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From the Blog

11 March

My Father’s Hand


I miss my father’s hand. My first recollection of the feel of it was strolling through the park, looking at the model sailboats on the pond, sharing italian ices, then finding Alice in Wonderland. His immense hand dwarfed mine.  His nails were short and clean, and its skin was vaguely rough, closer to smooth, but […]

29 January



Finding this photo of my gorgeous mom, taken in Italy, in the early ’60′s was an absolute delight.  I am thinking about her travels, as a newlywed, with my dad.  There was hope and joy in her heart as she looked to the future.  This is giving me such insight into Margaret Johnson’s experience as […]

23 January



Oh geez, another one for dad…this is a doozy. Way back when I was a kid, (not that way back) my dad and mom were involved with a movement called primal therapy.  Now I don’t  think I’m going to go into a detailed account of what that is, I don’t think I could accurately depict […]