In Rebecca Drake’s wonderful suspense novel, Only Ever You, there’s an interchange over dinner between Jill, the protagonist, and an older partner at her husband’s law firm. He inquires as to what she does, and she tells him she’s a photographer. He says that must be “fun.”
In forty-eight hours, my younger son and his family will be on the road to Denver where he’s taken a teaching job. It’s a super opportunity, and as his mom, I am so happy for him. But I sure am going to miss picking up my grandchildren
Back in prehistoric times when I was growing up, I taught myself to type on an old manual Smith-Corona
Last week in my blog, I talked about the miracle of my nephew getting a heart transplant. I’m happy to report that things continue to go well
After a year of waiting, having pretty much adjusted to the idea the call might never come, my dear nephew, in desperate need of a heart transplant, got the phone call. A heart awaited him.
Despite the horrors of events such as the massacre in Orlando, there’s little question we’re in the midst of dramatic societal changes in support and respect for LGBT folks. But pockets of prejudice and bigotry
We Louisvillians spent last week mourning and celebrating the life of our greatest locally born and bred hero, Muhammad Ali. He epitomized courage, dedication to justice, and commitment to humanitarian work. He was so much more than a boxing legend. (And yes, he was pretty.)
I was with my son one day last month when we stopped at the neighborhood cycle shop to pick up the shiny new bike he’d purchased for his daughter’s seventh birthday.