My parents–well, really my father — would not allow me to work, other than babysitting, before I was an adult.  ‘Adult’ was apparently something my father thought he could proclaim when the time came and not necessarily on my 21st birthday.  My babysitting money got me through adolescence. You see, my Dad was raised during… Read More

i think this is the space I need to write my story.  Please bear with me through it, dear reader.  It is painful for me to write, but write it I must.  For some odd reason, a personal journal does not fill my needs. I have never been good at journaling.  It feels too much… Read More

Oy. Way to make me feel old, kid. Read More

I was not nearly as concerned with the minutiae of planning my wedding as I was with the marriage that would follow.  In 1975, I married the love of my life (Don) following an almost three year engagement.  Three years in which we finished college degrees, endured parents on both sides who did not want… Read More