Bonni Brodnick Blog

Happy Easter! The daffodils and forsythia are in full bloom, and the magnificent fragrance of magnolia trees heralds spring's arrival. I am reminded, too, of the fateful day nine years ago when I had my stroke on Easter Sunday morning on Interstate 95.  My Stroke in the Fast Lane: A Journey to Recovery   opens with the dining room table set in a seasonal theme of pastels with a porcelain bunny "... sitting on a patch of fake grass amidst chocolate eggs and jellybeans. The night before I baked a lemon-blueberry cake ... A ham was diagonally scored, each diamond studded with a clove, and put under a crown of aluminum foil in the refrigerator. All we needed to do was put it in the oven when I returned." Little did I know that I wouldn't return for months. I replay practically every minute of going to pick up my mother and all that ensued as I took a diverted route to Stroke Land.  But here I am! A badass, warrior STROKE SURVIVOR who savors every moment of being alive. Am...

After my stroke, Andrew officially created the position of "Cultural Director." My coming to the razor-thin edge of almost dying affected all of us.  In this new post, he wanted to take advantage of living closer to the city. No longer tucked away in the country, where the city was a good hour and a half by car, now, on a good night, we are only 36 minutes from midtown. (Andrew times it.) We regularly shoot into Manhattan to hear concerts at Carnegie Hall and Geffen Hall, attend the opera at The Metropolitan, see Broadway shows, and visit museums. In our town, we also have a Music Hall from the 1860s and Jazz Forum. I like to boast that this venue is on  Downbeat Magazine 's   list of the "100 Best Jazz Clubs in the World."  For upcoming concerts, I'll get a text: "Listen to Sibelius violin concerto and Dvorak 7. Later in the month we hear Beethoven quartet 15. His late quartets are extraordinary." Next text: "Also Silbelius symp 1 and Grieg p...

  It was afternoon, and my phone rang. A call from grandson in Brooklyn. He couldn't get the screen right, but I was charmed by him. Delighted by him! Uplifted by him! He made my day. I look at this photo often as I dearly miss my mother, and a very close friend passed last weekend. (In his sleep, in his bed next to the man who was the love of his life. JL made a graceful departure we would all want to happen to us.)  The photo makes me at least try to embrace the continuum of life. What's the phrase? One day at a time.  Look around you and seek inspiration from the little things. (For me, it was from this under-3-feet-tall person calling me in the middle of the day to say hello and "I love you, Bebe.")

                                   More photos from CycleNation fundraiser . . .   Photos by Creative Focus Designs 

Terminal Warehouse was buzzing as stationary bicyclists zealously showed support for CycleNation, the American Stroke Association's fundraiser. It was an honor to be invited to speak about my book,  My Stroke in the Fast Lane. I thought back to the first time I went into the city alone, I wasn't as strong. Z., my good friend, assured me that he would meet me at the gate at Grand Central. "Don't worry, Bonomo. I'll be there."  But the overriding feeling I had on this particular day was one of gratitude: that this body could take the train to the city, walk to the #7 to take the subway downtown to Hudson Yards, walk a few blocks to CycleNation, and then repeat the journey home. I couldn't resist this shot with the EMT team. When I mentioned that I was a stroke survivor, the gentleman on my left kept saying, "God bless you. God bless you." <> <> <> Just got back from the cardiologist. After taking the usual EKG, he told me my heart...

This will be a very busy week! On Thursday, 3/12/26, I'll be speaking at the American Stroke Association's annual event, CycleNation , down in Chelsea at Terminal Warehouse. I'm going on at about 7pm and will discuss my book,   My Stroke in the Fast Lane: A Journey to Recovery , as well as how the organization touched my life, specifically that Easter morning several years back.  After having a stroke on Interstate-95 at 65 mph (I know! It's everyone's worst nightmare), the ambulance brought me to a hospital that gave me a tPA (or clot buster). It didn't work.  I was still in critical condition. My heart was hovering over 30 bpm, with some beats occuring every 8 seconds.  With crucial minutes still ticking, another ambulance whisked me 43 miles north to Yale-New Haven Hospital, who were able to help me.  I am incredibly grateful to the American Heart / Stroke Association for its steadfast commitment to funding, facilitating, and accelerating the impact of i...