As an American Christian, I’d never known how it feels to have my faith’s most cherished symbols obliterated by a colonizing force. Until I entered the Hagia Sophia. Read more.
Why I Can’t Write My Memoir — Not the Part About My Mom Anyway
Driving home the other day from just one of countless visits to my mom at the hospital, I had to ask myself , why aren’t I writing about her? Read more.
Small Boys: Reading, Writing — And Yucky
Let’s face it. Kids, some kids, naturally love raunchy jokes and faces. There’s one living at my house who loves everything yucky. Read more.
Wait for Me! (Keeping up With the Twenty-Somethings)
I was a tiny preschooler, pumping away on my tricycle, near tears because the big kids were leaving me behind. Today, I was a lot older — and left in the dust again. Read more.
