I have a headache. I am in my pajamas. My hair is uncombed. TMI? Let me just add that I don’t plan to comb or dress at all today if I don’t have to—not until 9:30 p.m. when I will put on a clean scrub and wash my face and arrive to work as a […]
Grumpy. And Other Random Events of Life. Read More »
Twelve years ago, my baby sister dreamed she would die at age twenty-one. For twelve years she threw herself heart and soul into living—spontaneous, joyful, loving with all her heart—but wondering all along if really, it would happen. This September, she turned twenty-two. The time of the curse is over and gone, the bright leaves
Dad harvested his first three bushels from the apple orchard. Down below the shed in our sloped field, apples still ripen on the three-year-old trees, slim and smooth sided and hung heavy with fruit. Dad planted those trees during the time when he first seriously considered selling the milk cows. By the time the two-year-old
Because I am interested in history—and particularly the history of oppressed people groups—my ears always perk when my friend and fellow writer Shel Pais starts talking about his dad, a Holocaust survivor. “His story is part of who I am today,” Shel wrote to me once. In this post, he’s agreed to share part of
The Pickle Story: Sometimes the Smallest Decisions Have Major Impact Read More »
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