By Wendy Halleck

When I was a child, growing up in Chicago, my grandmother would take me on errand runs. We would stop at the butcher, the fruit stand, the bakery and the local coffee shop. My grandmother was one of many immigrant women in her neighborhood, but wherever we stopped, she was greeted by name. She seemed to be an important person to each shop owner. Holding her hand, I felt important too.

I am now a local shop owner. I’m lucky. I have a great staff and a wonderful place to go to work each day. Some who know my business might think the greatest perk would be getting the first crack at new merchandise, but for me the best part of being an independent business owner has been the opportunity to connect with and be part of this community. Over the past 18 years, I have met interesting people and formed lasting and loyal friendships. I have seen the children of my customers grow into adults and become my customers. I have been invited to weddings and sadly to funerals. I think I speak for most local business owners when I say that above all, it is this connection that makes the other struggles of business ownership worthwhile. It is a solid foundation for great quality of life.

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Dealing with loss, but without regret

By Vicki Mariner

In 2000, when the young technician popped her head around the door after my mammogram, I assumed that she would tell me to button up and check out. Instead, she hemmed about "white sprinkles" on the x-ray. "Maybe talcum powder?" She wiped off my armpit for a second try. "O.K." she said," we've got it."

I'm not a big worrier, but when I got home later and had a message from my doctor's office to call immediately, my heart sank. "Dang, this it." The second mammogram and my doc's call could only mean one thing: cancer . Still, I've always had an absurd faith in my ability to dodge truly bad luck. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

The next day, my doctor saw me: "See these little white flecks? Calcified cells, possibly left by cancer." Next stop, my new surgeon's office to set up a biopsy. I surfed the web for biopsy images and was horrified. They looked like shish kabob skewers inserted crisscross through breasts! Still, I decided to approach the experience with so much confidence in medical technology that my mantra was, "Relax...breathe deep...don't look." Medical technology helped by being friendly, efficient, and totally reassuring. I felt nothing until I woke up with a little sore spot under a neat bandage on my left breast.

Today is