I know you’re looking off to the side because the guy at Photorama told you to. Look over there, wistfully. You probably didn’t even know what wistful meant back then. I’m writing to you because I’ve been helping plan our 30-year reunion with a group of friends. We’ve been going through old yearbooks, tracking people… Continue reading Dear 17-Year-Old-Self
Category: Childhood
The Greatest Man I Always Knew
The title comes from one of my favorite songs, Reba McEntire’s “The Greatest Man I Never Knew,” which tells the story of a distant father-daughter relationship. That doesn’t describe my childhood with my dad, but the song resonates with me because of how much of his life he devoted to providing for our family. … Continue reading The Greatest Man I Always Knew
Stay Beautiful
Lately, I have been feeling like shit. You all know it and my closest family and friends know it too. I am going through a mix of something in between perimenopause and seasonal hatred that needs to be diagnosed quickly before I buy a yacht or 70s psychedelic food truck or some tragic outfit like… Continue reading Stay Beautiful
I Was 14 Once Too
Contrary to popular belief, I was 14 once too. Popular opinion = my 14-year-old daughter. I used to have a lot of attitude and angst, so I understand. And yet… I don’t always understand. It’s becoming harder to connect with the emotions, the pain, the pressure I felt from 1982 to 1988, when I was… Continue reading I Was 14 Once Too
Mom’s Shrimp Dip Reminds Me of the 70’s
I have vague memories of the 1970s. I say vague because I only remember bits and pieces of that decade because I was only ages 0-9 at the time. But, thanks to photographs, I recall my father wearing a lot of plaid pants and my mother wearing owl necklaces, bandanas in her long hair, and… Continue reading Mom’s Shrimp Dip Reminds Me of the 70’s
Mrs. Pierce
Last week, the world lost an amazing person. My high school English teacher, Mrs. Pierce, died on March 19. I can still hear her raspy voice teaching me how long a paragraph should be. I can see her floating around the room in her signature floral dress, checking everyone’s papers. In 11th grade, I… Continue reading Mrs. Pierce