My father passed away on February 20. I spent 12 years dealing with the tragedy of his disease. Now, I am free to experience the sorrow of this loss. My father was the best thing that ever happened to me because he was the one who made sure we all went to church when I was little. I loved him very...
Growing up, I went to church three times a week, and even when I wasn’t listening to my dad’s sermons, some part of me was paying attention. My recall of things I didn’t know I knew surprises me sometimes. Often, my father pounded the pulpit in fits of hell, fire, and brimstone....
Frankie’s Diner Over on the edge of town Neon sign spinnin’ round Like a cross over the lost and found –From Springsteen and Girls In Their Summer Clothes Jesus Saves Sign Last weekend, my husband Robert and I took a drive down by the Oklahoma City Boathouse District. I wanted to...
This poem was written by my father, William Edgar Elliott, in 1965. He wrote it for my brother Billy who had just started Kindergarten. My son Sullivan’s last day of Kindergarten is tomorrow!I’ve never posted any of my father’s poetry on the Internet, but this poem has already...
Sometimes, my father would joke, “I feel like I’m fading.” Other times, sitting across the table from me at breakfast, he’d tell me he felt out of sorts. I’d ask him what he meant, and he’d wave a firm palm in front of his face and say, “Just out of...
My dad always told me to keep my eyes peeled. It was just one of those funny things he always said, like “talk ’til I’m blue in the face.” He always said that when words alone couldn’t convince someone of something. Sometimes, when he had nothing to say at all or when...
We used to talk about all kinds of things, but especially about a subject which interested me above all others: myself. — From Simone de Beauvoir’s Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter Sometimes, I think I’ve written all there is to write about Generation X. I’ve written about...
From a house on a hill a sacred light shines I walk through these rooms but none of them are mine Down empty hallways I went from door to door Searching for my beautiful reward — From Springsteen and Beautiful Reward By broadest definition, Generation X begins in 1961 and ends in 1981. That...
Do not tell me what you think I need to hear Tell me what I want to hear, but Can’t believe For life is short And our dying inevitable Do not tell me about my son’s sweet kisses How they will fold into Adolescent angst Or predicate my days In the blink of an eye All tenderness will...
Today is my father’s 80th birthday. Wow. Happy Birthday, DB! You mean the world to me! –YBG *** I saw my father today. I walked into his room to find him staring out the window. He was wearing cranberry-colored sweats. My father would not have been caught dead in sweats prior to his...
Some days, I don’t want to live without you. Today is one of those days. The other day, I was sitting in front of my laptop Writing that post about Motel 6 and Roadtrips when I was a little girl. And, I remembered, I will never take another road trip with you again (Diet Dr. Pepper in a...
In the early days of my father’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, I visited him several times a week. I picked him up every Saturday morning in my Jeep and took him to breakfast at IHOP. Sometimes, Robert and I visited him during evenings for coffee. We’d wheel him down to the...
[…] with minimal disruption, echoing the parenting attitudes of previous generations, such as the latchkey kids of the 70s and 80s. This…
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Hello, Jill! It's so nice to receive a message from a majorette. No doubt, it was a grand experience for…
I was the majorette at my Catholic high school (William V. Fisher Catholic) in Central Ohio. Fall 1993-97! Loving these…
Thank you so much. This post was one of the hardest I ever wrote because the trip was difficult. I…