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Category: NEXT: An Empowerment Series

Attorney and life coach Susan Koenig guides, supports, and inspires you on the journey of creating a life you love.

NEXT: An Empowerment Series

Attorney and life coach Susan Koenig guides, supports, and inspires you on the journey of creating a life you love.

Complicated Confirmation

I dress in my Sunday best. I arrive in time to take a seat next to her mother and grandmother.  I tuck the narrow gold satin ribbon into the page for hymn #483. Simultaneously I’m an outsider and I am at home. It is confirmation day for young Sophia, whom I have known since she was born. She walks slowly down the aisle. Covering her floor-length red robe is a white cape with a red cross and  “PHILOMENA”  in big block letters of red felt. The organ fills  Saint Cecilia’s Cathedral as the procession of the baptized now prepare to
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Influencer

Flowers on the altar, photos of loved ones, food that was their favorite—Dia de Los Muertos arrives each November 1 and we celebrate the “Day of the Dead” with friends. We honor those we have loved and lost. We take turns sharing stories and memories of those who’ve left this earth, but their impact remains. Tonight my friend Bill will open his latest showing of art. It will include paintings of those he has loved and lost. Among them will be John, my husband who died eight years ago. John was old enough to be Bill’s father. Had John not
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Why Your #METOO Matters

Her dark hair hung over her face as she furiously took notes. She barely spoke the entire semester. But she heard my “Me too.” My lecture that week in my Women and the Law course was on domestic violence. I wanted these future lawyers to have an understanding beyond the legal definition of “credible threat” and which documents to file at the courthouse.    I wanted them to see that “Why didn’t she leave?” was the wrong question. I also wanted to answer it. We argued about the garlic in the guacamole. He backed me up against the kitchen wall.
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Hurt My Child?

I always note the day. Each year on the first Monday of October the United States Supreme Court begins its session. A wave of anxiety annually washes over me as I think of how lives and futures of countless Americans will be changed by decisions placed in the hands of nine people. I have fretted over affirmative action for colleges, reproductive rights for rural women, and how hard the court might make the rules for any sexual harassment victim to get justice. Five years ago, when the freedom to marry for same sex couples case—Obergefell v. Hodges—- was to be
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Cokie

I was sitting in the hospital waiting room. My friend was getting a new hip and I was happy to await the news of a successful surgery. I’d been doing my best to ignore the latest daily bad news of our country running nonstop on the big screen television when my phone alert popped up. “Oh no,” I said aloud to no one. The television suddenly had my full attention. I stood up to read the news ticker at the bottom of the screen—-Breaking News:  Cokie Roberts Dead at 75. I  go weeks without turning on my television in my
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Peggy’s Voice

“My name is Peggy. May I help you?”  “Peggy,” I said, pausing for the surprise little lump in my throat  “I really hope you can.” I was embarrassed by my emotion. Years ago I placed countless calls to cancel my husband’s name on accounts and remove it from many charity mailing lists. That was an understandable time for emotions. But a call to a customer service rep to get your bank password changed?  I was on day three of a quest to solve a series of technological challenges. In my effort to live out my intention to “simplify in September”
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Astonishing Anniversary

I’d had a lot of conversations with Doug over the years. At times understanding his speech was a challenge for me. After a second ask that he repeat himself, I turned to Dave for interpretation. Dave and Kenny, who have been a committed couple for 40 years, are Doug’s home teachers. Doug has Down syndrome.  I first met Doug when he was a little boy. We met at a local community center where, thanks to my junior high teacher Miss McCrae, I had my first introduction to volunteering. Doug is 56 now. He still has those big eyes and, as
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Puppy Love and Loss

“You wait here,” he said. I’m going to go get her.” Jack took off running. I sat on the concrete stoop of the veterinarian’s office, taking in the scenes of life in a small town just outside of Guadalajara. My son had flown from California and I from Nebraska to savor three precious days enjoying the palm trees, plazas, and pico de gallo of Mexico. We got more than we came for. In less than a half hour, Jack returned, dripping in sweat and cradling the little listless pup he’d wrapped in my sweater. He laid her on the glass
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Walking in Their Feet

I knelt on the floor at his feet. He sat in his arm chair, a red pack of Pall Malls and brown quart of beer nearby. We didn’t speak. I tugged away, loosening the leather strings of his heavy work boots, using a fork on the most stubborn knots.  I pulled with all my might, freeing his feet to rest in their thick white socks. It’s one of few fond memories of time with my father. My older siblings tell me Dad was exceptionally intelligent. An intuitive once told me he was horribly abused as a child. He never had
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Celebrating Second Hand

“Can you stay after school?” she asked. As a second grader, home wasn’t an especially happy place to hurry to. Dad’s drinking had worsened over the years and Mom had bigger worries than after school milk and cookies. “We’ll wait until the others are gone,” Sister Leodegard said. I was the teacher’s pet, so I suspected that I might be the recipient of some special privilege that she didn’t want my classmates to see. The hallways eventually emptied and she opened the wooden closet door. She pulled out a woman’s red wool coat. In the 1960s we would have called
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