Dear Holiday Dysfunction, We are breaking up with you. We are writing new family stories this holiday season. We are not looking back at you with a single pang of guilt. Don’t believe us? We’ve got the classic breakup lines ready to go. “It’s not you, it’s me.” “I need space.” “I found someone else.”
Breaking a sweat and trying frantically to remove a shoe while rummaging through her carry-on bag, the woman flashed angry eyes and barked at her wheelchair-bound husband. She waved Mr. Impatient Business Traveler ahead, wiping sweat from her brow and maybe wiping a tear too. It was only 5:45 a.m. – early to already be
When you turn 40 everyone gives you grim reaper greeting cards and tells you it’s all downhill. What they don’t tell you is downhill has an upside. It’s easier to swing a wrecking ball on the way down. Walking on eggshells in “relationships”? Wrecking ball. Limping along with the same tired parenting patterns? Wrecking ball.
“Start walking.” Those two words burn a hole on page 154 of “The Polygamist’s Daughter,” a chilling child’s eye account of life in a cult led by a 1970s self-proclaimed prophet dubbed the “Mormon Manson.” “The Polygamist’s Daughter” will take you on a 300-page journey from all that’s awful about this world to all that’s
I cannot get enough of Olympic skater Mirai Nagasu. Her technical aptitude. Her post-performance fist pumping. Her dazzling smile. Her going all-in on the triple axel. In case you’ve been in Siberia or binge-watching This Is Us since Sunday, Nagasu landed a triple axel in PyeongChang over the weekend, helping Team USA win bronze in
Today, my friend Marcia Livingston Kuyper offers an extraordinary glimpse into an event that forever altered her family – and almost forever altered our country. Don’t miss her maiden name. It’s the name of an American hero. The time stamp is Sept. 18, 1980. The scene is Titan II Missile Complex 374-7 in rural Arkansas.
Growing up, I hated every girl who could skip. I sat inside at recess, watching all the skippers. No matter how hard I tried or cried, I just. could … n’t. get the steps and … rhy-thm … right. I felt so uncoordinated. So clumsy. My older sister tried to teach me, but my two
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