Dear Son, High school's sure changed a lot in the last thirty years. Back then I used to think programming the Commodore 64 to scroll my name in a loop was a big deal...but I have a feeling the important bits haven't changed that much. Some stuff is definitely harder (the omnipresence of social media),... Continue Reading →
Here we are, on the verge of big, bad teenagerdom. I'm not going to lie, I'm scared. Not all the time, and not even about the big, bad things, but nevertheless, she persisted worrying. Have I done enough? Have I reminded you to please and thank you enough? Taught you how to tell a joke... Continue Reading →
When I was 8, I wanted to be the first female pitcher for the Boston Red Sox. Not because I loved the game, but because they told me it was possible. When I was 10, my fifth grade teacher told me use my brain, to push harder, to go higher. I never doubted her, because they told me it... Continue Reading →
Dear Son, I've watched you grow up right before my eyes this summer. In your confidence, in your readiness to face change, in your willingness to tackle whatever comes your way. All summer I listened as the screen door slammed behind you, as you went out on your own to explore the same neighborhood I explored... Continue Reading →
Dear Son, Ever since the Sharks challenged the Jets to a dance rumble, kids have been talking about who's cool and who's not. Oh heck, it probably started before that. There was probably a group of Neanderthal kids who thought their puma skin loin cloths were better than the Cro-Magnon kids' leopard skin thongs (they were wrong, leopard skin... Continue Reading →
I am a note person. I leave little scraps of encouragement and wit in the lunch boxes and have been known to stuff a love note or two into my husband's wallet between the credit cards. I keep boxes of written evidence of a life well-loved and lived. Even the blog is really just a... Continue Reading →
M is from a piece of graffiti spotted in an ark at the edge of the city. N is part of a name in the sand. O is....welll....an original interpretation of the letter.
J is a piece of graffiti that appealed to me, part of the word "Jeg" which is the pronoun "I" in Danish. K was a very kool neon sign snapped on the way home from super expensive pizza. L was a labor of love from one of my boys who knew I was having trouble... Continue Reading →