I was raised in an idyllic bubble. I grew up in a wealthy, white suburb of Chicago. We weren't wealthy, but my parents managed to send all five of us kids to Catholic school. I thought everyone in my town was white, Irish and Catholic. I didn't realize how small my bubble was until I went... Continue Reading →
Every day since I moved here, I have had reason to say "I love this place." The phrase is usually accompanied by a stunned shake of the head, or preceded by a gasp of joy, or, most often, murmured while I'm taking a picture of yet another gorgeous blossom that happens to be growing on... Continue Reading →
My son and daughter are first-generation Asian American. Their father, my ex-husband, was a Fulbright scholar from the Philippines. My son inherited from his father his dark eyes, darker-hued skin, and the broad Pinoy nose. My daughter got her father's eyes, the shape of the face, and the same kind of nose. ... Continue Reading →
She answered the door with a skeptical look, shushing the dog. I was sure I'd annoyed her, sure I'd picked the wrong day to approach a reclusive stranger. When I told her her farm's website had indicated that Fridays were the best days to drop by, she dropped her guard a little. I said I'd... Continue Reading →
As of Friday, May 30, our oldest offspring has come out to Portland to live. For the time being (emphasis his), he will be staying with us until he gets his feet on the ground. He comes our way after living on his own for six years in Lansing, Michigan, where he attended Michigan State... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 