Daily Comments 2026 (Also, #yesican Coaching)
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Also all new information for #yesican Coaching with Karen will now appear in the Daily Comments.
11 January 2026
When You Realize You’re Not Someone’s Person
There’s a particular kind of heartbreak that comes not from a dramatic ending, but from a quiet realization: you are not someone’s person.
Falling in love and building a life with a partner is one thing. Falling in love and slowly discovering that the other person depends on you in ways that drain your spirit is something entirely different.
My first marriage lasted seven years—longer than a “seven‑year itch,” but not long enough to build the kind of foundation I once believed we could create. Back then, I lived by the mantra:
“Make someone happy and you will be happy too.”
It sounds noble, but it’s nearly impossible to make someone happy when they aren’t truly invested in you, or at least not in the way you need and deserve.
With time—44 years of reflection, growth, and healing—I’ve come to understand that we simply weren’t meant for each other. And that’s okay. Our marriage gave us a son we both love deeply, and that alone makes those seven years meaningful. They weren’t wasted; they were part of my path, a step toward becoming who I am today.
We entered that relationship carrying more baggage than either of us could see. Family issues, old wounds, unspoken expectations—we were too young and too unprepared to recognize what we were up against. We didn’t have the tools to repair what was broken, so divorce became the tool we reached for.
Looking back now, I see it not as failure, but as clarity. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do—for yourself and for the other person—is to acknowledge that you are not each other’s person, and to let both lives move forward in the direction they were always meant to go.
When You Realize You Can’t Do Everything for Someone
There comes a moment in life when you finally understand that no matter how hard you try, you cannot carry someone else’s happiness on your back. It took me years—decades, really—to learn that lesson.
In the two years between my divorce and meeting the man who has now been my husband for almost 42 years, I was still performing the role I thought defined love: “make someone happy, and you will be happy too.” I wore that belief like a uniform, convinced it was my responsibility to fill every emotional gap in another person’s life.
During my separation, my parents repeatedly asked me, “What did you do wrong?” At the time, those words felt like blame. I heard accusation, failure, judgment. I thought they were pointing a finger at me for the end of my marriage.
It wasn’t until I was 60 years old—sixty—that I finally understood what they were really asking. They weren’t blaming me. They were urging me to look inward, to examine my heart and soul, and to recognize that I deserved the same love and care I so freely gave to my husband and children. They were nudging me toward self‑compassion long before I knew how to practice it.
By the time this realization settled in, my father was gone. But my mother lived long enough to witness the early stages of my transformation—the moment I stopped trying to be everything for everyone and started learning how to be something for myself.
It’s a lesson I’m still learning, but one I now carry with gratitude instead of guilt.
When Change Starts to Reshape a Marriage
In the midst of all this personal growth, something else began to shift—my marriage. Change, even the healthy kind, doesn’t arrive quietly. It ripples through every corner of your life, including the relationships you hold closest.
For more than twenty‑five years, I was the GIVER in our marriage. The one who jumped up to refill a glass, make a meal, fold the laundry, handle the details, anticipate the needs. It was a burden at the time—and yet it was simply who I believed I needed to be.
But as I began carving out time for myself—real time, even if we were sitting in the same room—I felt the tension between old habits and new intentions. My body would still rise automatically to take care of something, even when my heart was whispering, “Sit. Breathe. This moment is yours.”
Self‑care sounds lovely in theory, but in practice it can feel like breaking a lifelong contract you never realized you signed.
And yet, this shift has been good for both of us. Hard, yes. Uncomfortable at times. But good. Because a marriage built on one person giving and the other receiving eventually becomes lopsided. Balance doesn’t happen by accident—it happens through awareness, honesty, and a willingness to rewrite the script.
As a podcaster, blogger, and life coach, I remind others that growth is a lifelong process. I’m no exception. I’m still learning, still stumbling, still catching myself in those old patterns. And on the days when I slip back into what I call my “bad habits,” I’m practicing something new:
Grace.
Grace for the woman I was.
Grace for the woman I’m becoming.
Grace for the marriage that is learning to evolve right alongside me.
Because becoming the best version of myself isn’t a destination—it’s a daily choice. And some days, that choice begins with simply staying in my seat and letting someone else get their own drink.
Have I Mentioned I Am BLESSED?
Life is beautifully messy. Some days, love feels like pure light—warm, bright, and effortless. It’s those “sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows” moments Leslie Gore sang about, when everything feels wonderful simply because you’re together.
And then there are the other days. The ones where love feels heavy, not because someone is doing something wrong, but because we forget to let the love we give so freely circle back and nourish us too.
My husband of almost 42 years never fit the picture‑perfect image of “Prince Charming.” From the moment we met, life handed us obstacles—real ones—and we’ve spent decades navigating them side by side. We’re still running the course, maybe at a slower pace now, but still moving forward together.
Richard is my soulmate. Not because our story is flawless, but because it’s real. And when I allow myself to give a little less and receive a little more, I can see the sunshine again. The lollipops. The rainbows. The sweetness that’s always been there.
I’ve had to reshape my expectations of myself. I used to believe that love meant doing, giving, anticipating, fixing. But I’ve learned that giving less doesn’t mean loving less. It means making space for balance. It means allowing myself to be cared for, too.
And in that space—where giving and receiving finally meet—I remember just how blessed I truly am.
If I Do Nothing Else…
If I do nothing else in this lifetime, I hope my words matter to someone.
I hope that the wisdom I’ve gathered over 75 years—through joy, heartbreak, reinvention, and resilience—nourishes at least one person, maybe more.
I hope my words give someone the courage to pause, breathe, and choose a path that leads them closer to their own inner Happy.
I hope my words offer tools we all need from time to time—gentle reminders, small shifts, new perspectives—that help us make choices rooted in hope rather than fear.
And most of all, I hope my words are understood.
Because change is possible.
It always has been.
But it’s a choice only you can make.
Only you can uncover, nurture, and protect your inner Happy.
If my voice helps even one person take that step, then I’ve done enough.
#yesican Coaching with Karen
9 January 2026
Another Sleepless Night
It’s another one of those nights when sleep simply refuses to come. I lay in bed tossing and turning, only managing to wake myself up even more, until I finally gave in, slipped out from under the covers, and wandered into my office.
Yes, I know what the experts say—avoid screens, avoid stimulation, avoid anything with a glowing light. But I’m not trying to sleep anymore. The trying is what’s exhausting me tonight.
Some nights, I can trace the restlessness back to something specific—a conversation, a moment from the day, something I watched, or just a random thought that decided to take up space in my brain. But tonight was different. I turned off the TV, turned off the lights, and I was tired. Yet the moment I tried to drift off, my body jolted awake as if sleep were the last thing it wanted.
I’ve been dealing with health issues again this week, and I’m blaming this bout of insomnia on whatever is stirring inside me. The vertigo and ocular migraines have returned—worse during the day, stopping me mid‑step, forcing me to pause. I keep reminding myself that “this too shall pass,” but the lingering question remains: Why is this happening again? No answers.
Still, despite the struggles of 2025, I’ve made a conscious choice to keep putting one foot in front of the other and live as fully as I can. Even if that means being awake at 2 a.m., blogging my way into tomorrow.
As I sat here writing, an instant message popped up from a high school classmate—sitting in their car, many states away, waiting for a DoorDash order. The timing felt oddly comforting. For a few minutes, we shared a simple electronic conversation that somehow deepened into something more meaningful. Two people awake in the night, helping each other feel a little less alone.
Yesterday afternoon, I had a client meeting, and it reminded me once again that life is challenging for everyone. None of us walk a perfect path. There is no perfect. We all stumble. We all fall. Sometimes we bruise, sometimes we break—bones, dreams, and expectations. But we also have the remarkable ability to mend, to rebuild, to evolve. Some of us choose to refine our abilities, to grow through the discomfort. Others don’t. But the choice is always there.
Even in my lowest moments, I’ve pushed myself to be better than I was yesterday. I can’t imagine giving up on living, even when the skies feel black as coal and I’m searching desperately for a sliver of light. The physical and emotional pain is real, but I’ve learned to use it as fuel—one step, one breath, one moment at a time.
So tonight, when sleep felt like a chore I didn’t have the energy to fight with, I chose to write instead. And here I am.
I think I might finally be tired enough to crawl back into bed.
With any luck, my husband hasn’t noticed I snuck out.
#yesican Coaching with Karen
8 January 2026
A New Year, A New Light
2026 has not disappointed. Every morning has greeted me with a sunrise—some muted behind clouds, others bursting with brightness. Today, one week into the year, Northeast Ohio is showing off a blue‑sky, almost‑spring kind of day. I know it won’t last—we’re still in the earliest stretch of winter—but it’s a lovely reminder that light always returns.
(And for those counting with me: 72 days, 13 hours, 44 minutes, and 58 seconds until Spring officially arrives… though we all know those first thirty days often masquerade as winter.)
Exploring Disappointment
Today I found myself thinking about the words disappoint, disappointed, and disappointment.
To disappoint someone is simply to fall short of the expectations they’ve placed on us. But here’s the truth:
Their expectations are theirs—not ours.
Someone once said, “If you align expectations with reality, you will never be disappointed.”
And Sylvia Plath captured it even more sharply: “If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed.”
When I stop expecting sunshine on a Northeast Ohio winter morning, I stop feeling the heaviness of cold and darkness. I look beyond the clouds—and somehow, the sun finds its way through.
Seeing life as half‑full instead of half‑empty doesn’t erase disappointment, but it transforms it into hope. Positive thoughts don’t magically fix everything, but they can absolutely “make our day.”
Another quote I love (author unknown, though I’d happily claim it):
“You’ll end up really disappointed if you think people will do for you as you do for them. Not everyone has the same heart as you.”
So keep your heart shining anyway.
Waking Up Today
The past few days have brought dizziness and a strange sense of disconnection. When I focus on a task, I can push through it, but the sensations have made concentration difficult—and yes, that led to disappointment in myself.
This morning, the symptoms are still there, but not as overwhelming. Even as I write this, I feel an odd tingling through my body and mind. It’s unsettling, but I’m here, writing, breathing, moving forward.
Adjusting My Expectations
Yesterday I chose to set realistic goals—ones that honor what my body and mind are experiencing. With support from my husband and my medical team, I’m learning to adjust rather than resist.
As I typed that last sentence, a wave of heat and cold washed over me. It felt like something releasing, a shift toward the next plateau.
Realistic goals give me permission to be in process. They soften the disappointment and help me accept the changes I’m navigating.
Practicing Self‑Compassion
I’m naming what I feel—physically and emotionally—because naming helps me process.
I’m reminding myself that I’ve walked similar paths before and found my way through.
Each time, I’ve grown stronger, more aware, more grounded.
What I Know
Life is not perfect. It never was meant to be.
We’re here to walk our path, take detours, stumble, get up, and learn. If we only choose the safest route, we never become who we’re meant to be.
I’m not suggesting we seek danger. I’m suggesting we stay awake to our steps—
the wrong turns, the trips, the falls, the bruises, the negative self‑talk—
because each one teaches us something essential.
You and I can live fully when we recognize our abilities, honor our limits, and keep moving forward with intention.
And today, that’s enough.
#yesican Coaching with Karen
6 January
As a podcaster, life coach, blogger, and public speaker, I’ve built my own circle, and I’m proud of the work I do.
No, I’m not making six figures—despite the time, energy, and heart I pour into every project—and I refuse to let the social‑media braggers convince me that my worth is measured in dollar signs. Would I like to earn more? Of course. We all deserve to be compensated fairly. But my work has never been about chasing the almighty dollar, even though earning a living is still a necessity.
Lately, the trolls have been busy flooding my inbox with unsolicited advice, telling me everything I’m doing “wrong” and offering—for a fee—to show me how to do it “right.” The truth is, there is no universal right or wrong unless I’m the one asking for guidance.
If you’re facing something similar, I hope you pause long enough to ask yourself what you want to change—and at what cost, not just financially but emotionally and spiritually.
I believe that positivity, honesty, and kindness shape the way we move through the world. They enrich our work and our relationships. But they don’t guarantee bread and butter in the pantry. Each of us must make choices that align with our purpose, our needs, and our reality.
The old saying, “Find a job you enjoy, and you’ll never work a day in your life,” only holds true if you also have the financial means to keep a roof over your head and food on the table. And often, it’s not just about sustaining yourself—you may be supporting family, or even friends who rely on your presence and care.
When I was forced into retirement fifteen years ago, I was fortunate to step into podcasting and freelance blogging. Those opportunities stretched me, challenged me, and helped me grow beyond my comfort zone.
What I’ve learned is this: obstacles are part of every path. Some we can step over, walk around, or leap across. Others stop us cold. But as humans, we have the ability to choose our next move—even when the choice isn’t easy, even when the outcome isn’t what we expected. Pivoting is part of the journey.
For 2026, my intention is simple and deeply personal: to keep doing work that brings me fulfillment. To stay vulnerable enough to grow. To allow myself the joy of excelling in ways that feel meaningful, not performative.
Purpose over perfection. Growth over comparison.
That’s the path I’m choosing.
#yesican Coaching with Karen
5 January
Waking up to Sunshine
Waking up to sunshine, melting snow, and above normal temperature, is making me smile. David McNally a guest on “How to SuperAge” – https://youtu.be/UByP_9KShfY shared that if we find one positive thought each day despite our circumstances we can live a happier, content and purposeful life.
I have subscribed to this idea for many years, and it helps me focus on what I can control, my thoughts.
If controlling your thoughts is disruptive due to physical and mental issues reaching for help is a choice you can make and I subscribe to making choices that help me see clearly.
The lyrics read, “On a clear day you can see forever…” is the key to positive and purposeful living. Sometimes we need someone to guide or coach us to see what is right in front of us.
It has taken me a long time to realize that holidays and special occasions have been difficult for me. Past experiences have been plagued by expectations causing disappointment when my story book version did not pan out.
Growing up I was known as a crier and disappointment brought me to tears making my circumstances even less desirable.
Whether it is age/maturity choosing to reduce my disappointments I have learned to lower my expectations and be in the moment. (Not always easy.)
The holidays are over and I feel emotionally and mentally healthy. Compared to many my experiences were minimal to none. Lighting the Chanukah Candles gave me purpose and provided me with memories with my dad reciting the blessings, and the family singing, ‘Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel’!
Christmas was low key as well, just spending quiet time with my husband and reaching out to family via, phone, text, and social media filled my heart.
New Year’s although a huge celebration, preparing food to please my husband and son acknowledging the end of 25 and the beginning of 26 was purposeful. We did not need a champaign toast to greet the new year.
Today we are back to ‘normal’ whatever that is and my purpose through podcasting, coaching and blogging is actively fulfilling my purpose. However, normal today is not necessarily what I had expected as I am trying to guide my older brother through his health issues and being over a thousand miles away it is not an easy task!
I know I am not alone. Many of you are helping a parent, a spouse, a sibling, or an adult child through life, and this is not something that we are trained for and often by the time we find the answers we need, we have more questions and nothing seems to be resolved.
I have shared that as I review my life I have been very lucky with my parents and brothers. We have a strong bond that has provided us love and with that love a lot of passionate care. However, we need to get that same care from our medical team and communities.
May be this is a new avenue for me to follow in 2026.
#yesican Coaching with Karen
5 January 2026
When Technology Becomes Gatekeeper and Judge
This morning began with frustration. I opened Nextdoor™ to share my latest blog, only to find a notice waiting for me: “Account temporarily suspended for breaking a community guideline.” Suspended by whom? A staff member? A robot? Hard to tell these days.
For two years I’ve posted my blogs on that platform. People read them, comment kindly, and often tell me they appreciate the perspective. I’ve never used the space to hard‑sell anything. Yes, I mention my services, but no one has ever hired me through Nextdoor™—and that’s perfectly fine. My intention has always been to offer insight, reflection, and support in a way that feels accessible and respectful.
So why the suspension? No explanation. No human contact. Just an automated message and a locked door. It makes me wonder: is this really the world we’re building, where technology not only assists us but also polices us without context or conversation?
(Did you watch 60 Minutes last night (1/4/26) https://www.cbsnews.com/video/ai-powered-humanoid-robots-60-minutes-video-2026-01-04/ ) If Robots are built and used by humans to enhance our capabilities I scream, BRAVO, they should not be replacing the human need for connection.
As a writer, I rely on technology every day. I can’t afford a human editor, so I use tools like Grammarly to help refine my work. They’re useful, but not perfect. I still depend on my own judgment, my education, and my human eye to catch the errors the algorithms miss. Technology is a partner—but it’s not infallible.
And it’s not just Nextdoor™. Facebook Marketplace recently flagged my listing for a perfectly legitimate Series 4 Apple Watch as “counterfeit.” One moment it was posted, the next it was deleted by an AI system that apparently knows better than I do what I own. For the record, it’s real, it works, and I simply no longer need it. (If you’re reading this and you’re interested, feel free to reach out.)
I’m not anti‑technology. I use it, I appreciate it, and in many ways it makes my work possible. But days like today remind me that when we hand over too much authority to automated systems, we lose something essential: nuance, communication, and the simple courtesy of human understanding.
Maybe the real question isn’t why I was suspended. Maybe it’s how we can reclaim a little humanity in a world increasingly run by algorithms.
When Conversations Became Screens and Voicemails
All of this has me thinking about how much our communication habits have shifted. So many of us—me included—lean on texting, voicemail, and quick digital exchanges to stay connected. It’s efficient, yes, but something gets lost in the process.
There was a time when conversations happened face‑to‑face or voice‑to‑voice. I used to pick up the phone to ask a question, check on a friend, or simply chat with someone I cared about. Even calling a business felt personal. We spoke to real people, and there was a shared understanding of respect and patience.
And who could forget dialing 411? You’d ask for a phone number, and the operator—an actual human being—would search through multiple spellings, double‑check details, and do it all with a friendly tone. It was simple, but it made you feel connected to the world around you.
Today, smartphones© are supposed to replace all of that. They’re designed to anticipate our needs, fetch information instantly, and streamline communication. But for anyone who struggles with technology—whether due to disability, age, or simply preference—this shift hasn’t been empowering. It’s isolating. When the tools meant to help become barriers instead, people get left behind.
We talk so much about progress, yet sometimes progress forgets the people who still need a human voice on the other end of the line.
When “Progress” Leaves People Behind
Let me take this step further—and make it personal.
My brother Gary, whom I’ve written about many times, has faced a cascade of medical challenges this past year. Layered on top of that is the sudden loss of our brother Joel—four years younger than Gary, four years older than me. Joel wasn’t just a sibling; he was Gary’s lifeline. He understood Gary’s medical needs, his personality, his routines, and he had the local connections on the West Coast that made navigating life a little easier for him.
With Joel gone, I’ve stepped in as best I can. But stepping in from across the country is not the same as standing beside someone. I’m constantly searching for resources, trying to piece together a support system that should already exist.
Gary has spent nearly every weekend in the hospital in the Laguna Woods area. Each admission brings a new set of questions and rarely has any clear answers. One visit ends with “no diagnosis,” the next with a completely different diagnosis. They send him home—83 years old, hard of hearing—with a stack of instructions and a list of medications that seem to change every time. He may be cognitively sharp, but the sheer volume of information is overwhelming. And with his wife facing her own cognitive challenges, he returns home without the support he needs. Inevitably, he ends up back in the hospital.
This is the reality we don’t talk about enough: our society is not prepared for people living into their 80s, 90s, and beyond without a built‑in support system. Gary has people who love him deeply, but none of us live in his community. We are scattered across the country, trying to help from afar.
Technology has never been Gary’s friend. Even decades ago, when he bought his first Apple computer, he chose it because it promised simplicity. But simplicity has given way to complexity. Today, “support” means navigating a Genius Bar—if you can get there, if you can hear in the noise, if you can process the rapid‑fire explanations. For someone like Gary, that’s not support. It’s a barrier.
What feels intuitive to one person can be impossibly confusing to another. And instead of building bridges, we’ve allowed algorithms to become gatekeepers. We let automated systems speak for us, decide for us, and sometimes misjudge us—without context, compassion, or correction.
This isn’t just about technology. It’s about the widening gap between those who can keep up and those who are left behind. And it’s about the human cost of pretending that digital solutions can replace human connection.
The Answer Is Not…
The answer is not as simple as “just move him.”
Yes, on paper, Gary could relocate to live near one of us—his adult children or me. But real life isn’t lived on paper. He has called Southern California home for more than three decades. His body doesn’t tolerate cold, snow, or ice. And moving an 83‑year‑old man with complex medical needs isn’t a tidy checklist. It means selling his condo, packing up a lifetime of belongings (and his wife’s), rebuilding an entire medical team, and uprooting the fragile routines that keep him grounded.
And let’s be honest: if it were you, would you want your family to force you to move simply because the system around you is failing?
Gary is far from alone. Countless older adults are caught in this same impossible gap—too independent to be placed somewhere, too vulnerable to be left without support, and too far from family to receive the hands‑on help they deserve.
Every time Gary is discharged from the hospital, he’s promised visiting nurses who will ensure he’s set up safely and has the resources to live independently. But the promises are inconsistent. Some days they arrive. Some days they don’t. Some days they show up without knowing why they’re there at all. The system is so automated, so dependent on digital instructions, that when the human caregiver arrives without the “right” data, they’re unable to act. We’ve built a healthcare structure where compassion is present, but functionality is missing.
So today, my list is long.
- I need to find someone who can help Gary update his medical and financial directives—shifting responsibilities from Joel’s name to someone he trusts now.
- I need to search for a part‑time caregiver who can help him manage prescriptions, meals, and daily living—someone affordable, because Social Security is his only steady income.
- I need to help ease his anxiety so he can reclaim some sense of peace and autonomy.
And the question that sits heavy on my chest is: Where do I begin?
#yesican Coaching with Karen
4 January 2026 Right or Left Foot
Stepping FORWARD
2026 is already humming with purpose and possibility, and we’re only a few days in. At newclevelandradio.net, the year has opened with two remarkable conversations—each one reminding me why storytelling, vulnerability, and shared wisdom matter so deeply.
Friday, January 2nd brought a profoundly meaningful recording with Kim Scharnberg as we honored the life and legacy of my brother, Joel Moss, through Where the Music Never Dies. This project continues to be part of my own healing journey—an exploration of grief, love, memory, and the ways music keeps us connected long after someone is gone.
Watch here: https://youtu.be/pVORoajSqTM
Just before that conversation, I had an unexpected moment of clarity. I realized that podcasting could become a powerful extension of my Life Coaching practice—not just interviews, but guided storytelling sessions where you become the guest host of your own transformation. When clients speak their truth out loud, something shifts. Honesty deepens. Vulnerability becomes strength. And the path toward the life they want becomes clearer.
This year, I’m opening that opportunity to anyone ready to move forward and willing to let their journey inspire others. If that speaks to you, reach out: kh.yesican1@gmail.com
Then, on Saturday, January 3rd, Elise Marie Collins and Podmatch.com introduced us to the extraordinary David McNally. Nearly 80 and radiating youthful energy, David reminded us that age is merely chronological—not a limitation, not an excuse, and certainly not a reason to retreat into the proverbial rocking chair.
At 72, already accomplished in both career and life, David chose to go back to college. He could have audited classes for free, but he opted to pursue a full degree simply because he wanted to. That alone is a lesson in optimism and agency.
Listen here: https://youtu.be/UByP_9KShfY
David also spoke candidly about grief—having lost two wives, one to cancer and one to Alzheimer’s—and yet he continues to live fully, intentionally, and joyfully. His message was simple and powerful: we can complain about the world, or we can look for one amazing thing each day. If we look closely enough, the sparkle is always there.
Today is Sunday, and while I’m not recording, it’s not for religious reasons—just a moment to breathe before another week of meaningful conversations. I’ll be back on Zoom soon, bringing you more stories that illuminate, challenge, and comfort.
If you’re seeking inspiration, connection, or a spark to begin your own next chapter, stay close. We at newclevelandradio.net are growing, expanding, and deepening our reach through our partnership with Cleveland 13 News:
https://www.cleveland13news.com/
https://newclevelandradio.net/podcasting-with-cleveland-13-news/
Cleveland 13 News is in the midst of a major technology upgrade, and that means exciting things are on the horizon for all of us at newclevelandradio.net. Very soon, you’ll see more live broadcasts, smoother production, and fresh collaborations that amplify the voices and stories our community has grown to cherish.
2026 is already revealing itself as a year of momentum and meaning. So, whether you step into it with your right foot, your left foot, or a little wobble in between, the direction matters far more than the choreography. Forward is forward—and that’s exactly where we’re headed.
#yesican Coaching with Karen
3 January 2026
A Visit That Feels Like Coming Home
On Tuesday, our youngest son drove in to spend the last days of 2025 — and the first moments of 2026 — with us before heading back to work. Every time he walks through the door, there’s a familiar comfort that settles in, as if the years fold in on themselves. After all, he spent much of his young adulthood here, building his career and figuring out who he wanted to become. A part of me still feels like he belongs in his childhood room.
Of course, that room hasn’t grown the way he has. At 6-foot-2, he’s long outgrown the tiny space with the slanted ceiling — the one perched above the garage, forever the coldest room in winter and the hottest in summer. Yet his name is still on the door, a quiet reminder that no matter how far he travels or how much he evolves, this will always be home.
When Love Doesn’t Need a Perfect Moment
My eldest had hoped that a rare lull in his workload might let him join us on New Year’s Day. But life as a corporate attorney doesn’t pause for holidays, and once again he found himself buried under deadlines instead of blankets on our couch. Both of my sons are deeply committed to their careers, and that means our visits don’t always line up the way we wish they would.
Still, we find our ways to connect — in texts, in calls, in those small but meaningful check-ins that remind us we’re stitched together no matter the miles or the schedules. Our bond doesn’t depend on photos with Facebook-perfect smiles. I don’t need proof for the world, and I certainly don’t need it for myself. The love is real, steady, and present, even when we aren’t in the same room.
The Gift of Two Men Who Shaped Me
As this new year begins, I’ve found myself reflecting on just how fortunate I am. At 75, I still share my life with my partner, my steady companion, my Rich. On February 4th, we’ll celebrate 42 years of marriage — a milestone that always arrives with a bittersweet echo. It’s also the day my father left this world, 22 years ago.
There’s a tinge of sadness in that overlap, of course, but there’s also a quiet beauty. These two men — my husband and my dad — both pushed me, in their own ways, to become the best version of myself. Their influence is woven into who I am.
My dad, though, had one flaw I loved to tease him about even now: he insisted that writing belonged to him and my brothers. More than once, he told me to leave the words to “the real writers.” And when I was younger (much younger), I tried to imitate their poetic style. They had rhythm; I had… well, rhymes like spoon and moon. Charming, maybe. Cheesy, absolutely.
But life has a way of revealing our gifts when we least expect it. At my dad’s funeral, someone asked if I wanted to speak. What they didn’t know was that I had already written something — a small piece, just for me. I don’t think I kept it, but I remember how it felt to read it aloud. Something opened. The words flowed because they were rooted in love, memory, and truth.
Afterward, my brother Joel looked at me with surprise and said, “Who are you? Did you know you have a talent for words?” That moment changed me. It was as if my father had passed the torch — from Words by Harmon to Words for Karen.
And so, I write. I write to remember. I write to heal. I write because the men who shaped me — one gone, one still by my side — believed in the woman I continue to become.
Stepping Into a New Purpose for 2026
As I look ahead, 2026 feels different. It carries a new purpose for me — a deeper calling to use my words to guide others. I’ve been doing this for years through podcasting, blogging, and Life Coaching, but this year I’m taking it further. I’m inviting others to step into vulnerability and share their Life Coaching goals out loud through podcast conversations. Whether it’s a single episode or an ongoing series, the act of speaking our intentions can be transformative.
There’s something powerful that happens when we write down our thoughts and then give them a voice. They shift from ideas floating in our minds to pivotal truths that help us grow into who we want to become.
Of course, in a world that loves to judge, stepping out of our comfort zone — or even our discomfort zone — isn’t easy. But if the last several years have taught me anything, it’s this: true happiness begins within. When we’re brave enough to seek it, name it, and let it out into the world, we become some of the luckiest people alive.
#yesican Coaching with Karen
2 January 2026
Sitting here in my office–my little sanctuary of microphones, memories, and intention—I’m preparing to record the first of many stories about my brother Joel. As I’ll share in the opening of Where the Music Never Dies, this series is part of my grief journey, a path I hope will lead me toward comfort, clarity, and the kind of healing that only storytelling can offer.
When the idea first came to me—to create an ongoing space where others could share their memories of Joel—I hesitated. A few people questioned the timing, the purpose, the emotional weight of it all. So, I tucked it away for a while. But Joel had a way of nudging me toward my truth, and I could almost hear him saying, “If you need this, do it.” And so, I am.
I chose to begin in 2026, after spending the last three months revisiting the memories that shaped us—our childhood, our shared humor, and especially the time we spent together caring for our mother in her final months. Her illness, painful as it was, gave Joel and me a rare gift: the chance to know each other as adults, not just siblings. I’ll never forget the day of her funeral when Joel quietly said, “We’re orphans now.” Yet in that moment, something shifted. The bond between Joel, Gary, and me deepened into a relationship rooted in love, honesty, and mutual care.
Just as my mother gave us that gift, Joel has given me another. In his absence, my relationship with Gary has grown into something steady and essential. We have become each other’s person, and that is no small blessing.
When my mother passed in 2016, I created a podcast with my friend and psychotherapist, Alicia Mindlin. It wasn’t about my mother specifically, but it marked the beginning of my wellness journey through loss. Since then, the podcasts I’ve hosted and produced have evolved into spaces where storytelling and vulnerability meet—where my guests and I face life’s challenges together, openly and without pretense.
A few years ago, a Facebook post from a high school friend—sharing her heartbreak after losing her husband—reminded me how universal grief is, and how deeply we need to talk about it. That moment sparked GRIEF BELIEF, our first series featuring a panel of grief and life specialists. That project has now grown into our newest podcast, Find Your Way, hosted by Alison Peña and Kristy Anderson, with guest Scott Martin joining us on Monday, January 19th.
Where the Music Never Dies will be something different—something deeply personal. It will also become a concept I offer to my coaching clients, because storytelling has a way of revealing truths we didn’t know we were ready to face. This isn’t psychotherapy or counseling. It’s life coaching elevated through narrative—your stories, my stories, our stories—shared as pathways toward wellness.
And today, I begin.
#yesican Coaching with Karen
1 Janaury 2026 – A podcast – The Journey of Personal Grief – Stories of My Brother Joel
Tomorrow, January 2, 2026, I begin a deeply personal—and public—journey of sharing stories about my brother, Joel. His sudden passing in September still feels unreal. I find myself reaching for him, expecting his voice, his presence, his humor… and then remembering he is no longer here.
What I do know is that Joel touched countless lives in his 79 years, and there is so much about him that I never had the chance to witness firsthand. As I move through my own grief, I want to gather those stories—the pieces of him that live in the memories of others.
Many of you who follow my podcasts and blogs know that Joel spent the last two decades of his life at Caffè Lena in Saratoga Springs, a place where the music truly never dies. It’s a space rooted in Lena Spencer’s vision from 1960, now home to a thriving music school and a legacy that continues to inspire generations.
Joel was a storyteller, though a modest one. When he spoke about the artists he worked with across music, film, and Broadway, the names—Paul, Michael, Bob, Patti, Bonnie—floated by as if they were simply neighbors or old friends. To him, they were just people. To the world, they were icons.
Now, the people whose lives he touched will help fill in the missing chapters of his story for me.
This new series, Where the Music Never Dies, takes its name from the musical piece written by Joel Moss and Peter Davis—a tribute to the enduring spirit of Lena Spencer and the community she built.
If you would like to be part of this ongoing project, I would be honored to hear from you.
Please reach out to newclevelandradio@gmail.com.
Recording begins tomorrow, January 2, 2026, with our first guest, Kim Scharnberg—an American composer, arranger, orchestrator, record producer, and conductor.
Your stories will help keep Joel’s light alive.
#yesican Coaching with Karen
1 January 2026
HAPPY DAY/NEW YEAR from YES ICAN COACHING with Karen
The calendar on my computer tells me it’s January 1, 2026—a new day and a new year. Yet waking up this morning felt just like any other: the familiar urge to use the bathroom and then slip back into my warm, cozy bed.
The truth is that the date itself isn’t what makes today magical. The magic lies in the simple fact that I am here, alive, and given another chance to show up as the best version of myself.
Life’s magic isn’t always sparkles and spectacle. Sometimes it’s confusing, fleeting, or downright disorienting—now you see it, now you don’t. Sometimes it’s more “What just happened?” than “Ta-da!”
CELEBRATIONS
My husband and I have never been big on celebrating commercial holidays or even the personal ones—birthdays, anniversaries, all the dates that are supposed to feel important. Instead, we live by a quieter code: offering each other friendship, kindness, and love every single day. That, to us, is the real gift.
GIFT not WRAPPED UP with a BOW
Yesterday, I received a different kind of gift—one from my two sons. They are so alike in some ways and so different in others, but each expresses love in his own unique language. Their gestures, subtle and heartfelt, wrapped around me like virtual arms despite the miles between us.
I felt lucky. And that’s not a feeling I’ve always allowed myself to claim. For years, my own inner demons—those old memories, those lingering words—tried to convince me otherwise.
THOUGHTS
We all carry these demons. They’re born from moments that left a mark, from comments that stuck, from experiences that still echo. But when we choose mindfulness, we can soften their grip. We can transform those bad vibes into something gentler, something healing. Choice is one of the most powerful tools we have as humans, and when we use it intentionally, we move closer to our best selves.
MINDFULNESS
Mindfulness gives us a way to interrupt the intrusive thoughts that try to take over. It creates a pause—a space where we can breathe, refocus, and gently guide ourselves back to steadier ground. It’s not easy, and it’s not instant. It takes practice, patience, and personal tools.
We’ve all heard the phrase “just breathe.” And yes, if we’re alive, we’re breathing. But mindful breathing is different. It’s the moment we become aware of our breath, feel it move through us, and allows it to carry tension out of our bodies. That awareness releases toxicity and invites calm.
Here are a few tools I use personally and share with my clients:
- Notice the thought without judgment. Label it as simply a thought—something you can manage.
- Return to your breath. Feel each inhale and exhale. Let your breath shift your mindset.
- Ground yourself with the 5-4-3-2-1 technique, engaging all five senses:
- Name five things you see
- Identify four things you touch
- Notice three things you hear
- Sense two things you smell
- Name one thing you can taste
THE WHY
Why does this work? Because it pulls you out of the swirl of uncomfortable thoughts and anchors you in the present moment. Your senses become allies instead of agitators. Your nervous system settles. And once you’re grounded, you can make choices that truly serve you.
Intrusive thoughts are part of being human. They don’t define you, and they don’t have to mean anything. Often, they’re just the brain sorting through old information and stimuli from your life’s journey. You may not be able to simply “shake them off,” but you can learn to calm and disarm them.
Mindfulness won’t erase the maze of life, but it will help you navigate it. When you feel lost, overwhelmed, or unsure of the way out, pausing to observe—really observe—your situation can illuminate the path forward.
A new year doesn’t magically change us. But each new day gives us another chance to choose presence, compassion, and clarity. And that, in itself, is a kind of magic.
#yesican Coaching with Karen
D5 Creation