Hey, Beth. What Happened to 2025?

I cherished this visit with our son Glen, and his girlfriend Leia, in San Francisco. February 2025.

Dear Friends and Family,

Perhaps you noticed in 2025, I didn’t send any newsletters. Or, if you saw a photo, you may have wondered if I was wearing a wig. Which I was most of the year—and sometimes it was crooked (as above).

2025 began with a bang—and not a good one. November 4, 2024, I was diagnosed with an aggressive form of uterine cancer. Chemo started on Dec 26, 2024. I’m not going to elaborate on that ordeal here. With a few side effects lingering, I’m beyond grateful to have the treatment in the rearview mirror. We’re now in monitoring mode.

Throughout the year, I posted stories of how we coped and updates with what I was learning medically on CaringBridge.org (Beth’s Caring Bridge), which you’re welcome to visit.

Thank you to all who shored us up through 2025. Whether you knew about this or not, your friendship and presence in my life was and is a positive beacon.

6 photos: Beth with sister Nora; Beth getting a chemotherapy infusion, Jim and Beth outdoors at Fay bainbridge park smiling, Beth's first post-chemo Bike Ride, with Friends at a Writing retreat, Beth being introcuced by Jim Albert bookstore manage

A Few Photos 2025

1) Feb 6: With my sister Nora at Virginia Mason’s Cancer Center in Seattle. When she learned how hard witnessing the first treatment had been on Jim, she volunteered to drive 6 hours from Oregon to Bainbridge Island for the next four infusions. Those overnight visits reinforced an already strong sisterhood—a silver lining of this whole mess. I remember helping to feed Nora when she was the family baby before our two brothers were born. XOXO

2) Feb 6: Second of six, five-hour chemotherapy infusions. To minimize hair loss from chemo, I decided to try cold-capping my scalp during chemo. For this, Nora patiently swapped out frozen gel packs every 20 minutes. (About ten times!) The convoluted, scalp-icing circus didn’t work, but we got some hearty laughs out of messing with the bulbous blue cap—at home and on the ferry.

3) June 8: At Faye Bainbridge Beach, during a visit with Dianne and Sudie from Alaska. Thank you, Jim, Nora, family and friends, and visitors, for pulling me out of that dark era like a team of trusty sled dogs. (photo: Dianne Bigge)

4) June 29: First post-chemo, post-radiation bike ride with Jim as my coach. (Shirt design by Carol J. Mathews)

5) July 19: Live Band Night at Anderson Island (south Puget Sound) Writing Retreat with friends, Jenn, Gusty, and Gretchen. We learned (about each other and writing)—and laughed a lot.

6) Oct 3: Bainbridge downtown First Friday Art Walk event at Sotheby’s/Realogics featuring artist Barbara Bowen’s stunning art work and my book. Jim Albert (Eagle Harbor bookstore events manager) shares a story from Deep Waters, while the Harmony Wombats band takes a break.

**Bits of good news go a long way**

Simon & Schuster sent this newsletter to their email list with Deep Waters featured at the top. Wow! What an honor to have my memoir featured.
The publisher’s newsletters usually highlight new books, so discovering Deep Waters as the lead of this one is a thrill.
I suspect a few new reviews and ratings online are one reason this happened. I thank the readers from a recent book club and elsewhere who posted comments at Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, or GoodReads.

**Status of Book Two**

Escaping into a deep revision of my second memoir helped me stay sane through 2025. With energy levels hovering at 80-85% of normal, I eventually had to request an extension to my publication date, now January 2027.
A year sounds so far away. Yet, it’s crucial to have plenty of time to review and revise before sending a manuscript off for editing by fresh, critical eyes.
My pages have been improved by a developmental editor, beta readers, and a She Writes Press copy editor. The proofreader’s corrections arrived yesterday, which I’ll review next.
PS. My workspace isn’t always this tidy.

**Manuscript about to be mailed to a beta reader.**

Brothers from another century?

2025’s Genealogical Highlight: Last April, Jim’s sisters Eileen and Sheila found photos of Jim’s father’s older brother. James Warren Taggart (1898-1927) served in the Army during World War I. Soon after being discharged, Warren tragically died from the Spanish Flu at age 28. It makes me very sad that Warren did not live to raise his son.

When I saw the digital images, I was stunned by how much our son Glen—born 100 years later—resembles his great Uncle Warren. As young men, the two even sported the same haircut!

Making this connection touched me deeply.