Kettering Health Urgent Care tomorrow, Monday, for them to re-examine the abscess and to determine whether to continue the treatment or to proceed to Kettering Hospital. 

I entered the Kettering Health Urgent Care at 2:10 PM, went across the street to Kroger for my prescription, and was stepping onto the No. 17 Northbound at 3:35 PM. Perfect!

I slept comfortably and this morning, I am not in the horrible discomfort I had known for several days. 

Now, I am not in need, nor will I tolerate any arm-chair commentary unless you have a qualified medical degree. I do not care to read, “I had something similar, and it was…”  I honestly do not give a shit. And none of the “you should try…”  Really? These types of comments are unnecessary, sophomoric, and might receive an “Unfriend” from social media.

The Miami Valley High School Theatre Awards on Thursday evening, last night, kept my spirits buoyant, but this morning’s emotional safety-net unfastened itself, again, and the hurt raged through my soul.

At first, each day was an anniversary. Then, it became weeks, and now, months. Perhaps after the first year’s anniversary it will become an annual reminder, but still always remaining a many-times a day reminder.

For over twelve years, my neighbor, Bryan Suddith, has invited me to story Slams. I followed his posts with interest but prior to Covid, I was finishing up parenthood years and my personal interest was in Dayton Black Box Improv of which I was a fairly regular visitor.

Finally, after the Mother’s illness and death in 2019, followed by the years of quarantine, starting at Dayton Live, life and scheduling allowed me an evening to investigate Dayton Story Slam.

It. Was. Terrific.

I loved the improv, but this felt like home, or as they say, “my people.”

Seven or eight individuals had five minutes in which to tell their story with the given theme, “chemistry.”

I listened to people telling stories.

Stories.

Life adventures.

True life adventure stories.

Some stories were funny. Some stories were personal. Some stories were emotional. But, they were stories. The writer in me was bursting. I felt connected to these complete strangers.

Wednesday, June 25th at the Brightside of Dayton, Dayton Story Slam will hold its Grand Slam. It’s on my calendar.

Facebook: Dayton Story Slam.

Our biological father, Danny Lee Jolliff (1942-1984) was the second child born to William Montgomery Jolliff (1916-1981) and Rosemary Richardson Jolliff (1924-2007). Danny had an older sister, Linda Lou Jolliff (1940-1950), and a younger brother, Garry Dean Jolliff (1944-2002).

All three of the Jolliff children experienced tragedies. Linda and Danny each sustained fatal injuries, whereas Garry endured a lengthy journey of paralysis beginning with wounds sustained while serving in Vietnam.

Elwood, Indiana; June 5, 1950

Ten-year-old Linda stepped outside the general store on 22nd Street, carrying a newly purchased coloring book and a box of crayons that she would be taking to a friend‘s birthday party. She grabbed her bicycle and began walking across the railroad tracks next to the general store. As she stepped onto the first rail, her foot slipped and became wedged between two close wooden ties.

Several boys and the storekeeper heard screaming and ran to the window. One of the boys was Darrell McQuitty, a future Indiana All-Star basketball player and coach/educator with Elwood city schools. The bystanders immediately heard the blaring whistle of an oncoming train. It was too late for any of them to react. They witnessed the young girl looking up at the oncoming locomotive, shaking her head and mouthing the word, “no.“

My siblings and I heard the accounts of Linda’s tragic death when we were younger. The past thirty years, or so, we’ve seldom mentioned this episode. However, yesterday afternoon, my sister and I began discussing Linda through lengthy text messages. I checked on the website, “Find A Grave,” to see if there was any further information on her.

To my astonishment, my sister and I were discussing Linda on what would’ve been her 85th birthday – May 22, 2025.

Little has changed since beginning the journey of farewell and preparation last July 2024 when I first learned the news about the cancer and that my son would die. Precious little has changed since the morning of November 6, 2024 when his last breath was finished.

The numbness has lightened a bit, but the heavy sadness, anger, little irritations, wanting to be alone, the lingering fatigue, and my unmasked annoyance at standard phrases (“He’s in a better place” [what an Effed-up thought!] “It gets easier with time” “Smile and laugh more and you’ll start to feel better” “You’ll meet and be together again” “Look at all the memories you have” “He’ll always be with you” “He’s right there in your heart”) and the never ceasing dull ache in my chest and gut that is clearly nothing to do with the damned MS that tortures every part of my body.

A few weeks ago, someone had the audacity to say to me, “You need to lighten up. He was adopted, not like he was your real son.” I’m not a violent person, but it was all I could do to not ram my shopping cart into the individual, followed by whacking them with my cane. Instead, they received a few colorful words embedded into a one line sentence demanding they never come near me again.

I do appreciate my private students and being with my fellow Dayton Live house managers, the Volunteers-Ushers, the bar tenders, the support staff, and the kaleidoscope of patron personalities. I get my people-fix in one huge dose and then I can go home to relax with the pooches. Ah, yes, my darling canines that love me and tolerate my moods. And, there is David with whom I Zoom daily, my sister’s texts, and loving chit-chatty emails with a second cousin.

The journey is engaged with no calendar, no timeline. Each day is simply what it is… what it needs to be – one with activity or one to remain under the covers, snuggling with the pooches.

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The following article resonates with me.

The anger.

The annoyance with common phrases.

The exhaustion.

The self-awareness and education.

I wanted to be at Beth Israel for Mariah’s service but opted to watch it via Zoom. It was a beautiful service with many of her friends and family sharing lovely tributes.

This You Tube video is a performance not related to the this morning’s service but of a song that is important to me. I was blessed to sing the premiere of this song on a Ball State University graduate recital with songs composed or arranged by Elaine Broad. “Oseh Shalom” was, and always has been my favorite for the past (nearly) forty years.

Yesterday, I spent the early morning at Schuster Center, house managing the young people’s concert with the Dayton Philharmonic Orchestra. I believe it was one of their best.

Since I was out by 12:30 PM, I decided to grab the No. 2 bus to the edge of the Oregon District to eat at my favorite Chinese buffet. I have only been there, recently, once since October 2024, and I have enjoyed my return.

I arrived home by 2:30 PM, happily greeted by five wonderful pooches who were pottied and fed before I climbed into bed for a two-hour nap. I really wasn’t too tired, but multiple sclerosis and grief are generous concoction of great fatigue. I rose at 5 PM, grabbed the southbound No. 17 to Town & Country Shopping Center, about one half mile away, to complete some deposits and to grab a few things from Kroger. Back at home, I didn’t feel like mowing but did get the trimming completed.

This morning, after feeding the tribe at 6 AM, I lounged on the deck while finishing my audiobook, Jon Meacham’s FRANKLIN & WINSTON: AN INTIMATE PORTRAIT OF AN EPIC FRIENDSHIP, an exceptionally good dual-biograph on Franklin D. Roosevelt and Sir Winston Churchill. A few days before, I had completed Meacham’s AMERICAN GOSPEL which I enjoyed very much.

At 10 AM, I checked the weather and saw a large band of storms moving toward Dayton. With great speed, I mowed the entire yard, with more struggle than I have encountered before. I don’t know if the issues were from the achiness of the approaching front, or a sign of something else. With a little under 45 minutes, the mowing was completed and I was back on the deck to start a new book and relax before the quick, heavy band passed over.

Tonight is the Dayton Live Volunteer cookout at the Schuster Center. I had originally signed up to attend but have opted to remain home. I do love the wonderful Volunteers and wish I felt up to snuff so I could attend.

Monday, I will attend the funeral of a young neighbor lady, the 34-year-old wife of a former student. Less than two weeks ago, she announced she was abandoning targeted cancer therapy and passed away yesterday afternoon. I only met Mariah a dozen times, or so, the first being when she and Marlyn walked an escapee, Erma, back down Rockhill Avenue. I am so very, very sad for her family.

The expansive Wintergarden inside Tje Schuster Center.

The nineteenth century theatre is a part of the Dayton Live cluster of performing centers in downtown Dayton.

I was on the northbound No. 17 by 7:25 AM to be downtown to house manage the Dayton Philharmonic Orchestra’s “Young People’s Concert,” which is one of my favorite presentations.

After leaving the PNC Annex where I house managed HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL, Jr., I crossed through Courthouse Square.

I rose from my two-hour nap, feeling refreshed, energized, and with some additional strength. A powerful wind had been blowing the 70°+ wind through The Haasienda and I desired to be a part of it.

I let the dogs out and checked my phone for the next bus. A northbound No. 17 bus was twelve minutes away. Whoa! I was across the street at the bus stop with several minutes to spare.

I spent nearly three-hours wandering around the Southwest downtown Dayton quadrant to photograph architecture.

It was a relaxing jaunt and my camera was utilized a great deal more in the early evening sunset.

The best part was that I accumulated 16,927 steps!

Additional photos to the ones selected below: Dayton Architecture, 2025

I was dressed and on the northbound No. 17 bus, heading into the beautiful sunny morning with my mind noting which parts of Woodland Cemetery I wanted to capture with my camera. Woodland offers a rare beauty during g the spring months when everything is in bloom.

I started along Fairground Avenue and immediately felt pain and discomfort cursing every area of my body. I considered turning around to grab No. 17 south but I believed I could walk it off.

How wrong I was.

Once inside the enormous front gate, I calculated a fierce reduction in my allotted two hours of scouring three-fourths of the cemetery.

I went directly to the Children’s section of the mausoleum to visit Emily Crouch, the sister of my former students, Ryan and Molly Crouch. I always stopped to say, “Hello,” to Emily and send a snapshot to the Crouch family to let them know I was remembering their infant daughter and sister. Today, however, I was introduced to Felicia’s urn beside Emily’s cremains. I knew Ryan and Molly had placed their mother’s urn next to Emily but I was still a bit taken aback. Felicia and my mother got to know one another and Felicia dubbed Mother, “Lady Diana,” or simply, “Lady Di.”

Sadly, the grounds only exhibited tulips and daffodils and not the splendid array of a colorful springtime. I had slipped four additional camera batteries into my pocket in preparation of taking 400+ photographs… only one was needed.

Thankfully, there was some roadwork that solidly deterred me from attempting the trek to the Deeds’ mausoleum. Instead, I hobbled to the Wright Family’s plot, paid my respects, and then braved my way the few hundred yards to the pinnacle to look out over the City of Dayton and The Miami Valley.

After a bite to eat at Burger King, a semi-tradition, I grabbed several buses to the shopping plaza across from Kettering’s Delco Park, and was back home by 2:15 PM. The Quintet was seemingly excited to see me… I mean, excited to rush outside to pee.

By 2:30 PM, I was napping with the three younger pooches pressed beside me.

Additional photos of Woodland Cemetery, April 2025

I didn’t think using the “laugh” emoji on someone’s comment would cause such a hideous reaction from the commenter.

In one of my hometown Facebook groups, someone posted an encouraging original post regarding “acceptance.” I typically do not respond to things in my hometown groups unless it relates to Elwood’s history or it is posted by, or involves a family or friend.

One member was challenging others and this was one of their comments.

Several paragraphs down, there were several unkind things written about the original post and about others who supported it.

There were several comments by the individual who posted the comment about belittling others. I hit the “laugh” emoji on one of his comments.

Later, I saw there was a recent notice for Facebook Messenger, which I rarely use. Wow. What vitriol.

I’m glad the individual took note and recognized that I am a “useful idiot.”

I slept in, mowed the yard, had lunch, napped some more, showered, had a Chinese buffet for supper, and now getting ready to watch A NICE INDIAN BOY at Neon Movies.

On this day in United States history…

I’m writing this at 6:40 AM. One hundred sixty years ago, President Abraham Lincoln had less than a. Hour to live. At 10:30 PM, the night before, the president was shot in the back of the head by John Wilkes Booth. Across the street from Ford’s Theatre, Lincoln was carried to a back room in the Peterson House. His life would come to an end at 7:22 AM.

In the early morning hours of April 15, 1912, the HMS Titanic, on its maiden voyage, sank to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean following a collision with an iceberg



Two significant events occurred in our nation’s history on April 14th.

President Abraham Lincoln was shot by John Wilkes Booth on Friday evening, April 15, 1865, while watching OUT AMERICAN COUSIN at Ford’s Theatre in Washington, DC. The president would expire the following morning.

The HMS Titanic, on its maiden voyage across the North Atlantic Ocean, struck an iceberg the evening of April 14, 1912. The ship would sink in the early morning hours of April 15th.

Some photos of Flyer, 11, and the fairly new pups, Chief and Navi, 5 months, popped up on my memory file, today.

My morning walk introduced me to a beautiful sky preceding a small amount of rain and a variety of blooming trees and flowers.

Happy birthday, Thomas Jefferson!

13 Apr 1743 – 4 Jul 1826

July 19, 1994, I picked up a nine week old kitten from a Centerville band family. I named him Mister Logan, after my beloved theatre directing mentor, the legendary Joshua Logan… well, that was until I learned from my vet that Mister Logan was female…

Logan was more like a dog learning new commands, walking on a leash, and even riding in a parade or two. She was very unique and marvelously intelligent with a personality to match.

Logan lived for seventeen and one half years and was healthy and active until her last week.

Know you are still loved, Fuzzy Face!

Logan: 13 Apr 1994 – 13 Oct 2011

Two significant things happened eighty years ago, on this date.

President Franklin Delano Roosevelt died in the afternoon at Warm Springs, Georgia.

FDR had been president since 1933.

Later that day, Vice-President Harry Truman was summoned to The White House and told the news by Eleanor Roosevelt.

The “new” president asked Mrs. Roosevelt, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Mrs. Roosevelt placed her hand on Truman’s shoulder and asked, “Harry, is there anything we can do for you, for you are the one in trouble, now.”

We met at Smith-Walbridge Drum Major Camp in Syracuse, Indiana on Lake Wawasee in July 1979. Darin would turn 15 in September, and Rick would turn 16 in December.

Rick graduated from high school, and went on to complete his undergraduate degree at Northwestern University, and his graduate work at Chicago University.

April 10, 1990, Rick was the sole fatality in a car|semi accident on his return to Chicago from Muncie.

It’s been 35 years since you passed, and not a day passes that my thoughts don’t turn your way. Know you are still deeply missed and know you are still dearly loved…

Salute…