“You need to learn how to accept help,” my friend Jane told me back in 2011 when I was packing up the home my family was leaving after 27 years. She had barged into my house uninvited, thank God, her arms full of boxes, intent on helping me through one
It’s 10:28pm. I just got back from my first writing class. There were 16 or 17 of us taking the class. A few young ones, but most ranging from 40 to 60 years old. We went around the room introducing ourselves, one by one telling a snippet of the memoirs we
I’m nervous. Tomorrow morning I board a plane to New Orleans for probably one of the most exciting opportunities of my life. I have a sneaking suspicion it will be life-changing. The 27 of us chosen to participate in the NOLA bound project will come from Boston, Houston, Cleveland, New
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