I was raised to work hard – physically in caring for what I own – and mentally, in the work I do every day. When others ruin or take away what you love – it is stealing in Seattle.
Most of us hit a career bump with an insufferably bad boss. Perhaps once in a lifetime you’re privileged to work with a boss who encourages, mentors, and literally changes your life. For me, that is TV journalism’s legendary Phil Sturholm. Today – in laughter and tears – we honored his wonderfully rich life with countless stories over food-truck funeral food of cheeseburgers and fries.
I’ve been saved.
I’ve been saved from a genetic DNA mismatch, the tumor suppressor MSH2 malfunction that wreaks havoc on health, on life, on longevity. It’s not just one cancer to deal with; it’s dozens.
Looking back, after an earthquake upheaval leaves nothing in my life at right angles. Yet, I am thankful.
Tonight… lighting Christmas Eve candles and singing “Silent Night” one day early, in these parts…
These loved ones, our dead. Does healing ever begin? Is that deep hole always there? They say time heals, but I’m not so sure. In these strange moments, in everyday moments, he pops up. ‘Hello there.’
Dog bones and Thanksgiving–what’s the connection? It’s the meatiness of solid relationships – not wispy, virtual ones – that are most satisfying…
Growing up in Montana, Good Friday was an often snowy, three-hour noontime service, “Seven Last Words From the Cross.” We got the day off from elementary school for such religious things back then. (Yes, I lived in ancient times.) Impressionable, I’d shed a tear as our Lutheran pastor whispered those first words from the cross: “Father, forgive them…” …
My dad died suddenly a few weeks after all this happened. It turned out to be my last story for him, my last gift to him…. a lasting gift.