In 2000, Mother and Daddy took all of us—their three adult kids and seven grandchildren on a pilgrimage to Ireland. My grandmother, Genevieve Margaret McCabe Sikora, was Irish, and it had been my mother’s dream to take her family there. The twelve of us traveled throughout the Emerald Isle on a 48-passenger bus, allowing us to move around and visit with one another. The adults sat in the front, while the kids took over the back, listening to their Walkmen, napping, and making fun of the adults.

The trip was fabulous. I’m blessed that my “baby" brother, Jeff, and my older brother Jackie, are two of my best friends, and we spent much of the trip howling with laughter at one another. In this photo, taken at Killarney Golf Course, Jackie had just made a comment about the uh…interesting placement of Daddy’s fanny pack. Thank heavens the photographer caught this, because it’s one of my favorite memories.

Another picture snapped at the perfect moment. Taken at the Court of Two Sisters in New Orleans, Gretchen and her husband Jimmy surprised me by flying us in their plane to NOLA to celebrate my 29th birthday. The plane was decorated with hand-lettered poster board and toilet paper banners, and was stocked with bloody marys and plenty of Veuve Cliquot. 

Gretchen and I met when we were 8 years old as we were walking home from school in our small south Texas home town. We’re now in our late 60s, and since then, we’ve maintained and strengthened our friendship; we finish one another’s sentences, laugh at the same things, and know all one another’s secrets.  All of them. Yikes. Our personalities couldn’t be more different, but we are on the same wavelength. 

Gretchen’s usually the one who makes me laugh so hard I spit my drink out of my nose, but on this day, my 29th birthday, I got her.

Seated is my then-82-year-old mother, Ellen. Helping her out of the bounce house is my daughter, Bailey. I wonder if her great-grandchildren understand what a fun-loving, cool great-grandmother they have. She had crawled into the bounce house to play with her great-grandbabies and, even though her family knows how age-defyingly young she is, we were still surprised that she jumped right into the fray with the toddlers. Today, my dad is 89, and he uses his walker to climb the stadium steps to watch his great-grandchildren play sports. Mother is 91, recovering from covid, and is still the cutest, hippest lady around. How blessed am I? 

October, 2011. I ran away with my childhood friends, Gretchen and Lenora, for a girls’ weekend in Fredericksburg, Texas. While driving toward F’burg, I spotted this sign and insisted on stopping to snap a picture. Moments before getting in the car, I had pressed “send” to submit the manuscript for my fourth book, DKR: The Royal Scrapbook. Those two girls had encouraged me, supported me, urged me throughout the process, but considering my past fear of “finishing,” the sentiment of “When Pigs Fly” seemed to apply.

Stay tuned for more of these. 

— Jenna