The STUFF Sisters

The Weight of The World

My younger sister believed in angels. Since her death over 20 years ago I too like to think they exist and that she is now among them.

My younger sister believed in angels. Since her death over 20 years ago I too like to think they exist and that she is now among them. When I see a white feather on the ground or blowing by I like to believe it has fallen from an angel’s wings. That maybe my sister or her winged friends have passed my way.

My parents are both terminal cancer patients. Continue reading “The Weight of The World”

Having Been Here Before

As he told his new oncologist, who smiled, “I already have an incurable lymphoma, what’s one more?” Humor. It’s what Simmonses do. In times of happy and times of sad. We laugh.

I sat there idling in the fast food line, knowing I had felt this way before. I jetted over the guilt of ordering – and, in time, eating – this comfort food with my sister from the burger joint that has been here since our childhoods. Child’s play on the list of emotions I was trying to wrestle.

Strangely, I was feeling that things were settled for just a moment. I dug deeply, and, when I landed on where I had experienced this feeling before, I smiled. Continue reading “Having Been Here Before”

Sanctuary

I feel an overwhelming and powerful inner peace when I am where the ocean meets the land. It is my place of worship. It is my church. It is where Mother Nature is the most accessible to me.

Last week I found myself on a beach in February. A rare occasion for me in the dead of winter. I was there because my father has cancer and there is a new challenge to face. I traveled to be with him when he met with yet another cancer specialist. Something that we have done together as a family many, many times before and in many cities.

I didn’t bring a swimsuit or any of my beach gear. I didn’t plan to be on the beach more than a handful of minutes. I told myself that one long walk was all I needed.

When the time was right, I took my walk and headed “up island” (as it is called by the islanders). I kept my eyes on the water as I walked. I didn’t look around. I just listened and watched the waves. I wanted no distractions.

On my return “down island”, I again kept my head turned to the ocean. I found a spot at the water’s edge and kneeled down. I said what I needed to say. I did my best to lay down my fear, pain, and sadness. Mother Nature and the waves listened.

I continued my walk, slowing heading back to the house. Again, eyes on the water.

The tide came in stronger unexpectedly and I ran onto dry ground. As I did, I turned to look at the low slung dunes. The most beautiful sight was right before my eyes. A crude collection of broken shells hung from barren branches. I had walked past it on my journey North. I must not have been ready to feel it or see it when I began my walk. Only on my return did I discover this special spot.

I felt like I had entered a sanctuary. It was mystical and magical. Built by many, for anyone to share. I just explored it without touching anything. I looked into the branches from all angles. I listened to the sound of the waves and how the wind made some of the shells clatter. I sat down and looked up into the branches. I found a spot where I could see both the hanging shells and the water. I sat still and just took deep healing breaths. Before I stood, I thanked Mother Nature for answering my prayers so quickly.

I walked back to my family.

Casey

Note: Only as I started to see the path that leads off the beach did I remember I had my phone hidden with my shoes near the base of a tree. I grabbed it and ran back to take the photos you see in my post. I was thankful I didn’t have it when I came upon it the first time. I had picked up a few broken shells on my walk, I added them to the branches.

I did sneak back out for a sunset the next evening and one last visit to my special place.

Finding Signs

Thus far, it has been a calm that comes from seeing something with new eyes and in a new way.

Several weeks ago, a friend reached out and used the word I have come to despise.

Cancer.

I read a bit more of what was written, and I set the phone down, screen still bright. I was in a place packed with noise and strangers. A place I had visited only once before. A place where a path was not always apparent. The one thing in this large room that was a constant to me was my sister.

I had been silent for a few minutes, as we were both checking our phones and grabbing handheld lunches. My quiet must have touched her as different, as she asked, “What is it?”

I said, “Cancer.”

She knew it wasn’t a cancer of my own, and she knew to say little and to briefly touch my shoulder.

Continue reading “Finding Signs”

Living With Cancer

Let’s start with the simple truth: Both of our parents have cancer. At the same time, in their separate homes.

Let’s start with the simple truth: Both of our parents have cancer We need to use in home care for Alzheimer’s or dementia family members. At the same time, in their separate homes. One is in chemotherapy for a cancer that has been battled four times. One is in a remission that will not last. Heck, it’s not really remission. It’s just a wonderful string of days that lasts until the cancer pronounces itself and the chemical treatments resume.

But what they are both doing beautifully is living with cancer. Truly living. And the gift they have given us is that they have let both of us in for the private appointments, the fears, the sickness, the good, and the bad. The days that seem numbered, and the days that never end.

Continue reading “Living With Cancer”

Why We Host Wings of Hope

Every day, someone enters a treatment center for cancer. Every day, good news is handed out. Every day, bad news is received. But for two days a year we childishly imagine cancer takes a break so we can celebrate a wonderful season full of hope and renewal. Join us this weekend. Help us raise money. Help us make this season bright. We thank you for your business. Every day.

Every day, someone enters a treatment center for cancer. Every day, good news is handed out. Every day, bad news is received.

“Every days” have happened to the people in these pictures. Our family. Our friends. Their family and their friends. It seems never-ending.

But for two days a year we childishly imagine cancer takes a break so we can celebrate a wonderful season full of hope and renewal. Those two days are when we open our store wide to our customers and our city and put on a great party, Wings of Hope. It is a holiday open house, and it is a crowning moment in our year. We take a breath right before our season kicks it into high gear to laugh, tell stories, and shop for friends and family.

As in years past, we are donating 20% of every purchase this Saturday and Sunday to a cancer research fund named for our friend Susan Henke Miller. She will be with us again this year – so many years after we thought we would lose her to her cancer.

Join us for an “every day” this weekend. Help us raise money. Help us consume great drinks, delicious snacks, and STUFF’s signature party food: peanut M&Ms.

Help us make this season bright.

We thank you for your business.

Every day.

p.s. These pictures from previous Wings of Hope parties remind us of our fantastic past. What wonderful days they all were.

And So We Tussle

In general, those in the Simmons tribe like opposition that is clearly defined and worthy of our full battle abilities.

Two nights ago, in low light and with a drink in my hand, I was asked how my dad was. A good friend was wondering about the ongoing cancer that lives in my father. This friend can handle most of what I put out, and I blinked twice before answering.

In general, those in the Simmons tribe like opposition that is clearly defined and worthy of our full battle abilities. My father lives with a very picky strain of non-Hodgkin lymphoma that is a bear to treat. His goal, our goal, for the last four years has been to gain remission so he can undergo a bone marrow transplant and possibly knock this cancer down a notch or two and then put it to bed. Three completed chemotherapy protocols have not done that – but one got him damned close. “Close, but no cigar,” as a grandfather used to say.

In the next few days, my father will enter another treatment that he and his doctor already know will not bring him remission, but it is the only option available to him at this time. It’s like we are all waiting for science to catch up to his need. His need, and the needs of probably thousands of others as well.

And so we will tussle with cancer. I am viewing this as not a full-fledged fight but a skirmish. We will help, and hold, and laugh, and cry. And wait. He will be sick again from the poisons he will ingest, and we will all dream of limited reactions on his part.

I asked my friend, with a voice that quietly betrayed my emotions: Who really wants an all-body rash?

Photo note: This is my dad, my stepmom, and my son on the night my son was crowned Homecoming King last fall. There will be more nights just like this in all our futures. Of this I am certain.

You Are The Abundant Blessing

We have spent the past year with our eyes wide open and the desire for change in our hearts. It took Casey painting a quote on STUFF’s front glass to realize we have everything we want and have changed what we can. Colorful lives are what we lead every day. You are the abundant blessing for the artists we represent and the families we support.

“May we all be thankful for our colorful lives and abundant blessings.”

We have spent the past year with our eyes wide open and the desire for change in our hearts. We want to change our father’s lymphoma journey. We want to look into the future and see where Sloane’s son lands for college. We want to continue to watch Casey’s daughter’s esteem bloom as she realizes what being a strong young woman is all about. We want our mother to stay blissfully cancer free.

It took Casey painting the quote above on STUFF’s front glass to realize we have everything we want and have changed what we can. Colorful lives are what we lead every day.

We are ready for a holiday season that kicks off in earnest on Friday after we take a day to rest and nourish ourselves with all of our family at one table.

You are the abundant blessing for the artists we represent and the families we support.

We are so very thankful. Happy Thanksgiving!

Casey & Sloane Simmons
Sisters & Co-owners

You Are Our Gift at the Holidays

Our whole community came together at our fundraiser – Wings of Hope. You are our gift at the holidays. Never forget that.

When asked if she wanted gift wrap, our friend Mary Anne reached across the counter and held onto Sloane’s arm and said, “You know, my gift is sitting right outside.”

And she was.

This past weekend we had yet another celebration of the power of the human spirit over cancer. We drank punch, we munched cookies, we held customers while they cried, we emptied candy bowls of their sweetness, we laughed, and our customers shopped with smiles on their faces. It was a glorious way to start the holiday season.

Mary Anne’s daughter is our friend Susan Miller. She was here the entire weekend selling T-shirts and telling of her continued victory over cancer. Casey was with her in the sunshine and shade as they raised money from donated T-shirts. A longtime friend of STUFF, John, who has had cancer visit his family one too many times, brought us custom shirts from his business to sell. All monies for charity.

Our whole community came together at our fundraiser – Wings of Hope. We are dedicated to helping find a cure for cancer through research. The KU Cancer Center is doing heaps of that – alone and in collaboration. The fund that Susan’s family started years ago while she was suffering and triumphing is still rockin’ the research.

To our parents, who have both battled cancer, to Susan, to John, to Mary Anne, and to all of you who believe in our dream business: we thank you for believing with us that together we will find a cure for cancer.

You are our gift at the holidays. Never forget that.

A Hug That Changed My Life

Yesterday I hugged a customer at the store. I am a hugger. I have always been a hugger, and I plan to stay that way. I believe hugs could save the world.

Yesterday I hugged a customer at the store. I am a hugger. I have always been a hugger, and I plan to stay that way. I believe hugs could save the world. I hug people, trees, dogs, cats, and the occasional lilac bush. I often end my notes with, “hugs….” A hug will set you free.

But yesterday this particular hug deeply changed my life forever.

A woman came to the store to shop in support of a local school. We were hosting a charity shopping day at the store. She bought a pile of gifts. She was generous with her shopping, both in what she chose for others and in splurging a bit to help the school. At one point, she handed me two handmade artist plaques and said she wasn’t sure who she would share them with, but she just knew they would love them.

When we were finishing her sale, I found myself in a conversation with her about her battle with cancer. She has stage 4 colon cancer. She has been in treatment for over two and half years. She is beautiful. If she didn’t have the tell-tale regrowth hair that often screams CANCER to the world, I would have never known she has cancer.

She spoke frankly with me. She never looked away. She was honest, direct, kind, and flawlessly open. She didn’t feel sorry for herself. She did not hide her pain or dramatize it. She was heroic.

I came around the counter and asked if I could hug her. She graciously said yes. We embraced for longer than you would normally hug a person you just met. Her hug was warm, kind, and open, just like her words.

I had to take a handful of deep breaths when she left. My life was forever changed. I believe I will remember our exchange for the rest of my life. My wish is that the memory will come to me often. I deeply hope I can grow to be as honest, giving, calm, and willing to be fully alive as this remarkable woman.

What happens next is unknown for her and for me, but isn’t that reality for all of us?

Hugs…

Here is a handful of hug-moments. Note the joy, love, and happiness being shared.