The language of precious things

I tie my hiking boots at 3:15 p.m. New Year’s Day. I’ve anticipated this moment with each email I’ve typed and item checked off my Action Log. At last, I open the door and escape insufferable technology terminology and surmounting roadblocks within the book publishing...

A vision for 2020

Sometime between Christmas Day and New Year’s Day, I remove my annual list of goals from the inside of my desk door. I review two categories, Personal and Professional, and wonder again who suggested this beneficial ritual. For twenty-some years I’ve attempted to...

A history of beds

I never wanted Mom’s white metal bed for our guest room. I preferred our second-hand Jenny Lind twin beds, and so did our younger daughters. They grew into women between the wooden spindles abundant with stories, prayers and dreams. Besides, before Mom fell ill with...

Fast food and lasting friends

The fall of 1966, my friend Debbie introduced me to Marilyn in the halls of Lincoln Senior High School, Nine Mile and Federal in Warren. Inseparable seniors, Marilyn’s yellow and brown Fiat offered us an escape during lunch hour to the Golden Arches newly rooted two...

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

On Saturday, Mel carried our Christmas tree box upstairs. We paid $75 for our 6 foot fresh Douglas fir, perfect size for our small living room. (My husband calls it the “front” room.) “Have we ever paid that price for a tree, even when we chopped them down with the...