It’s the 1990s. I’m teaching a seminar on spirituality. At the beginning of the class I hand out to each participant, including me, a blank piece of paper and crayons. The assignment is simple: draw and color your childhood image of God. You have 5 minutes.
I drew and still have my image: Read the rest of this entry »
It’s 1960. I’m 16 years old and I just graduated from high school. I thought you’d like to see how I filled in the gaps between Daddy’s Sex Ed 101 and my graduation.
My Sex Ed 102 Learning Resources with Annotations by Me
*My parents’ everyday relationship with each other. Mother seems to have no voice and no vote. Read the rest of this entry »
It’s 1954. We just finished breakfast, and are sitting around the dinner table. Sister #4 is about one year old. Mother is holding her at one end of the table. Daddy is sitting at the ‘head’ of the table. Sisters #2 and #3 and I are present. We don’t know it, but Sex Ed 101 for Daughters is about to begin. Read the rest of this entry »
light-hearted gusts send
brilliant cotton clouds tumbling
across sea-blue sky
* * * * *
the storm
passed last night
today’s air is clean, strong, heady Read the rest of this entry »
Am I ready? Never. But I want to begin somewhere. So here goes.
Jesus, Mary and all other daughters of Eve
Female bodies were not celebrated in my family. Too bad. When I was a child and young teenager my female body was regularly ignored, observed, commented upon, shamed, ridiculed, Read the rest of this entry »
January 9, 1996, 9:00pm, Philadelphia
The phone rings. Hi. It’s Diane. I’m not well – no easy way to tell you – not post-polio, but ALS – I’m going to need help, a lot of help. I hang up and go downstairs, weeping as I tell my family the news.
January 30, 1996, late afternoon, Houston
I walk off the plane and see Diane standing in front of a pillar. Small floral print on navy dress, empire waist and smocked bodice – ivory stockings – very pretty – gold chains – hair highlights in blond – stoop-shouldered and slow. Read the rest of this entry »
frozen in memory
erupting without warning
dear earth gasps for air
* * * * *
haunting
sounds of
choking
escalate
no words
no breath
no time Read the rest of this entry »
The last line of the dream names my hunger: “She seems lonely for someone to talk with about real life.” Other parts of the dream identify behaviors I might want to leave behind, and a few unexpected personal capacities and resources. This post focuses on my hunger, and describes how things begin falling apart. Read the rest of this entry »
Hunger. A fierce, relentless presence. Sometimes for food when I was a child, later for sisterly conversation. Not friendly polite talk, but safe, open, honest two-way conversation about our fears, agonies and dreams as we were growing up in the 1950s.
It wasn’t that we consciously chose not to talk with each other as sisters; it just wasn’t safe. Besides, back then I wasn’t aware of being hungry for this. I focused instead on staying out of trouble. Sadly, I didn’t pull that off very well. Read the rest of this entry »
My father set out to attain one goal: to break my will. So did he? Back then I would have argued that he most certainly did NOT break my will! See how much spunk I still have in me? Just listen to the angry voices in my head! I might be sitting down on the outside, but I’M DEFINITELY STANDING UP ON THE INSIDE! Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 