I tugged and dragged and rolled the old logs onto the terrace and made them into an obstacle course. Or was it a fairy circle? Read more.
grandmother
I’m Going to Be a Grandmother — Or Will I Be a Grannie? A Grandma? A Nana?
What shall I call myself? Something tried and true like Grandma, Grannie, Nana, or Grandmother Newhall? Or should I revive one of my childhood nicknames — Bobbie or Fanny? Read more.
A Case of the Human Condition: When a Six-Year-Old Flies Solo
My mother-in-law was on the phone. Could my 6-year-old son Peter come to Southern California for a week’s visit with her? “A week?” I thought. Could I get along without my little son for a whole week? Read more.
Geographic Mobility in America — Watching My Grown-Up Kids Disappear
Most of my grandmother’s children – there were seven of them – lived out their lives within walking distance of their mother’s white frame house in Scottville, Michigan. Not my father. He moved away. So did I. So has my son. Read more.