My daughter had never cut anyone’s hair, ever. But my flyaway pandemic hair needed cutting. So I took a chance. The results were smashing. Read more.
daughters
Wisdom From My Father — Or, How to Sweep the Kitchen Floor
“Think about what you are doing,” my father told me. “Use your head.” His advice still applies in a 21st-century world neither of us could have imagined. Read more.
Little Girl Lost — My Mother’s Magical Babushka
When I was three or four years old, my mother took me shopping at a big department store in downtown Detroit. It might have been Crowley’s or Kern’s or Hudson’s. Shoppers crowded the aisles and soon, my mother and I got separated and I found myself alone. Read more.
Winter Solstice — My Mother’s Last Words to Me Before She Died
My mother’s last words to me were nothing much. No parting words of love. No heartfelt messages to the grandchildren. Read more.
The Writing Room: Write About My Aging Mother? I Don’t Think So . . .
Ten reasons why I’m finding it impossible to write about my 92-year-old mother, even though she’s all I can think about right now . . . .