You set me to sail, beyond the banks of the usual challenges, daily demands, and paltry appreciations. I prefer terra firma but lately I’ve been dreaming of sailing—gliding effortlessly out from the safety of my ordinary harbor. Trouble is, I don’t know if my provisions match the demands of a rigorous sea. Calm waters could swiftly turn ugly and I’m not an experienced mariner. I don’t even know the fore from the aft, nor how to navigate with only the sun and stars. Instead, I will steer toward you as my only point of reference. ...more
Xiao Bien and Da Bien
Pet ownership comes with responsibility. There is one obligation that my wife, daughter, and relatives all shun. They run the other way. That duty is to pick up and clean up after Toby meets his sanitary requirements: pees and poops, performs #1 and #2, does xiao bien and da bien (Chinese)—i.e., does his business. ...more
Some of the most difficult yet profound experiences of my 65 years transpired during the course of five journeys I made to Africa. Four of them took me to Burkina Faso, where I spent many weeks among the Dagara people in the remote tribal village of Dano, near the border with Ghana. Because of its remoteness, the essential elements of the indigenous world had survived in this area despite some 500 years of European colonization. I went there with a teacher, Malidoma Somé, to immerse myself in the rudiments of that world. ...more
The atmosphere at CAB Health & Recovery Services and other holding facilities for people facing alcoholism and addiction that I have been in is full of fear. A “waiting for death” syndrome engulfs the people there. Call them patients, residents, inmates, or detainees, take your pick. There is one that reflects the perspective of your choosing. The experience is the same regardless of the label. I saw fear and dependence often during the six months I was in CAB in 1997 and 1998. ...more
Take a peek into my life—the life of a woman who fell apart, got back up, fell down, got back up again, got knocked down, and remains getting up, never losing her hope, faith, and determination.
I am a 46-year-old African American woman. I was raised in a single-parent household and never met my father. I can’t recall the exact age, but I do know that I was under ten when my adult male cousin molested me. ...more
With the shift changing, the nurse was identifying us to her relief: "She is the social worker…the mother…the doctor from the Jimmy Fund…” Turning towards me, she said, “I'm sorry, I don't know who you are. Are you the father?"
"No, I'm just a friend."
“Just a friend”—what pitiful words. The girl lay dying in the intensive care unit of Children’s Hospital, surrounded by an awesome display of life-saving equipment. ...more
At 12 years old I was in a constant struggle with discipline and how things were supposed to be. I didn’t feel good inside. Everyone said I was bright, but there were always problems in school. Poor grades, taking forever to learn, bad attitude, and mouthing off to teachers and coaches. I couldn’t care less. I would lie and cheat if I could get away with it. ...more
As I faced the impending death of my beloved father, Alex Schoenbrun, I wondered how many more times I would feel satisfied saying and hearing “I love you” so that it would last me the rest of my life. ...more
