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Dear Mom, Only your Singer knows how many times you pricked your fingers with the needle. How many times the bobbin bopped up and down, singing your praises. Since you were only fourteen, when you were forced to quit school and work in a sweat shop to help put food on the table, I wonder…

Grammar never came naturally to me. Neither has my “regularity.” I know this is a personal topic, and the colonoscopy is to be taken seriously, but I can’t help my warped sense of humor. Not being able “to go” is uncomfortable. Bloat is not a pretty word. All my husband has to do is drink…

After I graduated Stew School from Capitol International Airways on June 18, 1971, I got to fly all over the world. It was during the glamour days of flying – little white gloves, shoulder-padded blue skirt suits, coiffed hairdos, and broad smiles. At 22, I was fearless and faced turbulence and unruly passengers without blinking…