Columns

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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Sleigh bells ring

As the holiday season approaches, we see the usual social media messages of “Don’t forget the reason for the Season” alongside the “Stop asking me if I am ready for Christmas, I’m barely ready for today, Susan.” It’s that complicated time of the year where everyone is...

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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...

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Another angle to those family stories

When you get together with family members after you haven’t seen each other in a while, it seems the topic of conversation always steers back to your childhood. Such was the case for my sisters and me recently. My sister Michele, her husband Pete, and daughter Sarah...

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