Today would have been Grandma's 91st birthday. She was supposed to have nine more years -- she was supposed to live to be 100. That's what I always had planned for. But she died at 89, fighting her way to the grave, relentlessly arguing with the unforgiving bright white light that took her away from me.
Perceptual change is powerful. Knowing our roots and honoring our ancestors is a transformative way to rearrange the social fabric of our society. ...
I want my little boy, and his big brother, to grow up in a world of real gender equity. Of equal pay for equal work. Where moms are proud of their work both out in the world and at home -- and where dads get credit only when we take on a fair share of parenting.
This is my fifteenth Father's Day without my dad. He died of heart failure, a couple of months shy of his 79th birthday. He took his last breath quite peacefully while I sat by his bedside. He was gone. And so was a family history I'd neglected to plumb.
Flag Day, in the US, has now been co-opted by folks who have their own agenda, and frankly, it's a frightening one.
I met the love of my life in the Florida Keys and the night before he left to go back home to Michigan, we walked down to a little dock to watch the sunset.
She's in the playroom when Goldie plays. She's by my side while I'm working at my office. She's on Julie's shoulder while her and Goldie play at the playground.
Every morning, she would gather us all around and she would heat up the freshly milked pot from the home cows.
My grandmothers were the quintessential matrons: they grew lush gardens, baked pies, canned peaches and then peacefully passed away in their nineties. My life has been a bit different, and I just hope I don't die tomorrow by getting hit by a wine truck while dancing in the street.
In a world that sometimes feels like it's going to hell in a handbasket (and the handles of the hand-basket are ratty and chafing), Life in the Boomer Lane invites you to step back and ask the following: "What kind of world to we want for our grandchildren?" LBL's own answer is "One that is better, in many ways, than this one."
When I was your age, it was basically impossible to lose a phone. If all else failed, you started at the wall jack and followed the line. There were cellphones, or, as we called them at the time, "carphones." Nobody we knew actually had one, though.
Just hug. My Grandma died one year ago today. I don't believe anyone really truly dies, because I believe we are a spirit encapsulated in a physic...
I have been called many things in my life, not all of them repeatable in polite company, which I am seldom in anyway. But the one I love to hear repeated is Poppie, which is what I am called by my 2-year-old granddaughter, Chloe.
I plan to be my grandson's favorite person in the world. I want to be that wise person he feels safe enough to come to with any question. I want him to know he can always tell me any and everything.
... and I have the energy of someone twice my age!
Glamorous is all well and good for some, but there's a dignity, an honor, a self-confidence that comes when someone embraces where they're at in life, be it a mother or grandmother, rather than trying to deny the passage of time.