Columns

Celebrating here and now

It’s a typical Sunday afternoon in early January 2020. Four large, perfectly ripe pears lounge in a bowl on our kitchen counter. I’ve observed their incubation for three days, waiting for this succulent moment. We never know if the green fruit we carry home from the...

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Moving on to the next reality

January 7, 2020 marked 13 years since my mom has been gone from this world. That was also my Aunt Phyllis’s birthday, her youngest sister, who just passed last Thanksgiving. It’s truly sad that as we live, we slowly get our hearts broken with every loss of a loved...

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A testament to Father Gabriel Richard

Dad drove us by a tall, brick smokestack rising above a large, two-story building in Detroit. “There’s Gabriel Richard, girls, your new school,” Mom said to my sisters and me. Six years old, I feared smokestacks, a word fallen from whispers with concentration camp. We...

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The slipperiness of time

“You know, this day isn’t really important for Vietnamese people,” my friend said as we sat on the balcony overlooking the market. The morning sun lit up her face in crisp relief. There was a fair breeze in the air from the nearby river. I picked at my chocolate...

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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...

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Seeing it for yourself

“We’re going to see Theresa Caputo, I got us tickets lady,” my friend says. We had just finished seeing a psychic medium who gave me somewhat valid info from the other side. Either that or she is really good at guessing what I need to hear. Yes, I know a lot of people...

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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...

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To sit on Santa’s knee

My volunteer badge clipped to my red sweater, I stand inside the Detroit Institute of Arts. A reindeer headband accents my holiday cheer. I’m happy to oblige when asked to take tickets for pictures with Santa. As a youngster, I believed in Santa Claus with all my...

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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...

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