Jamie Janosz

Yesterday, I felt like a tourist. We packed a picnic basket with ice and drinks and bag of salt and pepper chips that I can't stop eating. We drove the few miles south to the central area of Daytona Beach. Milt loves Daytona Beach because they allow cars to drive on it. He gets to look at the water and automobiles - all at one time. For years, Milt and I have made this stop on every trip to Florida. There is something magical about waking up to the sun rising over the Atlantic Ocean, so our hotels were always upgraded slightly to include an ocean view room. The trouble with vacations is that the weather doesn't always cooperate. Many times we were at Daytona on cloudy, cool days. We would stubbornly plunk down on our beach towels, wearing sweatshirts with the wind whipping sand pellets at our faces, refusing to admit that this just wasn't working. Today wasn't one of those days. It was Good Friday and the beach was packed. We squeezed our Kia Soul into the...

Good Friday Synchroblog with Convergent Books About five years ago, my family traveled to Japan. When the last day arrived, we were reluctant to leave the tropical island. Standing on the shore of the East China Sea, my husband urged me to take a long last look. “After all,” he insisted, “we will probably never return to this place.” That day, I stopped what I was doing and carefully examined the exotic scene: the green moss covered coral reefs, the grey blue water stretching as far as I could see, the sea shells littering the white sand. I took a deep breath and concentrated…this was my last glimpse of Okinawa. Last moments are meant to be savored because they may never happen again. But all too often last moments have a way of sneaking up on us. We don’t realize they are the “last” until they are gone. In 1998, my dad died of a heart attack at the age of 60. His death stunned my family. There were no last moments. No last chances to say good-bye, to tell him h...