TV talk shows often feature “reunion” experiences, usually between adopted children and their bio-parents, but sometimes between children of divorce and their “lost” parent. My experience is in the latter category.
My “excursion” only lasted two days. The bus left Butler, Pennsylvania late Friday afternoon, and left New Jersey to return to Butler late Sunday. But this two-day “vacation” enriched—and overwhelmed—my life more than I expected.
My parents divorced when I was very young. Unfortunately, all I knew about my father was that (more…)
Infertility.
An experience I never expected to have, considering my husband and my family histories. I, the product of divorce, had parents who each created seven children. My husband was the youngest of ten. What was more natural than (more…)
I maneuvered through the fast flowing river, sandle-clad feet gingerly stepping from rock to rock, feet barely maintaining their hold on the silt- covering blanketing the stones. I concentrated on not falling as I sought the perfect rock I’d found on past explorations.
It’s flat surface, perfect as a seat, would jut slightly above the river surface, providing a dry surface for sitting as I delved into a quiet, calming, spiritual break in my hectic lifestyle. Its gentle slope on the downstream side acted as a footstool to rest my weary legs, allowed the rapid river flow to wash over them. Its other sides juttied into the flowing waters (more…)
The editor’s words stick in my memory.
“I don’t care (more…)
Seventy-nine years ago, Carl and Mary Pincheck said their wedding vows. I interviewed them in 1999, on their 70th anniversary. Since then, I’ve read Mary’s obituary and I’ve lost touch with Carl’s status.
At the time I met this couple, Mary was very ill, and Carl’s severe arthritis made it difficult for him to move. He had only recently hired help in order to care for Mary in his home.
Mary’s illness was long term, starting with a series of strokes that hit her beginning April 1, 1950.
“When she sat on the couch and opened the paper, I saw her (more…)
Periodically, I still hear from Tiziana, who lives in Maderno, Italy. I met her through another friend, B. J. Their long-term relationship began on a train in Europe and ended when B. J. wed Veronica. I met Tiziana through B. J. in the mid-1990s while living in Jamestown, PA.
Tiziana visited the small town at least once a year, and B. J. went to her home as well. She was a schoolteacher in Italy, and was a welcome visitor at the Jamestown Family Support Program’s summer children’s activities, as well as a regular guest at the Jamestown Elementary School, which she said “offers a different way to think about (more…)
“Do you have your Christian language yet?” Jill asked, leaning across the pew toward Alice and me.
“No,” I responded.
“Do you want it?” Her eyes gazed intently into mine.
“Not really. Not at this time.”
“You need it,” she insisted.
“There are other issues to be considered.”
“Regardless of he other issues, you cannot let anything (more…)
—written by Monte W. Holland and Carolyn C. Holland
My husband responded to a recent USA Today news article titled “That’s flashy: 100 explosions recorded on the Moon,” written by Tony Phillips, [5/21/08]
“In 1959,” my husband began, “I was required to do a research project in my senior year at Union College (Schenectady, New York) where I majored in physics. My partner was Chuck Bruce, another physics major and an electronics person who had been into ham radio.
“We signed up to work with Professor Curtis Hemenway, in Albany, New York, at Dudley Observatory—which is owned by Union College. Professor Hemenway lived over in a residence attached to the observatory, which he maintained. The observatory also had a bedroom where researchers could sleep when not actively using the observatory.
“The professor’s idea was for us to look for meteors hitting the dark side of the moon. He believed these could be seen if we looked for flashes of infrared light.”
Not so long ago, anyone claiming to see flashes of light on the Moon would be viewed with deep suspicion by professional astronomers. Such reports were filed under “L” … for lunatic. (more…)
There was a soft rap on our guestroom door. I rapped softly back, thinking it was my newly-four-year-old grandson. He had just celebrated his birthday the day before, and we were in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, for the occasion.
However, the rap on the door turned out to be my son, wanting to know if we’d been up and out to the car already that morning.
No, we hadn’t. But I’d left a car door open when packing the car the night before, and thus, the question from Nolan.
We finished packing the car, and left to return to Pennsylvania. It was just before 9:30 a.m., not bad for our plan to leave by nine o’clock. I was waiting to get my java at a food store we were going to shop at on our way when suddenly Monte let out the wildest war whoop I’d ever heard come from his mouth. I caught myself panicking: HEART ATTACK! WHILE HE’S DRIVING (more…)
The piece below was composed for a writing competition. The topic was “childhood experience.”
“Hemoglobin!”
It hit me like a giant wave crashing against the shore. The research I’d worked on all summer involved the common blood component, hemoglobin, not a mysterious substance called (more…)
