As a feminist conversant with the politics of housework, I tried not to be too preoccupied with clean. Then I learned I was allergic to the dustballs under my marital bed. Read more.
Oakland Tribune
Confessions of a So-So Wife: The Night I Forgot to Make Dinner
It would be the dinner of my dreams, the married life I’d imagined as a girl back in Detroit. The table would be set, the chicken roasted to a golden brown. Read more.
A Newspaper Story With My Name on It — That I Didn’t Have to Write
For once I was the interviewee and someone else was doing the hard work of conducting the interview. A newspaper reporter was asking my about my new book, “Wrestling with God.” Read more.
Telephoning Those Teenage Babysitters — Rejected Again
What did teenage boys and moms in need of a babysitter have in common back in the day? They had to call up teenage girls. Read more.
The Sad State of the Supermarket Strawberry
I’m worried about the strawberry. It’s too late for the tomato. Its innards were transformed into colorless, flavorless – but easily shippable – pulp decades ago. Which is why I’m concerned about the strawberry. Is it going the way of the tomato? Read more.
Will Our Kids Grow Up to Be Cheaters Like Lance Armstrong?
Will my kids grow up to be cheaters? Is it possible to raise honest children in this Pete Rose-Bernie Madoff world — where something like 50 percent of students admit to cheating? Read More
A Case of the Human Condition: Am I Scotch?* Or Midwestern?
Genealogically speaking, I’m not that far removed from Scotland. My father’s father was born near Glasgow. But the complex – presumably – set of beliefs and customs he and his parents brought with them to the shores of Lake Michigan in 1873 are lost to me now. Tartans have given way to Levi’s. Haggis has succumbed to pizza and Chinese take-out. When I think about where I come from, I do not think of Scotland. I think of Michigan. Read More.