Hi Friends,
 
It’s been a long time since you’ve heard from me.  The last blog post I wrote was right after our daughter, Jessica, graduated from high school which was an exciting time in our lives.  It felt like the future was full of possibilities, a vast contrast to today’s freaky reality show of Covid-19. I thought it would be a good time to check-in to find out how you are coping.
 
How are you all doing? What are you doing to keep your kids occupied and yourself sane?
 
I am happy to report we are all well.  I count my blessings for having both kids at home, safe and sound, and Jörg still employed.  As we are seeing, some smaller enterprises have gone bust leaving family and friends unemployed.  It is devastating, to say the least.
 
As horrible as this situation is, I do see a few silver linings: one is the surge of kindness.  In the UK, more than 700,000 volunteers showed up to help NHS with homecooked meals. Families are spending more time together; Some people are finding new creative outlets; And, we are re-discovering our values.
 
It is not time to build walls but to come together as a community.  
 
In March, Canadians started a trend called caremongering, which is an online community effort to give support, help, and kindness to anyone who needs it.  The volunteer service has neighbors offering a variety of services such as shopping or online counseling to help each other deal with this crisis. 
 
Younger neighbors are shopping for the elderly.  People are sewing face masks for the overwhelmed medical workers who are our real heroes in this saga.  Others are putting together care packages and leaving them out for the homeless.  
 
Caremongering is compassion in motion, the opposite of scaremongering which is the spread of frightening news.  
 
Ironically, while we are social distancing—which a coaching colleague appropriately re-named it ‘physical distancing’-- we are also now acknowledging and caring for our neighbor.
​
Before I even heard of the word caremonerging, I offered online English tutoring to my neighbors and Facebook community as soon as we went into semi-lockdown.  So far, lots of thanks but no takers because Easter school holidays.  

We have all heard the stories of people hording toilet paper and being rude to those in the service industries who still are working to keep society functioning.   I guess a crisis brings out the worst in the fearful and the best the optimists.
 
Another positive thing I’ve noticed is more people talking walks in the forest.  The other day I saw dozens of young families flocking in the woods; kids were delighting in playing hide-and-go-seek behind trees instead of huddling in front of a screen.  Mother Nature is calling us to conform to her ways.  

As we head into Easter, it is a reminder that nature has seasons of death and rebirth.  Our economy has died for now, but what will resurge as a result?

As corny as it seems, I just want to close with this passage I read in my daily devotional that seem so fitting and obvious, but it needs to be repeated; it is known as the Golden Rule: Whatever you want people to do for you, do the same for them… (Matthew 7:12)
​
I keep many of you in my thoughts and prayers, especially those who might be more vulnerable.  Please hit return and send me a message letting me know how you are managing.

Be safe and well.  Love, Paula

​Hi Friends,
 
I hope you are enjoying your summer.  Here in Germany, we’ve been having a heat wave since April, more or less.  For the record, I kind of like it because it reminds me of the hot summers I experienced as a child in Sacramento.
 
Good News
I've got good news to report: Our 19-year-old daughter Jessica graduated from high school and passed her abitur exams!  Her next big step journey is just days away.
 
Believe me, it was a long journey for all of us and we are so proud of her.  At times, we were uncertain if she were adept enough to climb the ladder of the German school system, which is demanding for most students.  But with hard work and persistence, she over came her own doubts.
 
Not All School Systems Are Created Equally
Before I had children, I had thought the primary educational years would be just baking cupcakes and attending PTA meetings, or, at least, the more hands-off approach to learning that my parents espoused.  The demand for kids to excel in education has changed dramatically in the last 20 years, becoming more trying for the teachers, parents, and pupils.  I’d even say this is a worldwide trend.
 
When Jessica entered school, I found myself lost in the corridors of a byzantine pedagogical structure that seemed so regimented.  One thing I learned about the German school system that surprised me was that in the fourth grade, teachers decide which students will attend one of the three levels of high school.  The gymnasium level is the highest where the graduates obtain their abitur degree and then move on to university.  This decision is based on grades and oral participation.  Late bloomers who aren’t on the ball get labeled early and put into lower level schools.  Artistic and musical talents are generally not regarded. 
 
Knowing that the way into university meant having that abitur degree, we were anxious about Jessica’s academic success.  God forbid our child miss the education bullet train.  
 
By the second grade Jessica declared, “I will never do my abitur exam or go to gymnasium.  I just won’t do it, so don’t ever ask.”  Stunned with her sudden dislike of school, I swallowed hard and asked why.  
 
“Because I don’t want to. It’s too difficult,” she replied. Those words echoed through the years like a biting wind.  
 
When warning signs signaled that Jessica was having learning issues, I shifted into first gear, like a typical helicopter parent hovering over to fix the problem.

Dealing With Dyslexia
We soon discovered that Jessica had ADHD and dyslexia.  Spelling became a mixed bag of letters and sounds that rang a loud discord.  Homework became a battlefield.  Tutors by the dozen were constant fixtures in our homes. Yet, we were consistent in our efforts in supporting her.  It is important for kids to know that their parents are behind them 100%.   
 
In the years we were living in Washington D.C., many of Jessica’s middle school classmates already had lofty goals of attending to well-known universities after high school. These girls were a positive influence and gave her a new perspective. 
​
We moved back to Germany when Jessica entered grade 9.  She set her sights on getting into gymnasium although it was challenging because of her dyslexia, which caused spelling and reading problems in both languages. Somehow, we all pushed through and Jessica became eligible to take the abitur exams.
 
In January this year, one of Jessica’s teachers discouraged her from taking the abitur exams. Better to keep the aim low than to face failure.  But a deep, burning ambition to succeed fueled Jessica’s fire like a parched landscape.  She got organized and hit the books.  Tenacity became her middle name.  
 
When she passed, we literally jumped for joy.  Jessica’s confidence soared to new heights like a young bird in flight.
 
At her Abi-Ball, a formal party the graduates put on for their families and teachers, Jessica’s leadership skills shined: Not only did she help organize the event, but she choreographed all the dances and was one of the three masters’ of ceremony.  The girl who claimed that she would never complete her abitur degree made a stellar end performance winning the praise “the student who surprised us and bloomed the most” from her teacher.  

So what’s next for her? This Saturday, Jessica and I fly to Orlando, FL, to settle her into her dorm room where she will start work as a German cultural representative for Disney World Epcot Center.   It feels like a magical moment is about to begin.
 
Over To You
How's your summer coming along?  I’d love to hear about your life, thoughts and opinions.  Leave a comment below.
 
 
 
 
 

The Unbearable Lightness of Being in Lockdown.
 
Hi Friends,
 
Just checking in again and wondering how you are managing under week five of lockdown.
 
I had a bit of a wobble last week.  
 
The first three weeks of lockdown for our family went fairly well.  We all pitched in to do our chores, had fun some nights playing games, and enjoyed meals together.  
 
Then the tides changed.  
 
Easter holidays soon arrived, which meant our son doesn’t have much school work.  Hence, both kids have little to do-- no job for Jessica and no schoolwork for Sean.  As a consequence, they watched TV until the wee hours of the morning and finally arising in the late afternoons to do their chores.
 
This schedule started to grate on my nerves.  I yelled to get them up earlier, but to no avail.  
 
I was miffed because I've been getting up at 6 a.m. every work day with Jörg to make his coffee and pack his lunch.  To maintain a routine and keep a standard of cleanliness, I’d end up doing the kids’ laundry and other chores plus a multitude my own responsibilities--including cooking full meals for five people. (Jessi’s boyfriend stays here often.  He is a calming buffer among us).  Feeding these idle bodies often sends me to stores where the corona virus may lurk, an unwanted anxiety. 
 
One day Sean woke up late for a doctor’s appointment and acted nonchalant about it.  I felt under pressure to get us there on time while being angry at myself for forgetting our face masks and disinfection wipes.  He made an inconsiderate remark, as self-absorbed teenagers often do, about how being late did not matter. 
 
To my mind, he demonstrated a complete lack of understanding for the seriousness of this COVID-19 crisis and for how our medical professionals risk their lives to treat patients. I took his offhand remark to mean that the doctor has nothing better to do than wait for us.  True, he is only 15-years-old, but a dumb comment is a dumb comment.
 
Somehow it released the silent stress of living in lockdown, like the boiling magma of a once dormant volcano. My anger finally erupted.  Perhaps, my anger was a mixed bag of many feelings both current and past.  Whatever the reason, I spewed my fury hard and fast, yelling at the top of my lungs. I was mad as hell and wasn't going to take it any more.
 
The odd thing was that I did not even feel bad about my unchecked frustration.  The purgation of it, the sweet release of just letting it go. I felt like I my emotional boundaries had been violated.  
 
What I am finding is I have to make new boundary rules for myself and for the family, kind of re-writing theme day by day.  We had no blueprint for what a home office should look like during lockdown or for making our house a part-time classroom, or for how to deal with all the exhausting emotions associated with it.  
 
I am sure sociologists, economists, psychologists and the like will be studying this period and the effects for decades to come.
 
In Germany last week, small businesses re-opened and this week hairdressers will back in business (thank God!).  Also, some schools, including Sean's, will resume but not all pupils will return to the classroom.  It depends on the state, school, and class.

Starting today,  the government says we now must wear face masks when shopping, on public transportation, and at the doctor’s office.  To be honest, today I made a homemade mask and after putting it on, I felt like crying.  I don't like the feel of this new normal.
 
We don’t know the knockoff effects of the lockdown for the future.  I sympathise for those who lost their jobs and want to go back to work.  I do know that our lives before this crisis will never be the same.  We will slowly figure out what the ‘new normal’ looks like in months to come.
 
But for right now, we are just hanging like monkeys on a bar.
 
I hope all are doing well and keeping sane.  Please leave a comment. I'd love to hear from you.

Best regards, Paula

​ 
The other day in the mail I got some sad news: a lady whom I met in Hong Kong 22 years ago had died. This is a short story on making an acquaintance that lasted a lifetime—something that is rare today.
 
In 1996 I was living and working in Tokyo, Japan as an English teacher.  Due to some bureaucratic reason, I had to go on a short trip to Hong Kong to obtain a Japanese working visa.  I had two days free so I took a city tour through Hong Kong. While I was standing in line waiting for the tourist bus, I started chatting with a German woman named Hildegard and her Italian husband, Mateo.  

After the tour, we went out for a meal and hung out together the rest of the day. I never saw them again after that but we exchanged mailing addresses.
 
Over the years Hildegard and I became pen pals.  We wrote each other letters about four times a year.  Mind you this was before email became popular.  We met just before I became engaged to Joerg.  I had no idea that a few years later I would be living in Germany. 
 
Through her letters I learned a lot about her life and family.  She got to know me on a personal level through detailed letters about the intimacies of my own life.  She was a safe person for me to confide in because I never saw her face to face. She wrote back with a sympathetic note letting me know that she understood me. 
 
Even when email and Facebook became popular, Hildegard and I still exchanged letters, in English, mostly because she refused to buy a computer: she didn’t feel the need to master a computer as long as the postman still walked his beat.  Her daughter, Patricia, who lives in Italy, contacted me once via Facebook to show pictures of her mother on holiday in Italy. I encouraged her to get a computer as writing letters seemed so outdated.  But she was steadfast in her decision.  
 
Christmas cards came and went.  This year instead of a letter, I sent her a postcard from Salzburg and the annual Christmas card with my children’s photos. A few years ago her husband Mateo died. I actually never knew how old Hildegard was, the only visual I have of her is standing at the bus stop looking vital and healthy, her face still frozen in time.
 
When I saw the letter addressed from Patricia in Italy, my heart dropped.  I knew Hildegard had died.  Probably the only pen pal alive on earth was now gone.  In today’s world of distracting phone texts and ostensibly urgent Instagrams, I probably wouldn’t gaze in the eyes of a stranger nor engage in a conversation.  It just feels too awkward.  
 
Back in the day, small talk with the guy or gal sitting next to me on plane was common, perhaps even expected, but not any more.  Most people shy away from random chitchat with  headphones over their ears and eyes glued to a mini screen. 
 
Over the years I’ve met so many people by chance, some of whom even who’ve changed the course of my life (a great story for another time), and became friends through letters, email or Facebook.  The art of letter writing has passed.  I miss the opportunity of getting to know someone through words, unleashing my soul to an empathic listener, even one that I had only physically seen once.  
 
I even miss the opportunity of chance acquaintances through no work of my own other than just being at the right place.  In social media, I have to be careful about what I say or it could be misread.  A reader could easily insult me with 140-character tweet, killing the desire to even post anything.  My pen pals never had the audacity to tear me down.  It was a mutual exchange of empathy.  
 
I love writing letters, spilling out my thoughts on paper.  I used to write eight to ten pages, front and back, long scripted letters to friends.  The words just flowed.  I still pen a few detailed emails to a few friends.  I’ve turned to blogging to communicate to a mass group of people.  
 
I admit that I’ve been  writing more private messages to friends on Facebook.  I don’t really like Facebook messenger or writing longer notes on social media, but it is the only way I can reach those who don’t read emails any longer, especially the younger generation.
 
To close, I want to dedicate this blog to Hildegard.  Thank you, Hildegard, for being a long-term correspondent and a dedicated reader.
 
Over To You
 
Have you ever had a pen-pal?  What was that relationship like for you?
 
I’d love to hear from you. Hit the comment button below and tell me what you think.  

 How do you live well into your 90's?

The best way to answer that question is to take a retrospective look into the life of someone who has done it.   
 
This is the life story of a remarkable matriarch, Patricia Hoff, mother of eight, grandmother of 17, great-grandmother of 19, and a mother-like figure to many.  She happens to be my mother whose celebration of life was held in January and attended by over 70 friends and family. She was a living example of how to live a fulfilled life even through tragedy.  She lived until the age of 93.   Here’s how she did it.
 
1. Start by living authentically
If you speak with enough people about Patricia Hoff, a consistent picture emerges: a highly verbal and honest woman, a fabulous communicator, a charmer, a large personality whose life’s arc encompassed change, growth, and, yes, heartache in her 93 years.
 
2. Make the best of your education
My mother received master’s degree, so to speak, in living.  She often put it in dramatic musical terms: she lived a C above high C.  That fundamental education from St Paul’s High School in San Francisco was just the starting point.  When my father converted to Catholicism at her behest, they both perhaps bit off more than they could chew with a family of eight children, all happy accidents for following the conventions of the church.  That strict adherence to Catholic rules spawned a rebellion in her later years, out of a strong reaction to the obedience she gave blindly to a system that did all the thinking for her. 
 
3. Be defiant and make your own rules
She’d often insist: “Nobody’s going to own me anymore,” a defiant proclamation of freedom.  She had played the part of a dutiful wife and mother until my father’s death in 1989 and our brother Kenny’s passing five years later.  Though she’d already experienced tragedy when my sister Rosemary succumbed to leukemia in the early sixties, it was Kenny’s death that transformed her more abruptly.  
 
4. Gain freedom by losing your religion
This self-examination began to solidify her new-age thinking, which was a mix of Christian principle and a belief in reincarnation and karma.  She truly believed that we all have a life lesson and we return again and again until we get it right, a kind of Buddhist-Hindu thinking sans yoga or mediation (she hated exercise).  She told me that even if there were a magic pill to stop AIDS, she would not give it to Kenny because he needed to return to Earth at a later time to learn new lessons--and she would be in his new life story again but in a different role.
 
5. Find a good mentor
 The pillars of my mother’s faith had been cracked, but her personality remained largely unaltered.  She found true independence living alone and sought to understand more of the world, more of herself, drawing on an intellectual account first stocked by Dr. David Warren, a junior college humanities instructor who proved to be, I believe, her biggest inspiration.  
 
6. Always be open-minded at every stage of life
Concerning this period, the early 1970s, she wrote the following in an email to me three decades later: “How could anyone remain in a box?  The lid sprung open and I jumped out.  Eager learner, I exposed myself to all thoughts: radical, religious, the political and the outrageous.  My life took many turns, good and bad, but there was always a lesson there, like it or not.” 
 
7. Educate yourself through traveling
Her curiosity, always a strong point, blossomed magnificently.  She travelled extensively through Europe, Asia and Africa, visiting her beloved Ireland twelve times.  Now the woman who could talk to anyone found common ground with everyone.  
 
8. Never stop seeking to find your voice even in your later years
Where many of us peak in our forties and fifties, Patt Hoff seemed to find her true voice, the easy confidence and sense of self, in her seventies and eighties. Her broad experience, gift of communication and ability to focus and listen enabled an ability to connect with anybody, from a bus stop stranger to fellow passengers on a cruise.  
 
9. Be curious about other people
Oh, what a delight to see her in action.  I remember the night she met my girlfriend Virginia’s mother, Ginny.  Ginny is a shy, private woman, but my ever-ebullient mother opened her like a can of butterflies. “Do you read, Ginny?  What do you like to read?  Tell me about your favorite books.”  Later on the phone Virginia and I laughed with glee and amazement how Patt got to the heart of Ginny as no other could.  Patt’s humanity, this acute intuition into others, might have been her biggest strength.
 
10. Have a motto to live by
She was a worldly woman at home in any crowd. Some of her famous quotations still ring in my ear:

• Reach for the stars.  You may get the moon.

• You must stoop to conquer. 

• Mocking is catching.

• Don’t fly in the face of God. 

• And of course: Onward ever, backward never.

 
11. Be resourceful 
The most remarkable thing about my mother is that the whole time I was growing up she served the family nothing but leftovers.  The original meal has never been found.  Was the role of cook, house-keeper and solicitous nurturer exactly right for her?  I’d answer that this way: she did the best she could in overwhelming circumstances, and all of us grew up happy and healthy.  The part of mentor, matriarch and confidante developed later when we matured enough to appreciate what she had become, Bon Bon, the name her grandchildren called her, with the gentle touch.
 
 12. Always be a comfort to others
My sister Jeanne describes it this way: “She had the gift of comfort, the gift of praise, whatever the occasion called for.”
 
13. Be patient and live in the now 
My sister Dolores recalls, “She was just content to be waiting, people watching. She actually enjoyed the waiting time, acknowledging the fresh air, the scenery, the people, the moment, catching her breath, it was all part of the outing.”  Living in 
the moment before it became a new-age trend.
 
14. Define your dignity by blessing others
Her final years at Emily’s Guest House were mellow.  She prayed with Dolores and reconverted to Christianity, back to a salvation and belief she probably never truly abandoned.  This was a peaceful soul who had done everything she needed in do, having completed a full life by any measure.  In her last months she maintained a dignified stoicism, a self-composure recalling one of her favorite adages: “Laugh and the world laughs with you.  Cry and you cry alone.” 
 
15. Have no regrets
Tears do not feel appropriate today.  She told us to laugh and play songs at her funeral. So mother, Patricia, Bon Bon, you onward-ever soul, as you view us from the great beyond, or even as a reincarnated fly on the wall, may you find this event today a rollicking good time.   
 
This eulogy was written and delivered by my brother, Mike Hoff, with help from me and my siblings.

Over To You:  I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions.  Hit the comment box and leave me a message.
 
 
 
 

Hi Friends,
It’s been a long time since you’ve heard from me.  Last October my mother passed. As a family, we decided to hold the celebration of life memorial in January in order for family members far and wide to find time to attend.  My emotions vacillated from the sadness of loosing her to the relief of knowing that she died peacefully surrounded by family.  At times I felt like an emotional volleyball, and I couldn’t produce a single word until now.
 
I also had to ask myself whether I wanted to continue the task of producing a blog.  Here’s the answer:  I’ve always loved writing letters and had many pen pals.  Gone are the days of opening the mailbox with great anticipation of receiving a letter, the kind of personal correspondence that says, “you matter.”  Back in the day, I’d tear open the envelope, read the letter with a thumping heart, and then rush to respond, to keep the lifeline open.
 
This blog is a substitute for the old-fashion pen and paper.   I count friends and family all over the world.  Blogging is the best way to keep everybody abreast of my thoughts and experiences.  As you have read from past blogs, I especially like narratives that nourish the mind, body, and soul. 
 
Social media is great for sharing photos, updates and finding old friends, but it doesn’t get to the heart and soul of the person.  Photos of my meal and family vacations can’t replace the more introspective stories behind the picture.  It’s in meaning of life and the raw experience of it that makes a story great.  I like to share what the bigger and smaller pictures of life mean to me.  And I’d love to share yours too.
 
I know not everyone has a passion for the art of writing.  I don’t expect long drafted missives in return.  But if a particular story moves you, please make a comment.  I’d love to hear from you.  If you have a special story you want to share—something that is inspiring, please let me know.  I am open for guest posting or writing your story.  Interviews are always interesting to read.
 
By the way, what is it that you like to read in a blog?  You, the reader, are the reason I write this blog.  Your thoughts are welcome and appreciated.
 
This is a journey.  I’m glad you are along for the ride.  I will blog at least one or twice a month.  I also updated my website.  I keep it under that name Destination Life Coaching but that might change one day.  I created the blog on a free website called Weebly.  I’ll probably move it to Wordpress next year.  Since I manage the website without help of a professional (please note, my brother Mike Hoff is my editor to whom I owe a great deal), there’s a learning curve for me, and I’m in no rush to switch website hosts. 
 
Please check your promotions box and as well as the spam folder for my blog.  Once you move it to your inbox, it will show up not as spam.
 
Talk to you soon.  Love, Paula