with Pamela Lamp
According to Frank Billingsley, “It’s coming, it is going to be a big one, and it is not going to miss us. This one is ours.” With Hurricane Ike charging toward the Texas Gulf Coast, his Houston audience filled bathtubs with water and piled blankets, radios, water, and dog beds into interior closets of their…
As we chatted with the baker at an upscale Italian bakery in a trendy section of Brooklyn, my son and I explained what we wanted. The gentleman, who had been baking panettone and cannoli and biscotti in this neighborhood long before it turned hip and cool, looked at us with a slight amount of distaste—…
Jim Laurent relaxes with a book in the straw-filled “home” he and his wife share in the cavernous exhibit hall. Their area is tidy and swept, and a crockpot of chili simmers on a cloth-covered portable table. The background noise is a constant and comfortable lull—the bellow of goats, pigs, and cows. One of the…
For those who don’t know the quiet thrill of sliding down a mountain—carving out turns and leaving tracks in the snow, relishing the scenery and the solitude—it is exhilarating. And always a little bit out of my comfort zone. When I try to imagine doing this with one leg, no sight, or without the ability to use…
Our two sons were finishing college when my husband of 30 years accepted a new job. All was good, except for one tiny detail. This position was located 780 miles from our home. All our stuff – literally and figuratively – was in Houston. A home filled with the accouterments of raising our boys. …