To sit high in your chair, don’t make excuses.

Organizing a front porch wedding during a global pandemic.

Most doctors think you’re just fat.

I turned 52 thirty-seven minutes ago.

Every marriage falls into distinct patterns.

One year ago today, a phone call at six am from the hospital jarred me out of a fitful sleep. My father had died, two weeks shy of his 83rd birthday.

Because of the way politics works in this region nobody wants to make a hard decision on things.

The first thing I remember about my dad was his huge, powerful hands. I watched him crush walnuts inside his strong fist at Christmastime when the nutcracker was nowhere to be found—and I figured a man with strength like that could do just about anything.

Late one night, the acute care section of the emergency room was filled with people (mostly seniors) who were all admitted and waiting for available rooms in the hospital. My father was among them, and I waited with him to hear the results of a few tests. In the next bed was an old woman […]