Friends + Family

Division without Separation

My mom claims that when we were young, she would occasionally go into her bedroom with a book, lock the door behind her and leave my dad in...

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Not Pompeii

On our way to school last week, Atticus, 12, and I discuss our black cat’s willingness to lie in the driveway, unafraid or oblivious to...

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I Am Jodi Arias’s Mother

This interview is the first time Sandy Arias has spoken publicly about her daughter Jodi Arias. Sandra Dee Allen was born in 1958 in a...

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My Mother’s Heart

I remember my fascination as a young girl of six or seven, laying on my parent’s king size bed watching my mother comb out her long,...

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Hey, Mom Next Door – I See You

I admit I didn’t really like you when we first met. We had only been in the house a month when you came over with your 12-year-old son,...

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A Hollywood Mystery: I was a Black Market Baby

I learned I was a black market baby when I was 14. There was no legal adoption, and it’s still unclear if money had changed hands. The...

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Love in the Time of Dementia

My mom desires a closeness with me now that she never did when I was young. I’d long suspected my mother didn’t embrace parenting in...

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I Am Your Mother

I’m your mother, but no I’m not listening. You’re talking in the backseat of the car. I hear you, barely. I’m your...

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Being a Birthmother on Mother’s Day

As with most pregnant teens during the “love generation,” I was told that the right thing to do was to relinquish my baby to a...

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Come Back to Me Lemon

Well, this is absolutely going to ruin my love of all things lemon, I thought as I held a lemon swab in my mom’s mouth for her. This...

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What We Hold Inside

(for the Goddess & Kay) The scent of cinnamon, brown sugar, & sweet butter slide up my nostrils like an entire childhood. It is the...

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By Any Means Necessary

My mother’s hair was high in the sixties, beehive style. A social climber, she secured invitations to every ritzy...

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Sister of My Soul

Excuse me, do I know you? I vaguely remember your face We were friends once, the very best friends We were tight, so very close Secrets...

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The Weight of Being a Woman

As I sit here six months pregnant, I ponder about my life and what my existence has become. So many women have told me how beautiful the...

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My Non-Television Mother and Me: The Apology

Part 3 of a 3 part series. After interviewing my mother, reading through the archives of my memoirs, taking note of the dark memories that...

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Sister Connection

we speak every six months or so my sister who moved away from me or me from her over time husband’s interests pulling us from hope to...

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Hazel

Hazel Byorum’s face was a map of wrinkles and sagging, topography disintegrating because gravity worked overtime on her. Wiry hair sprung...

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In Between the Rain

Have I been good enough, Mother? Oh how I miss the days when your skin was smooth, and bronzed How your smile beamed when you saw my little...

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Finding Rudy

“Friendship … is born at the moment when one man says to another “What! You too? I thought that no one but...

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The Fencing War

When I hear the term passive-aggressive, I immediately think of my wife. Don’t get me wrong; she’s not callous, cruel or...

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The Two-Faced Friend

“We’re not even friends anymore” The two-faced bitch, says, and I’m not sure who exactly she means. I am certainly trying, so hard,...

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My Non-Television Mother and Me: The Interview

Read Part 1 here.  Part 2 of a 3 part series In an attempt to understand my mother a little better, I asked her a couple of questions that...

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Finding the Right Travel Partner

Now that you are part of the Baby Boomer generation or close to it, you may have the freedom to travel and be able to leave your home at...

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A Mother’s Lessons Lead to Her Final Gift

“I want to die.” It was hard to hear when my mother first said the words to me over the phone, but I understood why she felt that way....

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Rise Up

You know what I don’t like, hate actually? All the people who are saying they “don’t care” about politics, or what’s happening in...

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You are the Star of Trade Town, Davey!

Me at nine years old: “Look! It’s a brand new 1975 AMC Pacer! Isn’t it groovy? I got the keys. Wanna take it for a ride?”...

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