Patricia Crisafulli

The marquee announced an auspicious event: The 50th anniversary tour of the Beach Boys, whose guitar strumming and tight harmonies helped usher in a new era of music. A half century ago, the Beach Boys were the three teenaged Wilson brothers -- Brian, Carl and Dennis -- cousin Mike Love...

The heron, I suspected, had something to say, not that I expected it to break out into speech or even birdsong. Yet as this great, gray-feathered creature folded its long legs, flapped its expansive wings and settled on my garage roof, I regarded it as a sign of some sort,...

"All art," says Mia McNary, "comes out of emotion."

As an artist and a mother, McNary has a full repertoire. She knows the joy of the accomplishments of her three children: Patrick, 13, whom she describes as a "deep thinker"; Mary Jane, 10, who is "super creative" and Colin, 12,...

The music pulsed through the room a little too loudly, its rhythm bouncing off walls and bodies until we began to move in an uneven unison, our hands, feet and hips trying to mimic our teacher's every move.

To the outside world, we were a dozen sweaty women -- at...

Like a worn-out sweater or a tattered blanket full of moth holes, it no longer serves any useful purpose other than being familiar. It isn't even that comforting. But for years, without knowing any better, we have wrapped ourselves up in it. I'm talking about our stories.

These are...

We could all use a little grace now and then. Whether you define it as an unexpected blessing, a stroke of luck, or a spiritual wink from above, grace breathes into ordinary life with encouragement and inspiration. Fortune and fortitude rolled into one, grace keeps us going, particularly on the...

Old dreams do not have to die. Sometimes they are merely dormant, waiting for the right awakening through a mixture of desire and circumstance.

Jesse McKnight was "this" close to getting his doctorate in English literature from Kent State in September 1970, when he simply walked away, knowing that he...

She's in her mid-80s, definitely spry for her age, her face framed by waves of thick white hair. An author, she's written numerous books, taught writing workshops and traveled extensively. With so much life experience, she's one of the wisest women I know.

Grandmother? Aged aunt? Elderly neighbor? Sagacious friend?...

"Do you suppose she's wearing underwear?" Lola whispered, her query only loud enough for my ears.

The woman in question was a statuesque Greek goddess of a gal, sitting bewitchingly on a stone outcropping with her elbow poised on one shapely knee. Just below her, coming up the path, strode...

Take back the day. Valentine's, that is.

Rather than focus so much attention on our "one true love," it's time to remember those who have been there for us; through thick and thin (and not just our waistlines) and all manner of relationships (marriages, divorces, the ones we never should...

"I'm not creative at all," a woman I know confided. "Not an ounce of it in me."

How could this be possible, that an attractive, fun-loving woman sees herself as completely devoid of creativity? Maybe she can't sing or dance on stage, and a blank canvas would give...

The lament of the frustrated artist often goes something like this: "If I won the lottery, then I could pursue my art." Given the proverbial one-in-a-million odds of having the winning number, though, we content ourselves with only musing about what we could be if we did not have to...

The tree bark bit roughly through my thin blouse into my back, and I had to shift to avoid a particularly hard ridge against my spine. But I could not and would not move. On that summer day, more than 12 years ago, I sat on the ground beneath...

It was dead, lifeless as a rock in the yard. The loss would have been far less if I hadn't invested the symbolism in it, after my friend, Therese, gave me an image to contemplate of a peach pit in my heart containing my hopes and dreams for the future....

It's just before Christmas. Sugar plums, not emails and deadlines, should be dancing through my head. But of course, before heading out for their respective holidays, two publishers dumped client manuscripts on me for one last review with the ubiquitous "Happy Holidays" sign-off. One of them wants corrections back by...

Many years ago I shared a short story I had written with a woman who was among my acquaintances--not a close friend, mind you, or someone I viewed as an encourager. For whatever reason, her opinion suddenly mattered to me. After reading my story she smirked at me and said,...