Donna O'Donnell Figurski's Blog

It's All About Me!

Musings by Donna #67 I Lost My Best Friend

PATTY WILLIAMS STREIPS

(1951 – 2014)

  trish-dining-hall-1-2006


This is my friend, Patty Williams Streips. I call her Trish. No one else does. Only ME!

I met Trish many years ago when she worked in the Microbiology Department at the University of Rochester in Rochester, NY. in the same department as my husband, David. Trish and I have been best friends ever since. donna-&-trsih-estes-park-1We even lived in San Diego at the same time . . . before she moved to Louisville to marry Uldis. Although Trish lived in Louisville and we didn’t see each other often, our hearts were always linked.

Below is a poem I wrote for my . . .

             trishaanddonnawindriver2006
                 GIRLFRIEND

Though we don’t talk on the telephone,
Or see each other every day.
Our hearts, our minds, our souls,
Are not so far away.

You know I’ll be here for you.
And I know you’re there for me.
A friendship likes yours and mine,
Is treasured eternally.

You are my friend; and I am yours.
Oh . . . the secrets and joys we share!
I send my love, girlfriend,
To remind you that I care.

With love and wishes
for a happy birthday!
1/05/07

Donna

 

When Trish and I were together, we never stopped laughing. That’s what we did best together.

The cross-country miles never broke our bond. I’ve visited Trish and her family in Louisville many times through the years. One summer Trish and I even met at Lake Erie to camp for a week–a girl’s week out. We “pounded” our stakes into the sand of the beach, just a few hundred yards from Sara’s at the edge of Presque Isle. We arranged our door flaps only feet from each other so we could lean out and talk late into the night, and giggle too, of course. We spent all of our time together … talking and giggling.

Trish recently sent me a picture of herself at a baby shower with her friends. I smiled when I looked at it. She was laughing hysterically. I sent her this email:

Hey Trish,
Cool pict. Thanks for sending it.

You were doing what you do best … laughing!!!!

It made me laugh just to see you laugh. It’s contagious, Friend.

Love you.
Donna

 

She replied:

I laugh best when I am with you.

trish

 

Oh so true! So do I when I’m with her!

I will miss you, Girlfriend. And, as we ended every phone call or visit …

Love You!

trish-estes-park-1-2006

 

May 6, 2014 Posted by | Musings by Donna | , , | 11 Comments

Musings by Donna #66 Paradise Went Gray

Gray rainy sky th

 

 

Paradise went gray. It looks like a New Jersey day. The sky is thick with clouds – dark ones. Instead of oaks, maples, and evergreens, palm trees enthusiastically wave as though greeting long lost friends. The yellow flower-clad branches of the palo verdePalm Trees Blowing th trees sweep the sky trying to rid it of those pesky clouds. It’s working. Patches of blue peak through, making way for the sun to follow.

For now, the grayness is welcome – if only for an hour, maybe a day. The newness, the respite from the constant blue sky is refreshing. Tomorrow though I want the sun back. But for today, I’ll enjoy the grayness through my wall-to-wall window with streaming hot coffee in my favorite blue cup. Ich liebe es!

Ich Liebe Dich Cup

As I say after each post:

Please leave a Comment by simply clicking the blue words “Leave a Comment” below this post.

Feel free to Like my post.

You can also Vote for my post by clicking on a star. (David needs company.)

If you enjoy my blog, please pass it on to all your friends and they to theirs. (I’d like to drive up the readership. Sometimes it feels like I am wrting in a vacuum. So go ahead. Send it to 10 of your friends.)

If you hate my blog, go ahead and send it to your enemies. (10 enemies would be good.) I won’t mind.

(Clip Art compliments of Bing.)

(Photo compliments of ME.)

April 26, 2014 Posted by | Musings by Donna | , , , | 2 Comments

Musings by Donna #65 Missing the Parentals

I’ve always lived away from family – well, ever since I grew up and left my parents behind. At seventeen I headed south from Erie, Pennsylvania, to Pittsburgh – about two and a half hours away – to go to college. Then I moved with my husband, David, to Rochester, New York, where he attended graduate school. There I worked at the University of Rochester and attended cosmetology school at night. After four years, with David’s Ph.D. traveling th-3degree in his hand, a cosmetology license clutched in mine, and with one kid tucked in the back seat of a van and one in utero, we drove into the sun to San Diego, California. There, David did his postdoctoral work. I volunteered in an elementary school and fell in love with teaching, while my forgotten cosmetology license gathered dust in a file. Next we headed to New Jersey/New York, where we spent the largest portion of our lives, raising our children while David and I each followed our passions – David, science and research, and me, teaching. After thirty-five years, it was time to make another move. We could go anywhere!

We thought of New Mexico and California. We looked in North Carolina. We even wondered about New Zealand, a place of pure beauty that we had visited many years ago. But the draw was not strong enough – not for any of them. Too cold! Too shaky! No family! Too far!

Arizona, we thought! It’s not cold or shaky. It’s not too far from family because many of our extended family Arizona th-3members live there – aunts and cousins, nieces and a nephew, and a brother and a sister-in-law. Arizona looked good. It would be fun to finally live near family. We decided that Arizona would be the next stop on our journey of life.

Unfortunately we came too late to spend time with my mother or father. They both lived in Arizona, but their journey had ended. Though they each passed on before we arrived, tth-4hey are here!

My mother is in Dillard’s, World Market, Sprouts, and Bashas’. She is at 16th Street, and she is at Bethany Home and Camelback and Indian School. She is in Paradise Valley and in the Teepee Mexican restaurant – my favorite. Chimichangas and Cheese Crisps – she always ordered them.

My father is in Pinnacle Peak and Cave Creek. He’s on Tatum Road. But mostly he is at Cold Stone, his, and now my, favorite ice creamery. He loved ice cream, and I inherited that th-3delicious-calorie-craving gene from him. He introduced me to Cold Stone when he first moved here, and I can’t pass it without thinking of him. Sometimes I can’t pass it without indulging in an Irish Cream, Cinnamon Bun, French Toast, Cotton Candy, or Coconut ice cream cone with brownie or caramel or apple-pie filling mixed in. I do it for him. 😉 That ice cream exerts an unexplainable magnetic draw.

Arizona is alive with the spirit of my parents. They are around every corner and are never far from my mind. Every day I wake up and think I am … home!Cactus th-3

(Clip Art compliments of Bing.)

As I say after each post:

Please leave a Comment by simply clicking the blue words “Leave a Comment” below this post.

Feel free to Like my post.

You can also Vote for my post by clicking on a star. (David needs company.)

If you enjoy my blog, please pass it on to all your friends and they to theirs. (I’d like to drive up the readership. Sometimes it feels like I am writing in a vacuum. So go ahead. Send it to 10 of your friends.)

If you hate my blog, go ahead and send it to your enemies. (10 enemies would be good.) I won’t mind.

January 30, 2014 Posted by | Musings by Donna | , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Musings by Donna #64 My Meteor & Writing Conference

MY METEOR! I saw it for three seconds – one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi – on my way to a writers’ conference in Avondale, Arizona on a Saturday morning in early November 2013. Amazing! Meteor over Phoenix (Sorry about the commercial, but the meteor is worth it.)

It was bright, fluorescent, and green; and it trailed across the sky in front of me. It looked like a line of lime Meteor th-2slime blazing across the sky. Fortunately I was stopped at a red light and could experience the entire three seconds without fear of running off the road. Meteors in the bright, blue sky are just not something you might expect to see every day. Heck, you may not even see one in a lifetime. I know it’s taken me decades to see my first. When I finally believed my eyes, I speed-dialed David on my car phone to tell him of my amazing siting.

Then it dawned on me that early morn, as I was driving to my writing conference, that maybe My Meteor was a good omen. Maybe this conference will be the one to change my writing life. I was hoping to glean some words of wisdom. I was hoping to make a connection to set me on the right path to publishing my book, Prisoner Without Bars: Conquering Traumatic Brain Injury. I was hoping to meet other writers.

The Southwest Valley Writer’s Conference was a valuable, meaningful, and productive conference. Though I’ve attended countless workshops, conferences, and retreats in the children’s publishing world, this was my first encounter with writers for the adult audience. I was pleasantly surprised.Write th-3

The presenters were knowledgeable and the panels offered lively discussions of the process – from writing a book, to finding an agent/publisher, to marketing a book. I met an agent who seemed interested in my book. Either that or she was being kind. In any event she agreed to read the first 50 pages of Prisoner Without Bars. I’ll send that to her soon. And lastly, I made valuable writer contacts. I met Carmen at the first session. She told me of the contest she recently won at Poisoned Pen Press. Diane and I shared lunch together. Then I met Xenia (Xeni) Schiller, who I learned lived in the same town as I do. What a gem! She is a serious and accomplished writer and we began a writing group of two. We also became friends. We meet twice a week for four hours each time. Of course, we spend the first half hour talking, then it’s down to serious business. Unfortunately for me, Xeni recently got a job; and I am writing on my own again.

Was My Meteor a good omen? I think so! And … I can’t wait to see another one. Maybe in this lifetime!

As I say after each post:

Please leave a Comment by simply clicking the blue words “Leave a Comment” below this post.

Feel free to Like my post.

You can also Vote for my post by clicking on a star. (David needs company.)

If you enjoy my blog, please pass it on to all your friends and they to theirs. (I’d like to drive up the readership. Sometimes it feels like I am wrting in a vacuum. So go ahead. Send it to 10 of your friends.)

If you hate my blog, go ahead and send it to your enemies. (10 enemies would be good.) I won’t mind.

(Clip Art compliments of Bing.)

January 29, 2014 Posted by | Musings by Donna | , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Musings by Donna #63 Celebrating Grandparents

National-Grandparents-DayMother’s Day, Father’s Day, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Valentine’s Day are all special days we celebrate.  Some folks observe Rosh Hashanah, Diwali, Kwanza, Christmas, or Cinco de Mayo. More obscure days people honor are Friendship Day, National Nurses Day, Groundhog Day, Teddy Bear Day, and even Tax Day.  (You might celebrate if you got your taxes in on time and expect to receive a refund.) There is even Grandparents Day, which was celebrated today, September 8, 2013. Bring out the cake and ice cream!

th-1A vision of grandparents – older than dirt – rumpled house dress – beltless pants hung by suspenders – bent over – hobbling with cane or walker – hearing aid, false teeth on bedside table – Polident in bathroom – gray, curly hair – balding head.

Sound familiar? They were the grandparents of old – of my grandparents’ day.

Grandparents of today are hip. Donna-David-1 copy(See right. David and me – hip, trendy  grandparents.) Today’s Grannys and Grandpas can be seen on bike trails, on treadmills, and rowing machines. You may spot them sporting their neon-colored running suits on grassy, green walking paths or toting their yoga mats under their arms ready to take up the Downward Dog or Camel poses. Many Seniors are taking to the dance floor to learn the latest dance steps. Salsa is very popular.

If you are lucky enough to still have grandparents, send them a card. Let them know you are thinking of them. Tell them you care. I would … if I could. I wonder if 123 Greetings can email cards to heaven?

115492_th

Grandma Pavlik Sefchik 1185146_10201782241977797_1331808763_nPop&Gram50thAnniversaryPictureb

That’s Gram and Pop O’Donnell on the left. They were my paternal grandparents.

On the right is Grandma Pavlik-Sefchik. She was from Arizona. I never knew either of my maternal grandfathers.

National Grandparents Day originated in 1978 by Marian McQuaide, who wanted to remind younger generations of the wisdom, treasures, and history that the elderly possess.

Please leave a Comment by simply clicking the blue words “Leave a Comment” below this post.

Feel free to Like my post. Click on the “Like” button below.

You can also Vote for my post by clicking on a star.

If you enjoy my blog, please pass it on to all your friends and they to theirs.

If you hate my blog, go ahead and send it to your enemies. I won’t mind.

(Clip Art compliments of Bing.)

September 9, 2013 Posted by | Musings by Donna | , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Musings by Donna #62 The Little Things

It’s the Little Things …

It’s the little things that count – that make a strong friendship – an even stronger marriage. Sure diamonds are fun to get. So are rubies, sapphires, opals, and pearls – so beautiful in necklaces, rings, bracelets or earrings. But, it’s the little things that say, gems-hi“I love you and I respect you, and I really, really care for you.” It’s the little things that show the love.

Every morning David and I greet each other with an embrace and a kiss. On the weekends, I am usually up, showered, dressed, and downstairs before him, paying bills, checking email, and making our favorite oatmeal with Hershey’s dark chocolate powder and cinnamon. (They are good for your health: dark chocolate – cardiovascular health.oatmeal It’s a powerhouse for antioxidants. Milk chocolate is my nemesis. Too bad it’s full of calories. Cinnamon has been touted to lower blood sugar in type 2 diabetics.) When I hear David making his way slowly down the stairs, I anticipate our good morning. I know he is going to hug me, and I him. Then when day ends and we crawl into bed, I know he will hold me as I curl up in his arms.man-hugging-woman3 Sometimes we hold hands as we drift off to sleep.

It’s the little things – the foyer light welcoming me home after a late night working at the theater or the emptied dishwasher or my jeans and shirts washed, dried, and folded waiting for me to put away. The simple words “I love you” that end each phone conversation or the random, “I love you!” I love you more!” I love you more most!” or three hand squeezes, our secret vow of love, make me sigh.

These are the little things that mean so much. They are the little things that count … that make me feel special.

i-love-you-more-turn2

Please leave a Comment by simply clicking the blue words “Leave a Comment” below this post.

Feel free to Like my post.

You can also Vote for my post by clicking on a star.

If you enjoy my blog, please pass it on to all your friends and they to theirs.

If you hate my blog, go ahead and send it to your enemies. I won’t mind.

(Clip art compliments of Bing.)

June 30, 2013 Posted by | Musings by Donna | , , , , | 8 Comments

Musings by Donna #61 Mansion Dancing – Under the Stars

Manion at WestportI never dreamed that David and I would ever dance again – outside of our lessons, of course. But, in a recent trip to Westport Massachusetts, to spend time with my son, Jared, his fiancé, Emily, and her family, we found ourselves staying in a mansion … only feet from the Atlantic Ocean (Dancers thbut that’s another post). Our host, Susan, was beyond gracious, concerned about our every comfort. On our second night there, she threw a big family party on her extensive patio and even more expansive grounds overlooking the ocean; and she invited us. We stopped in about midnight.

The partygoers were huddled around the fire-ring … music still blaring. Jared and Emily began to dance on the patio. I swayed. David sat in a tall patio chair. Then the unthinkable happened. David asked me to dance. I hadn’t expected that. David can barely walk – dancing had not been on his radar for more than seven years (outside of the studio). I looked at him expectantly. Was he kidding, being facetious? No! With a huge grin, I answered, “Yes!”

We didn’t Cha-Cha or Swing, as we had learned in our Ballroom dance classes. ballroom_dancing_stars_swinging_lg_clrWe didn’t attempt the Fox Trot or even the Waltz, though Paula, our dance instructor, would have been proud of us if we had. But, we did our own dance. We swayed back and forth – never moving our feet. We called it the “TBI Sway” (Traumatic Brain Injury Sway). We swayed with my head resting against David’s shoulder and his hand gently placed at the small of my back. We swayed with him holding on to me for dear life … for balance. We danced under the stars with the sounds of ocean waves lapping the shore, with smiles on our lips and remembrances of days gone by … and the promise of our days ahead.dance under stars

Please leave a Comment by simply clicking the blue words “Leave a Comment” below this post.

Feel free to Like my post.

You can also Vote for my post by clicking on a star.

If you enjoy my blog, please pass it on to all your friends and they to theirs.

If you hate my blog, go ahead and send it to your enemies. I won’t mind.

(Clip art compliments of Bing.)

June 29, 2013 Posted by | Musings by Donna, Traumatic Brain Injury - TBI | , , , , | 14 Comments

Musings by Donna #60 Honoring Fathers

Father's Day th

It’s Father’s Day! A day set aside to remember to honor our fathers. Too often days and weeks and months go by when we don’t see, hear, or talk to our fathers. That’s the consequences of families torn apart by miles and busy lives.

When my dad, Donna & DaddyJack O’Donnell, was still of this earth, we talked every few months – he in Phoenix; I, bordering New York City. But, he was not much for the phone. After a few moments, I knew he’d say, “Well, Donna Marie, this is costing you a lot of money.” Though I’d assure him it was my dime, it meant nothing to him. His mission was to get off the phone in record time. I cherished those few Hankmoments each time we spoke, and I miss him desperately. But, thankfully I can rely on my happy memories of him. Daddy, I will always love you and you’ll always be in my heart.

Another man who I call “Dad” is my wonderful father-in-law. How can one girl get so lucky to have two special father-figures in her life? Hank Figurski is still going strong at 92 years old. We enjoy chatting on the phone and texting. He’s one “hip” f-i-l. In our younger days, we even went dancing together.

My husband, David, at the age of 23, fathered our daughter; and at 28 years old, our son. He is a wonderful father to them – a man they can look up David & Donna Father's Day for FBto – a man with grace and dignity.

Happy Father’s Day to all the special men in my life

Please leave a Comment by simply clicking the blue words “Leave a Comment” below this post.

Feel free to Like my post.

You can also Vote for my post by clicking on a star.

If you enjoy my blog, please pass it on to all your friends and they to theirs.

If you hate my blog, go ahead and send it to your enemies. I won’t mind.

(Clip art compliments of Bing.)

June 16, 2013 Posted by | Musings by Donna | , , | 2 Comments

Musings by Donna #59 Universal Mom

Universal Mom

womens-day-300x215

Mothers are everywhere-–in every corner of our world. They could be Asian, European, Latin, Arabic, African, Native American, or Indian.

Skin pigmentation varies from light cream-colored to various shades of browns. Some skins are red- or yellow-tinged. Pigment is determined by the amount of melanin present in the skin.

Sarong 3775218572_51b8320317_zSari green_and_goldenbrown_coimbatore_wedding_sari_sw19Mothers wear saris, sarongs, kimonos, and chadors. The gomesi, a square-necked, puffy-sleeved DIGITAL CAMERAdress sashed below the waist, is worn by Gomesi th-1Ugandan women. The traditional dress of indigenous women in Mexico and in Central America is the Huipilhuipil. These dresses are usually ornate, often with colorful threads or ribbons woven through them.

Kimono Fashion-Quality-Female-Women-font-b-Japanese-b-font-Long-font-b-Kimono-b-font-SexyMothers speak many languages, such as Mandarin, Punjabi, Portuguese, Javanese, French, Urdu and Wu, Uzbek, Azerbaijani, and Polish. They answer to many names. If you live in Germany, you may call your mother “Mutter.” If you grew up in Slovakia, as my grandmother did, you might call your mother “Matka.” Children of Latin descent often call their mothers “Madre” or “Mami.” Here in the Unites States, the melting pot of the world, one may hear many forms. “Mom,” “Mommy,” “Mama,” or “Mother” are the most common. I called my mother “Mom” or “Mommy” when I was a little girl. As I grew older, my name for her evolved into the more mature form of “Mother.” You can find many more forms here at Mother in Different Languages.

No matter where mothers grow up, no matter what language they speak, and no matter what the color of their skin is, a mother is a very important person to her child as he or she grows up under her guidance and love. A mother’s love is incontestable. It’s inherent.

teenagers-2Of course, mothers may expect rocky times with their offspring, as the child travels roads of the unsteady pubescent era. Often relationships shatter with pieces heartbreakingly strewn throughout the universe. The once strong bond may weaken and become fragile. Don’t worry! Hang on tight. Those uncertain teen years usually pass. It takes time and trial and error for teenagers to sort out their beings, to discover themselves, and to settle into their new persona before they majestically emerge, much like a butterfly, into a confident adult ready to successfully steer the rest of their lives. Hopefully the fragmented shards of pubescence can be gathered and pieced together to weave a stronger more stable bond between mother and child-–a bond that will last her and her child’s lifetimes … and beyond.

A mother’s love is never ending!Love th

Please leave a Comment by simply clicking the blue words “Leave a Comment” below this post.

Feel free to Like my post.

You can also Vote for my post by clicking on a star.

If you enjoy my blog, please pass it on to all your friends and they to theirs.

If you hate my blog, go ahead and send it to your enemies. I won’t mind.

(Clip art compliments of Bing.)

June 8, 2013 Posted by | Musings by Donna | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Musings by Donna #58 Strange Happenings!

Strange Happenings

STRANGE!
PIERCINGS!
NOSE RING! NOSE BEAD! NOSE DOT!
They all amount to the same thing . . . a hole in your nose.

My daughter, Kiersten was visiting in April 2005 when she said, “Mom, I want to get my nose pierced.” I looked at her as if she were nuts . . . not an uncommon mother/daughter look. Then she told me she wanted to get her daughter’s nose pierced, too. “OK!” I thought. “I’ll call your bluff.” I told her if they were going to get their noses pierced, then I would, too. Now, she called mine and said, “Let’s go!” So I did! I braced myself. I got up my nerve. I only had to keep it until I was seated in the piercer’s chair. Unfortunately, or maybe lucky for me, the piercing studio was closed. Our window of time was also closed, since Kiersten had to go back to New Mexico. “DARN!” Just when I thought I could really do this.

But the seed was planted and it wiggled just beneath the surface of my mind. Then, Betty, a friend of mine, came to visit and gave me frog earrings. They matched hers. But I didn’t have enough holes in my ears, so she persuaded me to pierce three more. So, when we went to Erie, we headed straight to Piercing Pagoda. Of course, getting my ears pierced reminded me of my desire to get my nose pierced. (Sounds a little like IF YOU GIVE A MOUSE A COOKIE — doesn’t it?) The next evening Betty and I went to Buddha’s — a little nervous and a lot scared. (I could have gone to Ink Assassin or Mad Mike’s, but Buddha’s seemed a little more sane. Actually, another time I did go to Ink Assassin and spoke with the piercer, Missy, who was very knowledgeable about her craft.) Anyhow, thirty minutes later I walked out of Buddha’s with a hole in my nose, feeling a little woozy, and a lot like I must be buddhas-2-2005out of my mind, but loving every minute of it.

It didn’t take Kiersten long after she got back home to find her own piercing studio. And now we have matching nose beads. We’re mirror images – mine on the left – hers on the right . . . mother/daughter style! 🙂

STRANGER
PIERCINGS!
UPPER LIP FRENULUM! SCUMPER!

Whatever you want to call it.
It makes me SMILE!

Image

One day I walked the streets of New York City with my friend, Monique. We found ourselves in the Village. Our steps took us to a storefront called “Venus”. We were drawn in. We stared at the counters filled with jewels and gems . . . opals, diamonds,sterling silver beads. Jewels for your ears, eyebrows, and tongues. Gems for you navel, nose, and upper lip frenulum. UPPER LIP FRENULUM??? What’s that? I didn’t know what it was either. It’s the tiny flap of skin that attaches your upper lip to your gums above your top teeth.

monique-monique-pink-2--1monique-white--1

Well, anyhow Monique had this piercing done
several years ago and
her face lights up every time she smiles.

So, of course, I wanted one, too. If you look closely, you can see the little bead that rests on my teeth. Monique has a tiny diamond, which tips the top of her teeth, too. Unfortunately, as a starter, I can only get the stainless steel bead, until the piercing heals, but at least it matches my nose bead. Oh, the nose bead is another story . . . donna-monique--smiles-1

So some weeks passed and I finally got up the nerve to change my starter bead to a blue ice gem. I wanted my gem to match Monique’s . . . well almost. Hers is clear like a diamond, while mine is blue ice.. Monique searched the web and ordered mine from Germany. I couldn’t wait until it arrived.

Off to the pirecers again for the change. I did not have enough courage to try to change it myself.

donna-scumper-1

monique-diamond-jewel-1

Please leave a Comment by simply clicking the blue words “Leave a Comment” below this post.

Feel free to Like my post.

You can also Vote for my post by clicking on a star.

If you enjoy my blog, please pass it on to all your friends and they to theirs.

If you hate my blog, go ahead and send it to your enemies. I won’t mind.

Photos compliments of me.

(Clip art compliments of Bing.)

April 29, 2013 Posted by | Musings by Donna | , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Fight Stroke

Resources for stroke patients, caregivers, and family members

FindingStrengthToStandAgain's Blog

Overcoming obstacles with Optimism

Braingirl and Next Doors Cat

Life after Traumatic Brain Injury

101 Books

Reading my way through Time Magazine's 100 Greatest Novels since 1923 (plus Ulysses)

Miss Clara's Corner

Be the change you wish to see in the world -Gandhi

Views from a Window Seat

Jeannine Atkins on Writing and Stuff

making our way

Making our way in the mountains

In An Instant Your Life Can Change Forever

Brain Injury Association of Massachusetts Blog