This afternoon, I walked away from the lunch table at my son’s school and a woman’s voice followed me. “Is that your son?” I held the back of my hand up. Was it rude of me? I didn’t care. Not one more word. I had heard enough. She had already tried to talk to me and I had ignored her,
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When I was a little girl, I was girly about ladybugs. I loved them. I loved in particular the idea of taking a VW Bug and decorating it like a real-life, breathing, belching personification of all things ladybug. I loved them so much, I wrote stories about the little Ladybug I’d own someday.
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The kids and I moved five days after they started in their new schools on August 15, 2015. The move itself was crazy, and done in small and large parts. I began house hunting in a town called Linden, a suburb of Front Royal. A wonderful realtor named Sue Laurence from Re/Max helped us through the entire process.
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Two years ago and two months, I moved with my three children to Front Royal, Virginia. For you Jersey natives who go by exits, that’s exit 13 off Route 66, which runs from DC all the way to its end point thirteen miles west of Front Royal. If you’re looking at a map,
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We live in confusing times. I keep turning thoughts over as I peruse headlines and spot pictures of men carrying sticks, pipes and guns while supposedly enjoying their First Amendment right to peacefully assemble. I get stuck in weird places. Like I’ll be mid-sentence saying, “White supremacists in Charlottesville weren’t looking to peacefully assemble.
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I know a lot of people who have served in the military; I also know a lot who have practiced law. I, in fact, practiced law for several years. In both professions, you have to follow certain rules. You have to keep in mind that the law is above your needs or wants–you must behave with a sincere respect for the law of the land,
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Yesterday, my fiancé and I were shopping at Wal-Mart and sure enough, after about an hour, my phone blinged with three quick text messages. I knew without looking that it was my daughter, because I’ve set my iPhone to announce her texts with a cheerful sounding quasi-musical electronic signal. But what I read was anything but cheerful.
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What would happen if China or Korea or Russia or Mexico sent drones in to drop bombs on Chicago?
Imagine for a moment the scenario. Let’s say Mexico had the influence and power, the chutzpah and the arrogance, to argue that we were not policing our drug dealers or the terrorists who live within our American borders.
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Where are we and what are we doing?
I awoke to this question, inchoate, unformed, and after a brief moment of reflection, elucidated in the early morning fog of my dream world. I was stuck in a recurring dream I have been having. In last night’s version,
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I’ve been thinking about how to address Donald Trump’s ascendancy, and it took me a few days to process the election and see it clearly for what it is. My starting place is one of love for my brothers and sisters, but I must admit this election is a little hard for me.
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