You’ll never guess where I am right now. Yes ma’am. Down Virginia way. The unbelievable mercy of Jesus, that’s what I call it— That she is well enough to sit up, to eat fried chicken, to laugh at my jokes. That I was provided with a complimentary ride to Virginia on Monday, and a complimentary […]
Her world is receding, shrinking into a pale aqua cube with bright lights, lots of cords, an IV drip for every need, and a trio of inhabitants: herself, her husband, and her mother. The hospital staff are waiters and butlers, serving IV’s, checking the cords, and bowing themselves out. She is receding too. Like a babe
Dear Reader, In writing to you today I am pretending that you are one person, instead of the unwieldy and three-dimensional herd of actuality. It’s kind of hard talking personally to a herd. Condense yourself if you will. There, that’s better. You and I are sitting together over tea. I want to talk to you
I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues. —Dr. Seuss ***** Dear Ladies, Having written a note to the other half of the species, I would like to direct a comment your way as well. Once upon a time I tried to convince my four-year-old son Aarick, who was in danger of
I speak for the trees Read More »
Dear Gentlemen, Not too many of you read this blog, and even fewer are single; but I know some of you out there, and perhaps you could help pass the word to your compadres. Did you know that most single women are not single by choice? Love, Shari Zook
Confession: This post is exactly two weeks overdue. At Valentine’s Day, I gathered some perspectives on love from women at three different stages of life: a newlywed, a seasoned wife, and a single lady. I did some homework, asked for input on my questions… and then spent Valentine’s Day burying my grandpa. But love is never out
This stage of life and love Read More »
Confession: All I wanted was to raise kids who were polite and well-mannered; intelligent kids who knew how to think. Well. *cough* They know how to think. You may well say it was a trifling goal, a sideline aspiration. (Most of mine are.) I agree with you, but I still wouldn’t have chosen this Regan-path
Preschool training Read More »
Confession: The only thing worse than seeing someone for the last time is not seeing someone for the last time. It wasn’t my grandpa after all. Someone had taken him away and left a wax effigy; not a very good one, though they obviously tried. The cheeks and mouth were all wrong. And the hands
Hard workin hands. Logger man hands. I remember how they felt around mine when I was seven, tagging along on his errands. I remember how they looked holding the whoopie pies I baked him, their smooth circles dwarfed by his huge fingers. All of his sons were big sturdy men with hands to match, but
The best part about Grandpa Read More »
When my friend Amy walked into The Sweet Shop* that day, she stepped with the confident mien of one who knew from experience how great these gals’ cakes were. She’d ordered two before. The little mom-and-pop operation in downtown Meadville produces made-from-scratch, delectable chunks of sweetness, prettily custom-decorated. What could be better? The Sweet Shop