When I entered the family history center that stormy April afternoon, I had one thing on my mind; I had never seen a photo of my father’s father. I was 46 and I had never seen my grandfather’s face. I typed his name into the search bar on the site, Newspapers.com, “George R. Slighte,” the results came back instantly.
This last week I lost another friend. I started pondering the people I call friends and how we all first connected.
In the Shadow of A Scorned Hero I remember growing up with stories of my father signing up for the Army the day after Marilyn Monroe died. I'm not sure what that particular fact was supposed to convey to us as children listening to his story, but it was something I never forgot. My father,... Continue Reading →
Every day is a fight. A fight for me against an urge to find a permanent solution for temporary problems. I am NOT alone in this fight. The number of people who struggle with crippling anxiety and depression that leaves you suicidal is STAGGERING. Today when I woke up with more frustrating situations around me,... Continue Reading →