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Imagine A Day

September 13, 2015 • By

September 13, 2015

My grandmother was an old woman the day I met her. Her name was Bessie. Not short for anything, just Bessie. I lived in Colorado. She lived in Falls Creek, Pennsylvania. We only visited there a few times. Her room smelled of age, the floors echoed time, and creaked a history we grandchildren would learn little about.

She was an artist. She drew and she painted with all kinds of materials including the most detailed brown ink on paper imaginable.

                                ink church

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August Car Trips from Hell

August 11, 2015 • By

August 11, 2015

Parents still stress over car trips with children. Standing in the grocery line I overheard a mother with two young children whining to the cashier about the impending stress of driving four hours to the coast of southern Maryland. By the sounds of it, she wasn’t looking forward to the trip at all.

Her droning included reference to impatience suffered in an air conditioned car with more cup holders than seats and individual DVD players for passengers in the back rows. She would get no sympathy from me. I know what a car trip from hell is like.

Five kids and suitcases stuffed into the back and underneath two bench seats of a 1963 VW bus, pedal-to-the-metal top speed when empty, 66mph. Dad at the wheel, Mom riding in the navigator seat with a lap filled with maps- made of real paper. None of us would make sainthood.