The day I got lucky, 13 years ago

13 years, 3 months and 24 days ago my very first paid writing gig appeared on page 35 of section A in The Dallas Morning News. I felt lucky then and still do because I had no idea what I was doing when I faxed my essay to an editor’s number I found in the...

Stranger at the pay phone

“They’ve stopped the bleeding,” my husband said from an emergency room 600 miles away. “He’ll be fine. Just get here when you can.” Our five-year-old son had been hit in the head while taking golf lessons in our Dallas backyard from an unprofessional instructor – his...

Why my Bombeck badge matters

It is an honor to pin this beautiful blue badge on my blog. It arrived attached to an email announcing that one of my essays now lives on the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop website. To celebrate, I took the subject of that essay to dinner. My youngest daughter...

The crying, the gift and the wardrobe

When Emmali was six, Santa brought her the perfect gift. Talk about regrets. As his helper, I had gotten a great deal on an antique wardrobe and then filled it with secondhand dance costumes. It fulfilled her dreams to be a princess or a ballerina or a beauty...

The goodness of a teeny tiny beating heart

Deep in the heart of Texas a teeny tiny heart beats. High in the Rocky Mountains, my own heart leaps when my phone beeps and Sara texts: “The doctor says its heart is really strong! So the baby is good!” It’s been a month since my son and Sara delivered the news via...

Coming full circle in the Square

I felt guilty because I was guilty. I switched my eight-month-old son to formula not because he was ready but because I was ready to embark upon a trip halfway around the world without him. It seemed like a good decision at the time. But when the day came to kiss his...