When a face peered in from outside my 28th floor condo window, my stomach leaped up to my throat. To my horror, the head, unattached, floated up, beyond my sight. I had entered a Stephen King world. After a moment, I realized that the “head” might have been a crinkled piece of brown paper, about […]

According to my mother, I grew up in a haunted house. She located the ghost, specifically, in the attic. One hundred years old, our home looked like a roomy old farmhouse and stood in a semi-rural suburb of Seattle. The upstairs area had two bedrooms, one bath and a cozy den, unfinished with bare beams.

It’s always intriguing to notice when people exist together in the same moment, but have polar opposite experiences. This reminds me of the man who hated taillights.  When I attended a meditation retreat on the Big Island of Hawaii, we took a field trip to the erupting volcano, Kilauea. Carpooling meant I found myself in

At times I break my own heart. In Seattle last summer, I visited Clara. We’ve been friends since second grade. She’s had a hard life and now suffers from a chronic disease that requires two or more surgeries a year. I feel so sad for her, but her spirit is strong, and I treasure our

One day, my adult son and I ascended a Swiss mountain on a gently swaying gondola that held about fifteen people. I noticed an unusual group on board, a young man, perhaps in his mid-to-late twenties, accompanied by three women, one of whom held the hand of a very well-behaved child, around kindergarten age. From

When I was twelve years old, my mother began warning me about something she called the White Slave Trade. “Don’t get caught by the White Slave Trade,” she repeated many times. She never defined it or mentioned any sexual aspect to it.  Her cautionary tone of voice sounded serious, but she always laughed at the

On a cruise from Singapore to Hong Kong, I became aware of some people’s obsession with gender roles. Among the Americans I met on the ship, I quickly made friends with a pair of travelers from Nevada: a young woman, Jo Ann, and her mother, Anni, a Buddhist nun. They were quiet, yet amiable, and

For Christmas and birthdays, I, like many people, received cards from loved ones. After retirement, I noticed several relatives wrote a page or two, documenting incidents from their life. It seemed to me that, in their eighties and nineties, some folks became thoughtful and wanted others to know what their significant experiences had been. This

At times, peoples’ voices seem to reflect attitudes that reverberate from past generations. I’ve often heard parents bragging about themselves, their kids or grandkids, my parents included. I strived to get good grades and performed in dance recitals because I occasionally overheard Mom extol my achievements to her friends or family in her long telephone

It appears to me that many people, including myself, relate to others using unspoken agreements. By happenstance, my friend ends up caring for her husband who suffers from severe alcoholism. For thirty years, she continues to try to host nice social gatherings while attempting to stop his drinking. It never works. She’s mortified by his