Dear Mom,
Remember when I spoke at Dad's retirement party? I was so happy to be able to share my thoughts about him while he was there, just feet away from me. That's how I feel about this particular blog. I get to share my feelings about you while you're here with me. We'll go to your favorite area restaurant for lunch to celebrate your special day, and we'll also celebrate this magnificent milestone later this month with your sons, several grandchildren and your many San Diego friends. Oh...and tonight the dinner is whatever you choose and we'll indulge in the gorgeous cake that Suzanne delivered yesterday.
You had me and my three younger brothers via C-Section in the days when women were encouraged not to have so many children via that route. But you did. You and (as I recall you saying) Elizabeth Taylor.
Dad was a fireman and each time we heard the sirens from our Newbury Street home you'd gather Gary and I and take us to the fire site. We were actually present when he went in several burning buildings. I don't remember being scared. It's what he did. It's what you did. I remember Dad studying for the various tests as he rose through the ranks. He would eventually become Chief and we no longer chased fires in the days of Brian and Gerry----just too many kids to dress in the middle of the night.
You were a phenomenal softball player. I heard from a lot of people that you were the best ballplayer on Hungry Hill. They'd usually add that you should've gone pro. You were in a bowling league for over 50 years and I always marveled at how you pitched that ball down the alley at those skinny candlestick pins with such accuracy they'd explode in all directions. I'm pretty sure there were several bowling titles in those years. You were an excellent golfer as well. When you drove the ball a few months ago in Atlanta it gave those grandson's a nice memory. They captured that on video and shared it widely. I was not blessed with your gift for playing sports, so when you remarked several years ago that I had a good golf swing, I was pretty pleased with myself. The boys played baseball, soccer and hockey so you were always on the go and stretched every dollar Dad made to pay for all the activities and multiple trips to Canada.
Speaking of stretching a dollar---I was one of the best dressed kids at Our Lady of Hope and later, Cathedral, because you were one super shopper. I never went without the latest trend-wear---mohair sweaters, madras anything---because of your deft use of King's layaway plan, Filene's basement bargains and Mark and Carl's, aka, the "junk shop" finds. I definitely inherited the shopping gene but not quite the knack for the bargains that you had.
You have had many friends during your lifetime. Most of the ones I knew from my childhood days- Kay, Barbara, May, Jean, Peg, Eleanor-are gone now; but you have cultivated new relationships in the last two decades and manage to keep quite busy with your cousins Peggy and Mary and a posse that includes Carol, Kathy and the Patty's and of course the early morning McDonald's crowd where you exchange political views with the likes of Dan and Norm and others.
Next month I turn the age you were when we lost Dad. I can't even begin to imagine being left without Barry at this age. You were so brave, so strong. Over the years you felt the sting of being the one at weddings and parties without a partner. But you didn't wallow in self-pity. You were a young widow. Many people asked if you wanted to marry again. I remember your response-always the same. "Why would I? I had a great man." You have navigated all these years so admirably. I know you'd say something to the effect you didn't have a choice, but that doesn't lessen the fact you chose to live and you have lived well.
Yesterday, when Michael asked what you wanted for your birthday you replied, " to be here for the next one." Music to my ears. Thank you for everything Mom. I love you. Happy Birthday!
Sunday, December 17, 2017
Thursday, December 14, 2017
Dissolved
It's now official. McCoy & Connolly Consulting, Inc. is no longer. We signed the dissolution papers this week. This has been in the works for quite some time. I had begged and guilted Nancy to keep going for several years when she was clearly ready to be done. When each of our lives exploded with health crises two years ago, our business took a bit of a hit because we really couldn't be away. Thankfully, our adult children are recovered, as are we, and even though neither of us needed the "smell the roses" reminder after all the twists and turns of our lives, the time had clearly arrived---even for me.
When I read the document "Written Consent for the Wind Up and Dissolution..." I felt sad. Not crying, death of someone, sad---just a realization that this tangible thing -our business- was done.We started out in the consulting world over 15 years ago thinking we might last 5 years; certainly not anticipating we'd make it three times that.
Nancy and I were workplace colleagues for 10 plus years. When our academic medical center made the ill-advised decision that home health was no longer part of their "mission", thus dismissing the arm of their system that provided continuity of care to their patients, we felt as if we were punched in the stomach.
"Want to try consulting?", I asked Nancy as she walked into my office during the wind down period of agency closure. Nancy replied without hesitation, "Yes!" A fifteen minute visit to an attorney the following week and McCoy & Connolly Consulting was born. Within three weeks of the agency's demise we had our first client-an agency in trouble after a disastrous state survey. We prepared their Plan of Correction and we visited the agency for several weeks to ensure the plan was implemented appropriately. That would become our specialty---"fixing" agencies that were out of compliance and giving them the education and tools to comply with extensive state and federal regulations.
We racked up quite a bit of air and road miles, stayed in a variety of lodgings from high-end to a couple of dumps, and ate some pretty fabulous meals. We had clients representative of the ethnicities of the world---and many of them insisted on feeding us as if we were in their home. Most of our clients were good people-in home health for all the right reasons. A few were not. We got stiffed once. Lesson learned. Collect a retainer. We got lost a LOT. I usually drove and Nancy navigated. She wasn't the best at directions, terrible actually, and she didn't improve much in a decade and a half.
Nancy and I are very much alike in our home health philosophy and couldn't be more different in many other aspects of our lives. Nancy lives in a rural area and has chickens and vineyards. I often say, "she grows the grapes, I drink them." I live in the suburbs by the beach. I shower in the AM, Nancy at night (very helpful when you share a room). The products I use for skin, hair and make-up could easily claim the entire bathroom counter. Nancy, not. I told her many, many times how lucky she is to have aged so well. We don't share the same political or religious beliefs either and yet---we managed to navigate even that difficult terrain. It all just worked- so naturally, so easily, so well.
We had a lot of laughs in the rooms we shared to save our clients some expense money. We also had many moments where one of us propped the other up after a sad life event and during other personal crises. Nancy is a good listener. So am I. We were a good team. The greatest gift of the business we had together is the friendship that developed during years on the road, in the air, over breakfasts, lunches and dinners. The friendship will continue. I'm glad for that. This is a bittersweet moment for sure.
But---mostly sweet.
When I read the document "Written Consent for the Wind Up and Dissolution..." I felt sad. Not crying, death of someone, sad---just a realization that this tangible thing -our business- was done.We started out in the consulting world over 15 years ago thinking we might last 5 years; certainly not anticipating we'd make it three times that.
Nancy and I were workplace colleagues for 10 plus years. When our academic medical center made the ill-advised decision that home health was no longer part of their "mission", thus dismissing the arm of their system that provided continuity of care to their patients, we felt as if we were punched in the stomach.
"Want to try consulting?", I asked Nancy as she walked into my office during the wind down period of agency closure. Nancy replied without hesitation, "Yes!" A fifteen minute visit to an attorney the following week and McCoy & Connolly Consulting was born. Within three weeks of the agency's demise we had our first client-an agency in trouble after a disastrous state survey. We prepared their Plan of Correction and we visited the agency for several weeks to ensure the plan was implemented appropriately. That would become our specialty---"fixing" agencies that were out of compliance and giving them the education and tools to comply with extensive state and federal regulations.
We racked up quite a bit of air and road miles, stayed in a variety of lodgings from high-end to a couple of dumps, and ate some pretty fabulous meals. We had clients representative of the ethnicities of the world---and many of them insisted on feeding us as if we were in their home. Most of our clients were good people-in home health for all the right reasons. A few were not. We got stiffed once. Lesson learned. Collect a retainer. We got lost a LOT. I usually drove and Nancy navigated. She wasn't the best at directions, terrible actually, and she didn't improve much in a decade and a half.
Nancy and I are very much alike in our home health philosophy and couldn't be more different in many other aspects of our lives. Nancy lives in a rural area and has chickens and vineyards. I often say, "she grows the grapes, I drink them." I live in the suburbs by the beach. I shower in the AM, Nancy at night (very helpful when you share a room). The products I use for skin, hair and make-up could easily claim the entire bathroom counter. Nancy, not. I told her many, many times how lucky she is to have aged so well. We don't share the same political or religious beliefs either and yet---we managed to navigate even that difficult terrain. It all just worked- so naturally, so easily, so well.
We had a lot of laughs in the rooms we shared to save our clients some expense money. We also had many moments where one of us propped the other up after a sad life event and during other personal crises. Nancy is a good listener. So am I. We were a good team. The greatest gift of the business we had together is the friendship that developed during years on the road, in the air, over breakfasts, lunches and dinners. The friendship will continue. I'm glad for that. This is a bittersweet moment for sure.
But---mostly sweet.
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