My mother would have been startled by the extent of her memorial service but not half as much as I was when an unexpected guest came to speak. After nearly a year of witnessing my mother’s slow and steady decline, the day had finally come to discuss her funeral. In…
From the time of ancient kings, people have appreciated humor arising from the behavior and appearance of fools. Throughout history, such characters have taken many forms. Comedic actors have created entertaining personas that reappear in performance after performance. Others adapt idiotic conduct to real-world figures in an attempt to mock…
For the last two weeks, I’ve been taking an online course on writing creative nonfiction. The instructor, Josh Rivkin, has provided a steady stream of informative tips, interesting reading assignments, and inspiring prompts. My blog for this week features the beginning of a longer story about my trip to Montpellier,…
This spring will mark the 3-year anniversary of the devastating fire that destroyed the roof of the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. A day after the inferno, President Emmanuel Macron announced to the world that within 5 years France would “rebuild Notre Dame Cathedral, more beautiful than ever”. Since then,…
I’m not a big fan of winter. Living in Michigan, in a drafty old house, I’m perpetually cold from November through April. Yet, I appreciate the month of January. The days already seem noticeably longer and there is snow on the ground, helping to brighten the season’s gloom. I also…
In 1992, my husband Andy and I camped for 4 nights at Mount Rainier National Park in Washington state. It was our first trip to this spectacular park—a magnificent wilderness that ironically, Andy was indifferent to visiting. While hiking one day, we spotted a sign for the Wonderland Trail—a ~100-mile…
I started watching soccer when my son was in the first grade. That is if you can call watching a bunch of 6-year olds crowding around a soccer ball, swinging their undersized cleats at each other’s shins, watching soccer. To be fair, the kids did more than just hover around…
The day my father, Charles Neubrecht, headed off to college, his mother Lucile pleaded with him not to go. In telling the story, my dad would paint my grandmother as a loving but nervous woman who relied heavily on her youngest son. In contrast, my dad’s characterization of himself depicted…
