Urinary incontinence. It affects almost half of all women at some time in our lives. But most of us are too embarrassed to talk about it. What other such widespread medical condition would we have the gall to remain silent about? And how long are we willing to compromise our…
My parents in 1943. This week would have been my parents’ 75th wedding anniversary. Just one day after their marriage ceremony in Newton, Kansas, they left for Paraguay, South America, to be medical missionaries. They founded and ran a leprosy compound, treated the poorest of the…
August 5 Ed and I arrived on time at 7:20 a.m. at the Barajas airport in Madrid. We made our way to the Iberia Terminal 4, where Louis was due to arrive from Sevilla at 10:05. Near the gate where he was going to come out, we sat down for…
Each of my four grown children expresses love for me in very different ways. One hugs me hard without many words. Another asks at every opportunity about a health concern I’ve had. A third shares only very limited aspects of his life, while professing his love for me. And the…
“Bad Nani.” Ely, my 3-year-old grandson, flung his pudgy little fingers across the back of my leg. Before I could grab his hand, he ran across the room and threw himself into his mother’s arms. Ely had spit his food onto the floor and thrown his plate across the room….
I recently posted a story about the shame I experienced due to estrangement in my family; a family I used to think was as close to perfect as it could be. Such feelings are pervasive enough in our society that family estrangement has been called the “silent epidemic.” It seems…
Some time ago, I posted a blog describing a breakup in my family, some of the reasons it may have occurred, and my role in creating the suffering. In response to the post, I received a flood of personal emails and phone calls from close friends and family who had…
My Father and I Sitting Next to One Another Left Front “Anna, you know that I’m writing my memoir. Can you help me fill in some missing pieces? I remember Dad beating me until I was bloody. But do you remember what I did to…?” My…
I’m walking along Avenue Kléber in Paris with Louis, my 11-year-old grandson. We turn left onto Rue Boissière on our way to Place Victor Hugo. As Louis jumps over each of the metal posts along the sidewalk, I gaze around me at the city of my dreams. Remembering the time…
As I said in a blog earlier this week, Ed and I have been touring Europe with Louis, our 11-year-old grandson, visiting five countries in seven days. When we entered the Notre Dame this afternoon, I sucked in my breath, as memories of my time studying in Paris back in…