For my entire adult life, I have been a “mandated reporter” in my state. As a teacher, I have been tasked with reporting any potential incident of child abuse or neglect that came my way. To ignore possible child endangerment would mean breaking the law.
My husband is a clinical psychologist, so he is also a mandated reporter. As are our daughter the teacher and our son, who works with at-risk adolescents.
All of us have been through dozens of rigorous professional development classes aimed at helping us to recognize the signs of abuse and neglect. …
For as long as I can remember, I’ve heard conservative Americans crowing about their patriotism. I’ve heard them bragging about their support for the military, telling lefties like me that “Freedom ain’t free” and that real Americans aren’t afraid to fight for it.
I’ve read countless comments about what a bunch of bleeding hearts we are on the left. About how weak we are, how fearful of getting our hands dirty and doing hard work. If you ask them, all of us progressive ‘snowflakes’ just stand around wringing our hands and waiting for people to give us handouts.
About fifteen years ago, we put a chain link fence around a section of our yard. We’d finally gotten ourselves a puppy, and it had taken no time at all for him to convince us that if we didn’t have a fence, we’d have a happy hound dog rambling around the neighborhood chasing every chipmunk in sight.
He was not going to stay in place unless we fenced him in.
So that’s exactly what we did.
It was a good move, puppy-wise, but that fence was less than attractive. …
I don’t know about you, but I have been feeling increasingly hopeless these days. I have been struggling with the realization that I have virtually no control over what will happen in my life in the next few years.
I can’t stop the climate crisis, no matter how many “plastic free” soaps I buy. I don’t have a way to slow or stop the Covid pandemic, other than wearing my mask and getting my shot. I can’t control the flow of lies that is sweeping the country, or the twisting of reality that I see every day on social media.
I remember the morning of 9/12/2001. I was a teacher, and I had been with my students when the horrific events of the day before had unfolded.
I remember how we tried to protect the kids from the reality of what was happening. I remember our principal asking all of us to turn off TVs and to not talk about what was taking place around the country. I remember spending a planning period in my office, helping colleagues call friends and relatives who may have been in the Towers, or on one of the flights.
I remember my principal coming…
I am one of those “ham in the middle of the sandwich” folks. I find myself poised awkwardly between my aging parent and my coming-of-age children.
My Mom is 91 years old, dealing with dementia and increasing physical fragility. She is still funny and kind and feisty, but she is fading with every passing day.
I see her as my future.
And my youngest child just got married. He is young, eager, deeply in love and ready to take on the future.
I am in the middle.
I look at my future in the form of my Mom, and I…
So I have to say, I have very strong feelings about abortion. I am the mother of three, and I spent several years desperately trying to have a baby.
As a fertility patient, I learned a lot about the desperation to reproduce that motivates so many of us. I shared that desperation. I have spent many hours gazing into my bathroom mirror and wondering, “why am I not worthy of becoming a mother?”
And I understand the power and importance of a brand-new pregnancy, and how profoundly it changes a woman. One of the saddest moments of my life was…
Looking back at the memories of 9/11
As we come up to the twentieth anniversary of the horrific terrorist attacks of 9/11, I find myself deeply saddened and profoundly demoralized.
I’m re-reading the timeline of that day. I’m watching news shows and documentaries. I’m remembering so many of the terrifying details that unfolded through the course of that awful day.
But I’m also remembering many of the heroic and selfless details, too. Do you remember the images of the firefighters, stoically climbing the stairs toward the fires? The look in their eyes will haunt me forever.
Do you remember the…
Some people say that millennials are lazy. They say that this generation wants everything simply handed to them, that they lack a work ethic, that they are naive and irresponsible.
Every generation seems to look on the one before it as archaic and uninformed, and the one after it as somehow less worthy than their parents.
I’ve never understood this tendency, and have often shrugged it off as a natural human need to believe that “we” are better than “they” are. …
I’m sure of it.
Somewhere, somehow, in the past few months, Paul and I have definitely offended some seriously evil force in the universe.
If you saw my last post, where I said “ It could be worse “, you know that my usually reliable good luck has kind of evaporated. What with the return of Covid, my strange blood issues and upcoming cancer surgery, a big old hurricane coming along….it’s beginning to feel like this might be a good time to huddle on the bed in the pile of bubble wrap.
Because, you know what?
Stuff just got worse.