Tag: father



My dad was a lifelong salaried worker at “Ford’s” as the company was known around Dearborn. He was a company guy. My family bought and drove only Fords. We still do — five of them between me, my mom and my brother. “Ford put bread on this table…” I rememberRead More

Forecast: Scud missile skies

Scud missile skies broke this morning, a fitting way to commemorate the day I entered into motherhood seven years ago. Pre-Real Thing, I had a kind of pastel-hued, soft-focus vision of what motherhood would be like. Not quite Precious Moments, but no clouds marred my clear blue horizon. Twenty-seven hoursRead More

Wherever I go, there you are

en years on, it’s tempting to think about all he’s missed:   My marriage My first book The first grandchild (his third) The second grandchild (his fifth) Those are just the biggies. Maybe even more significant are the smaller events. The birthdays, the holidays, the family vacations. Times when aRead More