Skip to main content




I’m going to date myself here. Not like I don’t on a regular basis.  However, anyone remembering the song by Carly Simon, “Anticipation”?  Well… a few of you will.  The rest will perhaps Google out of curiosity. So, it goes.

Over this week and into January 1st, we all may be exposed to the media displaying what has transpired over the year of 2021, soon to be history. Some outlets will focus on the passing of celebrities and politicians. And or political events. Perhaps catastrophic events by none other than Mother Nature… Induced by some Man-not-so-kind actions and events, perhaps.

Yet, what will each individual take away from it all? Are our experiences null and void, because of lack of fame? Or perhaps, we’d like to escape from even acknowledging 2021 existed. Or will we think of 2021 as a strange sort of historical year? Only individuals themselves will know how they internalize the year of 2021. So, about eight billion souls will have eight billion different perceptions on the year of 2021 and what it represents to them.

I find reflection is a good way to process our moments, to make them better in some way. To right wrongs. To question our path and what direction we decide to sail in. To be like water. Bend not break. Yet not to float aimlessly either. To gain direction, to change direction. To re-route our thoughts and perhaps our perceptions of ideologies we once had. Or to renew the old ideologies we tossed away five years ago. Like we gave up or something. Maybe we gave up on humanity. Just a guess.

Giving up is not something terribly fruitful though.  Changing, yes. Like the song says, “Where to now St. Peter?” As I have been asking myself that question from a near fifty-year old song playing in my head this year practically every day. I know what I want. I’m hoping to get there. And it’s oh so personal. It is something I’ve felt all my life. Of where I wanted to be and how I wanted to feel.

It’s the anticipation. The waiting, as I attempt to stay in the moment for our children. Yet I lay in bed and daydream that I have what I don’t, yet I want it. And for those few minutes of peace in the morning. I stare at the ceiling, envisioning, and feeling my dream as if it were right around the corner. I know I may never get there. But I can dream with my eyes open.---Jody-Lynn Reicher


Popular posts from this blog

2023 Holiday Letter from the Reicher's

Well, I didn't think I'd be doing a Holiday Letter this year, but here goes... The Spirit of Norm is in the air. As the wind whips with minus a true snowstorm.  In hopes the Farmers Almanac was correct, I pray to the snow gods. Rain ensued the month of December thus far. We have nearly tripled the amount of rainfall usual for December in New Jersey. And I've witnessed its treachery. Storms such as these hit us hardest in July. Then remained fairly intense through til about early October.  Our daughters are doing well, Thank God.  Their Dad would be proud of them. Our oldest Sarah, now a Junior at UCLA pursuing her degree in Chemical Engineering. She's digging the whole California scene. Which I thought it was for her. She's had some good traveling on her off times from school. For her March 2023 week off, she drove her and a few friends out to Lake Tahoe and went downhill skiing for a first in nearly 5 years. She had to rent the ski equipment.  Funny enough when

Sledging the Hammer

  "You could have a steam trainIf you'd just lay down your tracks..."---Peter Gabriel's 'Sledgehammer' lyrics. This is not the tune that lay in my mind this morning as I reminisced about yesterday's volunteers to help on trail crew.    However, as I looked up the proper definition of sledging that song popped up. I say sledging, which is my own take on swinging a hammer that we call a "Double Jack". The Single Jack is six pounds. I know that because our regular crew of five including me and one staff supervisor are handling Harriman State Park Trails, and have to carry about four of those, two shaping hammers, along with a hoist, belay bag with heavy equipment, first aid kit, double Jack, three 18lb rock bars, a lopper, three buckets, three eye to eyes, two burlap straps, two green wrapping straps, two pick Mattox, a roe hoe or two, a bar for either the two ton or one ton hoist, the feathers with pegs for splitting rocks that we drill... s

It Follows Me...

One may wonder what would inspire someone to work hard labor voluntarily. For me it’s the love of many things. It’s the passion that won’t be broken. Because there are so many aspects to such service for me, that it may seem beyond comprehension. I’d compare it to my youthful desire to enter the military as a young child. Then for a multitude of reasons only to follow through thirteen years later at age eighteen entering the Marines. There were things that followed me throughout my life. Sometimes they were questions of how I ever gave up my over decade’s life dream to become a New Jersey State Trooper. My childhood desire to never wed—to never have any serious relationships with another human being. I desired only service in military and law enforcement nearly my whole childhood. Too the extent that even one of my Marine Corps superiors expressed to me last July, “I never thought you’d ever get married. It just wasn’t who you were. You were always a loner.” I replied, “Yeah. I know.