Like so many people, women in particular, I was never very comfortable in my own skin. But my discomfort had less to do with wanting to be a blonde instead of a brunette or wishing for blue eyes instead of hazel. Though I did of course occasionally covet different physical traits than the ones I was born with, it wasn’t…
The day my father died, suddenly, of a heart attack, I wanted to be the one to tell my son, who was six years old at the time, what happened. I sat down on the sofa, took Truman’s hands in mine, and told him his grandfather had died. I explained what that meant—that we wouldn’t see him anymore but would…
You may have forgotten to mark it on your calendar, but today’s date is an important one—it’s National Teacher Appreciation Day! Sean McComb was honored as Teacher of the Year by President Obama, but you don’t have to be POTUS to send a note or an email to your child’s teacher, bring some cookies to school, or get in touch…
By Steve Lewis The soundtrack to my road trip fantasy always begins with the Allman Brothers’ “Ramblin’ Man.” In my imagination, the camera pans down to a glistening Winnebago cresting a hill on a clear blue July morning, everyone in my big family laughing, free as the clichéd wind as we sluice down narrow lanes and merge onto interstates crisscrossing…
Valentine’s Day brings up so many memories of growing up. Years before I was interested in boys, my father was my Valentine—a tradition we maintained until he passed 12 years ago. He always sent a huge bouquet of flowers to my mom and smaller ones to my sister and me. I remember when we were working together years later, he…
On my 50th birthday I was presented with a little green box that could only contain something small and possibly expensive, like jewelry. Inside was a sparkly diamond in a platinum setting. I was surprised, to say the least, because the ring came from my mother. Included in the box was a handwritten note: My mother gave this to me, and…
For some people, the words yielding and surrender might evoke romance novels—lovers swept away by passion, tearing each other’s clothes off, transported to an idyll of true-love-forever. Or yielding and surrender can raise the specter of submissive women who are ceaselessly compliant, handmaidens in the backgrounds of men’s lives. But there’s another perspective. Surrendering to a partner, yielding to his…
I left them quite intentionally, my blue-collar family, but now I can look back with great appreciation. They scraped together the money that my private-college scholarship didn’t cover, probably not understanding that it meant I would leave their world for one they would never enter—the reward and punishment of a good education. Decades later, I’ve learned to fake it, to…
