If you’re imagining that as a hand-drawn cartoon where she’s looming over me as I sit at a mechanical typewriter, banging this out under the threat of a rolling pin-inflicted wallop, thank you. You’re my people and we should watch Looney Tunes together sometime.  But no, she

Easter is mine.   Well, technically, it’s for all of us, I guess. Celebrate as you like, please.  But if you want to know what I’m up to (and you’re going to, since you subscribed to this), I’m hosting my biggest family dinner to date. We’re

Some friends share heart necklaces, or get matching tattoos. I've asked Joe to do both, and he has politely declined.

There was always one rule that stood firm, a timeless directive that was followed by young and old alike: Quiet Time

One early June afternoon, I got a call from my big sister. She told me that she had something to tell me, her voice growing shakier with each word. She took a breath and told me that my father was dead. The memory of that day just drifted in last