Yeah, I'm a bit superstitious, so I'm hesitant to share my good news about acupuncture. But here goes, jinxes be damned! First, my background with acupuncture. Seven plus years ago I had several rounds of acupuncture during my chemo treatment time periods. I think it helped, but since I didn't have a "normal" baseline, I … Continue reading Acupuncture: I’m afraid to jinx myself, but . . .
I think there was an unwritten rule: Do business with people of your own race.
Many of you know by now that each new year I let a word choose me -- as suggested by the Abbey of the Arts: "give me a word" we ask – something to nourish me, challenge me, a word I can wrestle with and grow into. The word which chooses us has the potential … Continue reading My Word for 2019
Many of you know that each year around January 1st I choose a word for my year. I was inspired by the Abbey of the Arts and the process suggested here. A former student who has made it a practice to choose a word for her year in January asked via Facebook message if I … Continue reading Floating to find a word for my new decade
This week my life's clock will tick into a new decade. I'll be 60. No longer can I try to claim that I'm "middle aged." I'm obviously much closer to the end than the middle. So what have I learned in these 60 years? What would I tell my younger self to help make her … Continue reading At 60: Six things I’d tell my younger self
As I continue the series of blog posts in which I explore my racism, I'm focusing on my high school years. I don't have a lot of actual high school memories that touch on race. The first has to do with riding the bus to school. My guess is that this was during ninth or … Continue reading Considering My Own Racism: My High School Years
For my first 10 or 11 years, my world was populated by white people. As I said in my last post, I went to an all-white elementary school. From first through sixth grades, my school was segregated, so I only saw other white students. And white teachers and lunchroom ladies. Perhaps the custodians were black, … Continue reading Considering My Own Racism: My Childhood