My biggest lesson: People don’t belong to you
Other people mark their 50th birthday by taking a trip, throwing a big party, or checking off something on their bucket list. I entered my sixth decade with a growing sense that our family needed one more child to feel complete. My husband and I already had six children, the youngest of whom was 10, and I had a pretty…
I’m the first person to admit that I’m addicted to technology. I’m constantly checking my never-ending inflow of texts, emails, Facebook messages, and Twitter tweets. But I learned a couple of things during my amazing safari in South Africa—and not just about rhinoceroses! The Internet isn’t readily accessible in the veld, and at first I went through a certain amount…
A couple of months ago, the New York Times Styles section profiled Amy Cunningham, a magazine writer and blogger who surprised all her friends—myself included—when she abruptly shifted gears in her mid-50s to enroll at the American Academy McAllister Institute of Funeral Service. Now a licensed funeral director, she specializes in eco-friendly burials and do-it-yourself, spiritually attuned ceremonies for people…
The baby was due on July 4. Independence Day always ranked low on my list of treasured holidays, but now the date felt significant, like something written in the stars. In truth, no one really knew when our baby would arrive, thanks to my lackadaisical approach to biological record keeping. An exasperated midwife insisted I supply a best-guess date of…
In celebration of Father’s Day, here are our favorite posts about dads from the last year: Here I Am, by Duane Stapp. A man who never knew his father vows to be there for his son. What I Learned from My Dad About How to Win, by Michele Rosenthal. Along with the finer points of shooting marbles and playing Gin…
When I was about five years old, I was pretty sure my father was God. This was because I would watch him plant pieces of dead wood in the ground that a month later had grown into a house. Then I learned that he was actually a carpenter. Since Jesus was also a carpenter, it still gave him good cred,…
One icy Saturday in January 1980, my father and I were loading firewood into the back of the family station wagon when his face, red from the cold wind and exertion, suddenly drained of color and turned as gray as the crusted snow under our boots. He slumped onto the car’s tailgate and pulled from his pocket the battered aluminum…
