Rooted.

Twenty years ago, give or take a few weeks, on a cold, rainy Saturday, I was living by myself in a guest house a few blocks from the Joslyn Castle in Omaha. It was an old, historic neighborhood – not unlike my neighborhood in Memphis, today, with houses in varying states of renovation and residents…

Pay it forward; give back.

Today is #GivingTuesday, and the world needs your help. Today you’ll be hearing even more from people like me who work in nonprofits about how you can help someone in need. So, keep it simple: help. Make an investment in humanity today, whether your capacity to give is $10 or $10,000. Find something that matters…

Babies, tarnish and dust.

The part of this that is a story, at the beginning, is mostly true and very short – hardly even a story, it’s so short. But it’s true nonetheless, in the important ways, and amended appropriately because it isn’t mine. A number of years ago a dear friend was hosting Thanksgiving dinner. More specifically, a…

His Garden of Earthly Delight.

Because I felt like mixing things up. Because I can. Because I had a small window of time. Because, while shitty first drafts are definitely best kept private, shitty second drafts might benefit from being shared with friends. Because, Thanksgiving, you beautiful, topsy-turvy world. His Garden of Earthly Delight At just past 5:00 on the…

Resolve and resilience.

Let’s take a trip back in time. Four days before I delivered my (feisty, independent, brave) daughter, in the fall of 2003, I waddled onto a stage to speak at a local conference on early childhood development. Over the year or so leading up to that date I had been working with a coalition of…

The living and the dead.

This may seem disjointed; that’s simply the way things are. My friend Harriet, the Harriet who is very much alive, is a quilter. She sews the most beautiful quilts (and other things, too) and has the best sewing adventures to tell, stories I would share except that they are hers and not mine. I mention…

After and before.

When I started writing this, 143 days ago, I was sitting on a porch in Santa Rosa, Florida. It was quiet, because it was early, and the sky was just beginning to lighten. I was alone, save for the birds. There was coffee, the sound of waves, a flutter of breeze, an occasional car on…

A story in a suitcase.

I am wearing a set of devices that I affectionately, without a trace of affection, call SPANX for teeth. If you are a man then this reference is possibly lost on you, though I suspect if you are one of the regulars here then you are the sort of man who has a woman friend…