Jamie Janosz

My husband often jokes that if he can't find me, I'll be at the lifeguard station a few miles south of us. We stopped there once - when we first moved to Florida - to ask about vacancies at an oceanfront hotel. I started to get out of the car only to see a dozen nicely tanned, muscular men jogging past me. It was like Baywatch come to life. But seriously, the red lifeguard stands dot the Atlantic coast. Most of the time, I do not see an actual person sitting atop the own at our location. Budget cuts mean lifeguards only truly guard the more popular areas of the beach. Ours often sits empty. And while it is beautiful, the beach poses real danger. There have been the occasional shark sightings. And, there are often viscous rip currents. Special flags are used to warn swimmers to take caution. But people don't heed the warnings, and there are too often accidents where someone is swept out into the ocean with no one around to help or rescue. As I passed this empty lif...

What are you up against right now? Does it seem impossible? For me, right now, it is fretting about my daughter leaving for college in just a few weeks. I know that she is perfectly capable of college - she is brilliant and funny and friendly and sensible. And I know that saying goodbye on drop-off day will not mean that we will never see one another again. But I also know that we are both stressed out about it. We did a mall trip - one of our favorite things to do together - and then in the midst of clothes shopping we were sad. Everything we bought reminded us of the upcoming event. Everything. So we ate a jalapeno pretzel with cheese sauce and then got really brutal back massages from the mall kiosk people (remind me not to do that again). But, for both of us, this whole daunting upcoming thing seems impossible. How will we do it? How will we survive? So I went for a walk. I do my best thinking while I'm walking on the beach. It was hot out this morning at 7 a.m., bu...

I stood in the middle of Miami International Airport, arms spread, palms facing up, feet on the two yellow footprints painted on the cement floor. The female security agent was a foot shorter than me, her brown braided hair came only to my chin. She pulled on latex gloves. "I'm going to pat you down," she said, "But when I come to sensitive areas, I'll use the back of my hand." I nodded. "Would you prefer to move to a private area?" she asked, her eyes softening. "No," I shrugged. "This is fine." My husband was behind me in line - and another security agent was being summoned to give him the same inspection. We had decided to opt out of the x-ray machine that was scrutinizing everyone attempting to fly out of Miami. The funny thing is that even after passengers were x-rayed, another agent was patting them down anyway. Regardless, the whole process made me feel like a common criminal. Between the spread-eagle pat do...