This past March, as those of you following my blog already know, my partner Karyn and I took my 86-year-old mother, who is frail and suffers from dementia, on a trip from California to Florida so she could see her last surviving sibling one final time. The two sisters hadn’t seen each other in seven years and neither or them thought they’d ever see each other again, so the trip was definitely an act of kindness, a mission of mercy—one that was extremely gratifying for everyone involved. The ... [Continue Reading]
Bleeding Onto the Page
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” --Ernest Hemingway There is a deep excavation process that goes on when a writer is trying to write from the deep places that real, true writing come from. This is true regardless of genre—whether the writer is composing fiction, non-fiction, or memoir. Getting to the core of an difficult issue, tapping real emotion, a painful piece of our past or a basic truth about life—the kind of deep truth that enlivens all good writing—requires that we take the plunge and dive into some of the most difficult and painful parts of our history and our psyche. Recently, I had the opportunity to write about these issues to a student ... [Continue Reading]
Saying Goodbye for the Last Time
It’s our last morning in Florida. I booked a late afternoon plane so we could get a direct flight home—and not have to rouse Temme for an early morning flight. This morning, Uncle Ben had to go to dialysis and I knew he'd be there for five hours, so I knew I had to say goodbye to him this morning. We shared an awkward hug—I didn’t want to knock him over—I thanked him for his hospitality and told him I loved him. Then I watched him walk with his lopsided gait slowly to the car, listening to the tap-tap of his cane all the way down the long cement pathway. Ben carried a worn insulated lunch bag, the same one he’s carried three ... [Continue Reading]
In the Air and On the Ground
The morning went smoothly. Mom was disoriented when she woke up and had taken all her clothes off in the night, but I dressed her easily and helped her into the bathroom. When it came time to help her into her Depends and lift her off the toilet, I felt nothing but tenderness—and then my whole body sagged in relief. I was no longer that angry teenager or that estranged, distant adult. I loved my mother and I was ready to do this for her. This trip was really going to be okay. On the drive over to the airport, Mom enjoyed the waning moon, still up high in the sky. She commented on the changing colors of dawn all the way over Highway 17 as we headed north toward San Francisco. I realized that in ... [Continue Reading]
