Aunt Marcie's church taught my mother that the Great Command to "love you neighbor as yourself" was the core of of both American democracy and the Christian faith. My mother took it all very seriously. Not only did she endlessly give things away but stood up for social justice.
Cancer gave my Uncle Wit the freedom to be open, expressive, emotive, talkative and connected to those he has always loved deeply.
Sandra Gabrilove Saltzman, who died late on the night of December 24 at the age of 63, attended the Ethical Culture School in Manhattan, Fieldston High School in Riverdale, NY, Brown University, and New York University School of Law. This eulogy was delivered at her funeral.
This is a petition to the publishers, producers and editors in all the network news organizations and 24-hour cable news channels. Across the spectrum...
I eagerly devoured the entire Redwall series, exploring the world Brian Jacques created, learning the histories of its characters, reaching out to know everything about this creation that had passed from Jacques's mind into my own.
You know we will all die, and hopefully have some sort of ceremony where loved ones and others get to say goodbye to us. But that inevitable death can make a big difference in the way we live our life today.
Had you asked me a week ago if I liked Ray Bradbury, I would have said "Yes, of course." But it's today, reflecting upon his reported "death." that I am most fully moved by the power of his work.
I hadn't seen Ion's daughter in twenty-some odd years. I greeted her warmly and asked how she was doing, thinking she probably had no idea we'd met before. "Not so good," she said, "This is a bad day." Now I knew.
When I was holding her in those last moments as her breaths slowed, her eyes, which had half shut and glazed, suddenly opened, focused on me and then beyond me.
I grieve for Fred Phelps. The man spent a great portion of his time on earth using his gifts in such a hurtful, and ultimately silly way. But I won't picket his funeral. I won't dance on his grave. I will try not to emulate him in any way.
This has been the hardest eulogy for me to write. I cried almost every step of the way. I miss him greatly. I know we all do. His smile, sense of humor, warmth, wisdom and vision. We have lost a giant.
In this week's vlog, I talk about why it can be challenging for us to focus on what truly matters and why we're often caught up in our desire to "get ahead" (aka focus on our resume).
Technological advancement is considered human advancement, but somewhere along the line, we have become sloppy about keeping up with the very things that make us human. How can anything compare to the words I say as I look into the eyes of someone important to me?
"The promise of Christmas with its theme of natality," Elshtain maintained, entails the perennial "possibility that something new and unexpected might burst through the crust of 'the same'
With my legs spread out in front of me, exhausted and in total fear, I pray repeatedly "Lord, don't let my son die." EMT officials administer RCAN, but the heart monitor set up a few feet away is flat-lined. He died in my arms.
Doris Lessing's death came hard to me. Her impact as a writer was magical, igniting women to find their callings and live more authentic lives. Her semi-autobiographical novel, The Golden Notebook, limned what life would be like if only women could step outside the girdle of society's constraints of how we ought to behave.