So that’s what I’m using. That’s what Lisa would have done, if she was still alive. My sister would have turned 53 today, but for her opioid addiction. Lisa didn’t, as a good friend of hers in Tennessee reminded me recently, take flack from anyone. She stood up for herself, Read more…
Yesterday was a first: someone tried to steal my car. Thankfully, they only stole my car keys. I was at the pool and alone in the locker room, blow drying my hair, when a woman walked out of a bathroom stall and began drying her hands. A few minutes earlier, Read more…
I’m nearing the end of my long, literary journey, having driven more than 2,500 miles to date, from West Virginia to Arizona, and complete strangers have turned into new friends, as I stop and smell the roses – both literally and figuratively. The roses, you see, are the people I Read more…
I’ve been struggling with this column for days. I even went into semi-seclusion for a week without realizing why—until yesterday—when an old friend offered his condolences. My sister Lisa died two years ago today. The call came that morning, while I was working on The Savage Murder of Skylar Neese. Read more…
If you don’t know anyone who’s been addicted to narcotic painkillers, you’re fortunate. Sadly, most of us do, or did, in the case of an addict whose addiction ended in death. It’s not a pretty topic—but it certainly is a crucial one. Last fall I joined a local writer’s group Read more…
Robin Williams is dead. He left behind a world of grief, even though 99.9-percent of us never met him. We knew him, though, as much as we can possibly “know” anyone through a lifetime of work. All of this grieving is about losing Mork, Mrs. Doubtfire, Patch Adams, and My Read more…
My sister Lisa died of a broken heart. She never got over losing our father—or feeling like she couldn’t measure up. I’m afraid we—her family—didn’t make it any easier for her. Many of us judged her, when we had no right. Especially when we didn’t even try to help her. Read more…