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Houston, TX Signs of Life for Mom
A few years ago my mother had a very serious stroke that left her unable to remember or understand her husband and her kids. It was very hard on all of us,...
Read Memory Oceanside, CA Cruzin
One of my first memory's with music come with this song. I was riding with my dad in the dead of winter in a beat up old baby blue volkswagon rabbit. My dad...
Read Memory Richmond, VA Tunes Of My Childhood
My dad loves Jimmy Buffett as much now as he did in 1991. Every day whenmy brother and Iwere growing up, we heard Jimmy Buffett. It was the music we were...
Read Memory Washington DC Banking
The further north I came on the AutoTrain from central Florida to DC, the farther I was from being where the weather no longer suited my clothes. After five...
Read Memory Washington DC Second Dance
There's the first dance as a married couple, and then there's the second. There usually aren't as many pictures. Already, by then, nobody's counting.But...
Read Memory Washington DC Coming Down From Cincinnati
That's my life there in the trunk and backseat of the Corolla--the clothes, the laptop, the lifesize standup of Harrison Ford. My sister is driving. One...
Read Memory Washington DC Everybody Has One
I needed a Song of Life. You need one too. Maybe you already have one. It's not the type of thing you go out and pick. It arrives to you, unbidden, total in...
Read Memory Washington DC Recaptured
Of all the rooms on Two North, Barbara's was the neatest, the rarest sitting still. She was the most organized, the highest-achieving, the one who never...
Read Memory Washington DC Barnacle Brain Don't Bend
When I agreed to married my husband, I gained a ring and lost a reservation to the Grand Canyon. I'd planned to mark my thirtieth birthday by climbing into...
Read Memory Washington DC The Commute
The song was old but the commute was new. Any commute was new. I was Corporate Woman now, with short hair and an even shorter fuse.My little apartment...
Read Memory Boulder, CO Exploration (past. present. future)
When I was five and a half years old, I was pulled out of kindergarten, and piled into a van with my family – we spent the next six months traveling...
Read Memory Estero, FL Perspective
A Pirate Looks at Forty always brings to my mind the image of a dimly lit Ford truck cabin and even more dimly lit orange groves. I used to hop in a truck...
Read Memory Washington DC The Lawn
When you are fourteen, and you have been raised in a white Catholic ghetto, there's not a lot of pot around. Or alcohol. Or parties. Or boys. Okay, these...
Read Memory Ponte Vedra Beach, FL A parrot head's tale
By no means, do I consider myself a hard-core parrot head. However, if there was one show where I earned my stripes and beak, it was the Summer '94 show at...
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READ TODAY'S MAGAZINENOVEMBER 19
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