I love Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I love every speech he made, and I revisit them often. I love his movement of radical love and his quest for us all to build The Beloved Community. Like many white, suburban, middle-class, Americans, I learned about Dr. King in high school…

“You played bingo today?”, I shout into the phone. “How’d you do?” “I won,” says the breathy, frail voice on the other end. “What did you win?”, I shout. “Oh, snacks,” she rasped. “I have more snacks than I know what to do with,” she complains. I roll my eyes…

I have been on a mission and personal quest to get my sh*t together for quite a few years now. I joke, but I have spent years doing a lot of introspection in order to shorten the distance between who I have been versus who I want to be, with…

I am going to be fifty years old soon. In less than three months, to be exact. I am equally indifferent, flabbergasted, and excited by this chronological reality. The part of me that completely freaked out when I turned 30 (and 31, 32, 33, 34, and 35), is now silent…

I am back to work after the long Memorial Day weekend. I’m exhausted, but (mostly) in a great way. I got to see some of my oldest and dearest friends over the weekend, some of whom I haven’t seen since the start of the pandemic. It was time well spent…

I am back to work after the long Memorial Day weekend. I’m exhausted, but (mostly) in a great way. I got to see some of my oldest and dearest friends over the weekend, some of whom I haven’t seen since the start of the pandemic. It was time well spent…

Trigger warning: I speak frankly and in depth about death and more specifically, the death of my father. The penultimate episode of the tv show This Is Us aired this past Tuesday. For those who have not watched it yet, there are some spoilers ahead, so put this aside until…

I’m never going to be the one who can give you a “hot take”. I’m not capable of processing information or my feelings about it quickly enough. My feelings change with new information and time. It is how I am wired. I used to get tied up in knots over…

In May 2016, I shared a post on Facebook about Mother’s Day. It was everything I had ever wanted to say, but never had. It was an open letter to folks who dreaded Mother’s Day as much as I did. I think about that post often, and I had planned…