You know how sometimes you read that if you go back to what you loved doing when you were a little kid—four, five, or six—then that will tell you what your ideal occupation should be? Well, in my case, this is exactly true, because when I was a little girl, my favorite thing in the…
Tag: Writing
My Dad: Frozen in My Mind at Sixty-Eight
Tomorrow is my dad’s birthday. He would be astonishingly old now—124—since he was born in 1903 and was fifty when I was born. It’s funny how time works. I have him frozen just as he was when he died in 1972, when I was nineteen years old. He was just a few weeks away from…
The Geography of Memory
Whenever I drive back to Texas, the minute I hit the border from New Mexico, a calm settles over me. Not that West Texas is my home, but still, I can see the big open sky and the flat plains, and I hear that West Texas closed-mouth drawl when I stop for gas. These are…
Echoes of Childhood, Carried on the Wind
The sound of a train whistle instantly takes me back to my childhood. There is something about its long, lonesome call that moves me out of the present moment and into memory, as if time briefly folds in on itself. I would have been less than nine years old when I first came to know…
A Gift from One of My Students: His Success
I recently received a text from one of my students, whom I helped with his dental school applications and, more recently, his residency applications. This is what he wrote: Good morning, Len! I hope everything has been well with you and your family, as well as your recent publication. I wanted to update you on…
The Quiet Language of Touch
I have a strong memory of spending a lot of time when I was a little girl snuggled up in bed next to my mother, her skin warm and her smell comforting. In that memory, my mother is always reading, and her arm is around me so that I am nestled next to her. I…
All Abroad: The Train’s A’Coming
The anniversary of my mother’s death is tomorrow. She’s been gone 26 years. I wrote this piece a while back, but I think it expresses some of my thoughts on my mother’s passing. I loved her very much and miss her every day. A train is a means of conveyance that moves on a track…
For Nico, on His Tenth Birthday
Today, my grandson Nico turns ten years old. As his grandma, I want to say a few things about this young man, who is so special to me. I don’t quite know how to express all the love I feel and am already certain that my attempt will not measure up to what’s in my…
Nothing Like a Good Binge
Sleep. I need eight hours of sleep a night. That’s usually fine—but when Ray and I stumble upon a compelling series, it’s much easier to forgo sleep than to exercise a little discipline and go to bed at 10:30 or 11 instead of 12:30 or 1. I tend to do better with a 10:30–6:30 (or…
Sharp Edges, Softened
This blog post was inspired by a college essay question one of my students was required to answer: Give a brief self-interview that will help us get to know you better. Reading the prompt, I realized it invited deep reflection, so I decided to answer the prompt myself. 1) You have clearly done quite a…
20 Minutes a Day 