The downside of a house of mementoes is that it is hard to throw anything out.  I think the oldest thing I  have is something that eluded getting thrown out by several generations, but I don’t really know its story.  This is all I know. Read More

In the Before time, every evening the news god spoke. Read More

“You don’t look Chinese!” Read More

I write because Suzy Underwood put out a plea to my college class listserv for stories about interviews, and I thought I had a good one. Read More

On my first day, it was show time. I nervously knocked on the door and entered to find a pleasant young man who listened patiently as I introduced myself in halting Spanish and asked what had brought him to the clinic.  Read More

As my mother descended into dementia, her letters stopped, and we kept in touch through phone calls, increasingly with my father alone.  By the time my mother died, he had become my confidante and mutual support system. Read More

I have spent years of my life trying to come to terms with on-call sleep deprivation. Read More

I felt uncomfortable packing the book and uncomfortable leaving it behind. Read More

My father was leaving the lecture hall when he stepped out of the doorway and a snowball—or more accurately, an ice ball—came hurling from the side and hit him directly across his open eye. Read More

So proud you are all contributing members of society. Read More