Nearly 40 years ago, I was a small, tomboyish fifth-grader. (Shout out to my GenXers!). This was an era when a 10 year old was still very much a kid. I certainly was. My school, Walt Disney Elementary School (for real), still held recess at lunchtime, but the playground equipment was less enticing at that …
“Though she be but little, she is fierce.”
My mom died last week. I won’t talk here about how she died, but I do want to talk about how she lived. These are the remarks I made during her remembrance: My mother, Joanne, was all about that bling. Anything and everything shiny. Her hair, her makeup, her clothes were always 110% on-point. She …
How to Lose a Year of Your Life
Prologue: As of this writing, 2.65 million people worldwide have died of Covid-19. Deaths in the United States number more than half a million. There are millions more who survived the virus. And millions more who have lost everything, but their life, to the shutdown. If you’re fortunate enough to be reading this, as I’m …
Stasis vs. Social Distancing
Sta·sis /ˈstāsis/ Noun: A period or state of inactivity or equilibrium. Prologue: I started thinking about the concept of stasis as long ago as last fall when I jotted it into my journal, pondered through winter, and finally began writing in the first days of March. It was a good time to write about stasis …
May the force be with you. Always.
I was almost four and a half in the summer of 1977. Just a baby nerd-introvert. My mom was having a Tupperware party and wanted everyone out of the house, so my dad took my sister and me to the movies. I was so small that I could stand up in the row and put …
Confessions on a Dance Floor
I am not a good dancer. That doesn’t stop me from tearing it up in the kitchen to my 80s music mix. I used to dance a lot more, and in public; despite my introvert persona, I rarely missed a school dance as a teenager. Music has always moved me, literally. During college years ago, …
Swans and Ducklings: A Story of Self-Image
Not long ago I came across an old driver’s license issued to me in 2000, when I was 27 years old. Driver license photos do not tend to be the most flattering likeness of a person, but as I peer at a seventeen-years-younger me through the reader-portion of my progressive lenses, I think to myself, “Huh. …
Rocks Calling: Confessions of A Petraphile
Rocks call to me. I could say simply that I collect rocks, but that feels reductive. Or perhaps even the opposite of what is true. Rocks collect me. Just this morning, The Husband mumbled that if I bring one more rock into the house, the floor might collapse. Picking up stones, pebbles, and rocks is …
