Relationships & Family

Halie's Rainbow

jbloustein — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 09:44:50 -0600

Brazil, Indiana is a close-knit community, and so is the local high school’s marching band, the Northview Marching Knights, eight-time state champions.

Every Thursday, after practice, the staff gathers for dinner at the home of Bob and Ruth Anne Medworth, director of the band and color guard, respectively.

The Medworths live only a mile from the high school, so everyone shows up minutes after practice lets out.

Being Healed

admin — Fri, 07 Nov 2008 13:03:07 -0600

My first reaction when my friend Lisa called to tell me she'd been diagnosed with advanced breast cancer was denial. I hung up the phone and said to my husband, Allan, "I must have heard her wrong. It couldn't possibly be true."

I'd met Lisa eight years before at a luncheon. We started to chat about our favorite books, then discovered we both loved working to help children and the elderly.

"I Know What You're Going Through"

admin — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 09:21:38 -0600

Even after I moved my wife, Tammy, and our toddler son, Tiger, into a run-down farmhouse in Richfield, I think people thought the old place was still empty. That suited me just fine.

We didn't even have a phone. We really couldn't afford one, and besides, we didn't expect to be chit-chatting. We wanted to be left alone so we could get on with our lives.

The Cross at Ground Zero

admin — Sun, 01 Sep 2002 11:27:00 -0500

I'm an excavation laborer, and a member of Union Local 731. Pick-and-shovel work is my trade. I live in New Jersey, but I'm a New York City native, Brooklyn born and bred. After the Towers collapsed, my city was hurting. When I heard they needed guys like me for search-and-rescue work at Ground Zero, I couldn't get there fast enough.

My Father's Flag

admin — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 08:54:00 -0500

Maybe you've noticed: Flag Day usually comes up on the calendar right around Father's Day. My dad would like that.

When I was a 9-year-old girl in Medfield, Massachusetts, the highlight of the year was marching with my Brownie troop in the town's Memorial Day parade.

Even today, I vividly remember marching behind the high school band and the DAR ladies in their vintage bustles and gaily feathered hats. We smiled and cheered and waved tiny American flags distributed by the Kiwanis Club men.

Jennie—She Taught Me to Love Spring

mcherkezian — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 09:44:03 -0600

Jennie and I met in night school. She had lost her husband, and her daughter was no longer home. My only child, a son, was in college, and my husband had encouraged me to finish work on my degree.

After Jennie and I had completed the required courses, we started teaching in the same school. Frequently we had lunch together.

The Tomato Patch

admin — Fri, 22 Feb 2008 09:54:00 -0600

Nothing would grow on the scarred land where the backhoe had dug up the earth on the far end of my property down by the creek. More than a year had passed since I had to put in a septic tank at my mountainside home, and I kept telling myself that it would take time for the ground to heal. The oak and hickory would reseed, the tiny acorns and nuts would sprout, but spring had come and gone, and all I could see from my dining-room window was a barren swath of brown earth and rocks. Even the wildflowers I had seeded didn't come up.

The Arlington Ladies

admin — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 07:33:00 -0600

The widow flew alone from Orlando. The only fare she could afford required two stops before landing in Washington, D.C. The trip took nearly a day. She rode in a cab to Arlington National Cemetery, holding her husband's ashes in a wooden box on her lap.

Before her husband died suddenly, she had been looking forward to a long, happy retirement. Her husband had begun building a deck behind their house. They had no children, and their only surviving family lived in Peru. But they had each other. Now she had no one.

The Church Across the Street

admin — Sat, 01 May 2004 06:57:00 -0500

My parents named me Maria de la Soledad: Spanish for the Blessed Virgin Mary of Solitude. It's really no surprise, considering that faith has always been an essential part of my family's life. You might even say that's what brought my parents together. My parents were both immigrants—my mother from Cuba, my father from Australia—studying at Johns Hopkins University. And they both attended daily Mass at the church near campus. Every day my father would offer my mother a ride. Every day, she declined. Finally she said yes.

Our Friend, Van

admin — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 10:25:00 -0500

Former Editor-in-Chief Van Varner died this year at age 84. To many of us at the magazine he was a once-in-a-lifetime friend and a wise mentor (he hired me in 1986 after I told him I'd only stay a year; Van knew better). For readers, Van was a familiar voice you felt you knew personally.

He was a courtly Kentucky gentleman who became the quintessential New Yorker. Readers visiting the City would sometimes call him up and invariably he'd invite them to his apartment for lunch and give them a list of the things they must do in New York.