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Act Two, Castledawson, Family, Memoir, Mother Daughter Relationship, Mother's Day, Northern Ireland, Northern Ireland Culture, Ordinary Things, Poetry, Rites of passage, Rituals, Seamus Heaney
still we dance – on mother’s day in america
This weekend marks another Mother’s Day without the man who made a mother out of me, the man who loved me so well and for so long. Our girl plans to take time off work to spend the day with me, and we know – but we keep it to ourselves – that looking forward to a special Sunday together will lead to looking back to the…
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Belfast, Blogging, Brian Baird, cancer, Education, Fathers and sons, favorite teacher, Memoir, News, Northern Ireland, Seamus Heaney, Sectarianism, Social Media, television, The Diviner, The Forge, The Troubles, Walter Kronkite, Writing
In appreciation of a teacher . . .
Remembering Brian Baird . . . Once upon a time, before news traveled at break-neck speed to our smart phones and our Cable TV networks, we waited for it. We had no choice, and when “the news” came on at teatime, it was a serious affair that demanded our attention. It was rarely, if ever, about a new animal born at…
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Act Two, After death of a spouse, Art, Awesome Women, Death and dying, Laurie Anderson, Lou Reed, Love, Marriage, Memoir, Music, Rites of passage, saying goodbye, Scaffolding, Seamus Heaney
perfecting a marriage
Laurie Anderson tells this story about the day she married her best friend, Lou Reed: It was spring in 2008 when I was walking down a road in California feeling sorry for myself and talking on my cell with Lou. “There are so many things I’ve never done that I wanted to do,” I said. “Like what?” “You know, I…
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Arizona Humane Society, Chihuahuas, Dog Rescue, Dogs, Door into the Dark, Greyhound, Loss, Love, Mary Oliver, Memoir, Rites of passage, Seamus Heaney, Starting over, The Midnight Anvil
for national puppy day – an emotional rescue
A dog can never tell you what she knows from the smells of the world, but you know, watching her, that you know almost nothing. ~ Mary Oliver, Dog Songs First there was Molly, a retired racer who loved me. We had rescued her in the Christmas of 2008, on the heels of a spectacular crisis in my professional life, and…
