When oppressed people find humorous ways to express their desire for freedom, I rejoice.  Before elections in Hungary this year, in a public park, some people set up a metal barrel with a picture of their corrupt president, Viktor Orban. For a small fee, bystanders were given a baseball bat to strike at the image. […]

I used to hate waiting in traffic, muttering and moaning to myself. Now, I’ve come to love stop lights. How did this miracle occur? A few years ago, I wanted to find a more positive mindset on our frustratingly slow streets. Radio music or news often added to my stress. Around this time, I discovered

A few of my clothes contain precious personal stories. Seemingly ordinary, some old shirts and dresses – those not imbued with the special importance of celebration, ceremony or sports – can still raise mirth or nostalgia after many years. In elementary school, my underpants provided me with confidence, for each pair featured a day of

I enjoy most invitations – to lunches, parties, weddings. However, sometimes folks ask me to unusual gatherings, such as drumming circles (decline), meditation groups (yes), remove invasive fish species from streams (sorry, I avoid slime), hike 50 miles around a mountain (an ecstatic accept). The other day I received the strangest invitation of all: to

Trying to get along with people and follow social dictates – or not – has given me some funny memories. It’s hard to forget meeting Clive, my posh sister-in-law Elaine’s new boyfriend. She prepared us ahead of time by saying he was very spiritual, a trait she apparently admired. When he arrived in our home,

“We’re all nurse logs for each other” is a phrase I saw on a t-shirt recently in Seattle, Washington. Locals understood what this meant. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest in a family of campers and hikers. Nurse logs were common in these forests: fallen trees that, over time, welcomed seedlings that sprouted in,

I’m not always clever enough to comprehend hidden agendas. But a recent incident whacked me over the head. My adult son lived in a different city, and I loved visiting him.  He often took me out with his friends for coffee, drinks, or a party. I enjoyed hanging out with his social group; this didn’t

Jane and Joe, who lived in Los Angeles, loved to throw a big Halloween party every year. Although I’d moved away, I found myself back in the City of Angels on Halloween and they insisted I come. Then I remembered Lowell, a college buddy of Joe’s. “Oh dear, I really don’t want to see Lowell.

I never imagined my cousin, Lucy, would become a ghost. To my mind, ghosts were troubled souls, but Lucy cast a lively yet gentle light with her ukulele always at hand, ready to strike up a song. In my precarious childhood, Lucy and her husband, Kenji, were my legal guardians, my safety net. They gave

As I entered the radiation room at Queens Hospital for the first time, I shivered. More than a dozen people waited for their cancer tumors to get zapped. Reluctantly, I joined their ranks. I felt shy and scared. Once I sat down and I glanced around, it amazed me to see the wide variety of