Reflecting. Reminiscing. Remembering. Navel-gazing. Call it what you will. I'm not sure why I'm writing this now. Oddly enough, “Always Something There To Remind Me,” by Naked Eyes, just popped up on my iTunes. Not that I'm thinking about any one past gal pal, but the title is enough.


Love Is At The Center

Bob David (BD): Bill, at age 84, you are about to retire as chaplain at Boston Medical Center. You’ve been there for 18½ years, which means you were around 65 when you came onboard. Can you give a rundown of your rich history and experience before then, which I understand was not without controversy? ...more

Hug Her

“Lift her up, Lord! Take that fluid from her body. I’m going to keep on praying to you day and night... Almighty God, make her well. Which will be a great testimony to you for all patients and doctors and nurses to see.” These were prayers of the sister of a 47-year-old black Baptist woman who was critically ill with cancer. ...more

Nursing Home Safari

I asked one of the last harbingers of doom to list the risks one-by-one. He started with me winding up with a permanent tube coming out of my throat and ended with a heart attack... He left my room smacking his chewing gum and I doubt if he will be returning... Another two weeks have passed. I saw him in the hall, still chewing gum. I wanted to ask him if he has ever evaluated the risk of chewing gum—what it could do to his teeth, his gums, the bottom of desks nearby…


I knew we would meet exactly three minutes before we in fact did. I got a call on a special phone at work late last night telling me you were an estimated age of 3 and you had been shot in your chest and were not breathing. That was all I knew, but that was enough to get my attention—all of it. The truth is I had been preparing to meet you for many years, readying myself in every way I could to take the very best possible care of you in the seconds that mattered most if we should ever meet under these circumstances—even though I never EVER wished we would. ...more

Hot Cut And Color

No one has asked me out in nine months. I met the last guy on Amtrak on my way home to Philadelphia after getting a haircut and splash of color in New York. The man was attractive and smart, but married. I turned him down flat. I didn’t look back when we parted at the 30th Street Station. No one has approached me since. And at the age of 64 and a widow, I am not looking. ...more