Mama a Rainbow

Mama a Rainbow

Please allow me to share an excerpt from my followup book, Songs from an Imperfect Life, which I plan to release in this coming spring. “Along with the part-time music director’s job at Carroll Street Chapel, I found a part-time retail position at Strobel’s Music Shop...

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Plans

Plans

Frustrated Architect is how I have often described myself, and yet, I am neither. But I do have a love for design and architecture that goes back as far as I can remember. I think that it really began to blossom during my pre-teen years when my parents were seriously...

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Ho-Jo and Fried Clams

Ho-Jo and Fried Clams

Merriam-Webster defines guilty pleasure as: something pleasurable that induces a usually minor feeling of guilt. With too many guilty pleasures for one blog article, I’m going to choose one that unfortunately is no longer an option for me – Howard Johnson’s. Yes, the...

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Letter to Bob

Letter to Bob

A letter has been floating around for years in a box of items from my family home. It is without an envelope and as been folded over twice with “Bob” written on the fold in my mother’s handwriting. I remember opening it but never reading past the greeting of “Dearest...

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I’m just a Broadway Baby

I’m just a Broadway Baby

I’m just a Broadway Baby  Sondheim ’71 What’s in a name? My mother was a Broadway – a name that has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. My grandmother, Mary Walker, hitchhiked from Nashville, Michigan to Miami, Florida in 1920, fell in love and...

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My journey so far

My journey so far

January 2016 I was alone when I watched the movie Spotlight, and although I have read books, watched TV shows and movies that have dealt with the subject of sexual abuse – none, until then, had brought me to the point of hysterical sobbing by the time the credits...

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Wake up and smell the routine

Wake up and smell the routine

Christmas morning as a child – I’d be the first one up filled with excitement and anticipation. My parents, who I now realize had filled the role of Santa’s helpers by assembling and wrapping my gifts, probably had been in bed for just a couple of hours. Once they...

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Daddy Still Gone

Daddy Still Gone

My grandfather York was a man of few words. So much so, that just trying to carry on a conversation with him could often be difficult. I still laugh at my mother’s words, in a letter to my dad dated December 2, 1955. She wrote: “Well honey, your Daddy arrived this...

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Assumptions and Judgements

Assumptions and Judgements

The saying, If you don’t have anything nice to say, come sit next to me, has many versions and attributed to numerous people, but the sentiment still rings true. Somewhere along the way, we have become a world of outspoken opinions, often feeling anonymous as we add...

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Memories

Memories

When my mother passed away, at the age of 58, my dad was lost. She was the love of his life – his rock. I never doubted their bond, or their connection, but after discovering what they went through in 1955-56, as chronicled in my memoir, Kept in the Dark, I finally...

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Puddin’

Puddin’

My parents had two puppies, when we lived in Miami, with the unoriginal names of Li’l Girl and Li’l Boy. Li’l Girl made the move with us to Tennessee and was the dog that jumped out of the car when my mother, Joyce, was pulled over for speeding, as she crossed the...

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