All I have are two stories. My mother told me one many years ago, and my father's brother told me the other in 2005 shortly after my father died. My father told me nothing. His entire life, he refused to talk about the war. The first story my mother shared when I was 10. I'd discovered an old cigar box full of letters…

Apparently I was saying "no" too much. "No, thank you." "No, not today." "No, I'm sorry. I can't." Which is why my daughter Julie began talking to me about the power of yes. Saying "yes," she explained with a serious expression and her hand on my shoulder, had led her to people, places, and experiences she might not have had if she had let distance, weather, and an "It's too late and I'm too tired" mindset keep her in her comfort zone…