The popular film My Big Fat Greek Wedding suggests that ethnic families will flood pell mell into any space provided by a family member who announces she or he is getting married. In the case…
I am part of the usual Gospel Doctrine “crowd,” and although I’m not one of those folks who can sleep upright in a metal chair, I have refrained from being an active participant in the…
Mrs. Robinson sang in the choir.
In the church, my face, my husband’s,
and one other white couple on the stage.
As I eased myself behind the wheel of my car in early spring 1994,1 was exhausted. I had been on campus all day teaching and consulting with students and had just finished teaching a three-hour…
My husband’s parents, Grandma and Grandpa Hanks, live in Utah and come to visit our family in Michigan every summer. We all look forward to their visits, especially our children. Grandpa is pleasant and takes…
I live in a Motherless house,
A broken home.
How it happened I cannot learn.
In “Moving Zion Southward, Part II,” I noted that from 1985-2000, average LDS church cash donations to humanitarian aid were $20 million annually.[1] An “alert reader,” as Dave Barry would say, has pointed out that…
I have been a conscious Christian all my life, although defining what “Christian” means is problematic. You could say I was “born again,” but that comes on like too much evangelical bad breath. Let’s just…
The usual iconography failed me.
My mother thumb-tacked
a cardboard print above my crib;
my age of reason came early.
Last weekend, I traveled to California to attend the graduation of my youngest child and only daughter, Megan, from UC Berkeley. She graduated with honors in sociology, a true personal triumph for her. Also graduating…