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About Barbara
I’m Barbara Falconer Newhall and I’ve got a serious case of the human condition.
I’ve done it all: career, family, house, garden, and a prize-winning book, "Wrestling with God." The result: I'm a woman of years, lots of them, who can't help seeing things from the funny side.
Tucked away on this website are hundreds of riffs on life. I hope you’ll seek them out – and keep me company as I discover the humor, if not the meaning, in what life throws my way. Learn More
THE LATEST
Sixteen Years Left to Live. How Many Bowls of Froot Loops Is That?
In the sixteen years I’ve got left, how many of the gotta-do items on my to-do list will I get done? Read more.
BARBARA’S BOOK
★ Publishers Weekly, starred review
Any seeker of any faith will be blessed to read the words of this fine author and observer. Read more.
An inveterate doubter for most of her adult life, journalist Barbara Falconer Newhall embarks upon a quest to find a way to believe in God in the twenty-first century.
The result is Wrestling with God: Stories of Doubt and Faith, which details her search for the Divine in the lives of diverse Americans – from a fundamentalist Christian to a progressive Muslim to a Buddhist monk.Seekers of all persuasions will feel represented here, from priests, ministers, and rabbis to engineers, physicists, and avowed non-believers . . . a riverflow of a book. — Phil Cousineau, host of PBS’s Global Spirit
Recent Riffs on Life
Was My Mother a 1950s Tradwife?
My mother was a tradwife, a bona fide 1950s tradwife. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she got. Read more.
The Trouble With Poinsettias
The trouble with poinsettias is — they don’t know that Christmas is over and it’s time to make an exit. Read more.
DON’T MISS!
It’s True. My New Bathroom Is . . . Beautiful
It’s true. My new bathroom is beautiful. I’ve been taking a lot of showers in there lately, so I should know. Read more.
The Darkening Days — And My Mother’s Last Hours
In the years since my mother’s death, I’ve often felt regret that my mother’s last hours with me weren’t more meaningful for her, and for me. Read more.
My Mother’s Writing Desk Is Not My Writing Desk. Here’s Why
Being in the same room with my mother’s writing desk is like being in the same room with my mother, which is why her desk isn’t in my writing room. Read more.