Tag Archives: fathers

Morning Birds by Naomi Shihab Nye

Sometimes I come upon a poem that perfectly reflects what I’m feeling, but I could never have expressed it so beautifully. This one is by the wise, kind, and eloquent Naomi Shihab Nye. I have met Naomi a few times, and we’ve had … Continue reading

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Listening to My Father’s Voice

My father’s voice is pressed onto a little disc recorded about 70 years ago when he was stationed at Camp Cooke. He had gone into Lompoc to book railroad tickets. “This message will announce my homecoming verbally,” he says. “I will … Continue reading

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The Heart’s Slow Learning

“There are no events but thoughts and the heart’s hard turning, the heart’s slow learning where to love and whom.”        Annie Dillard Nothing matters but who loves you and how well they perform in this. My father, … Continue reading

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Thorns and Flowers

“Your father was quite the charmer,” said the lady in my dream. Her powdered face looked at least eight decades old, her dyed reddish hair was curly and short. She was a brassy sort, but good-natured, and she managed the … Continue reading

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My Daddy’s Centennial

March 29, 2011. It would have been my father’s hundredth birthday, and that’s too big a milestone to let go without mention. There’s something breathtaking about it. It makes me realize how much he was of a different time, a … Continue reading

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  Because Sunday was Father’s Day and yesterday marked the first day of summer, and also because I have just returned home and haven’t sorted out any new thoughts yet, I am posting a piece I wrote ten years or … Continue reading

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Only One Thing Counts

“Your family is its own religion,” a therapist once told me, “complete with saints, martyrs, demons and apparitions. You seem to have a shared record of acts and pronouncements that are still being debated and interpreted, a roster of the most … Continue reading

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On October 12

It’s Monday afternoon, a gray and quiet one, except for the sound of the generator I’ve just turned on, and now it is beginning to rain, not a lot, just a passing wet whisper, darkening the deck, refreshing the chaparral, promising more. … Continue reading

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