Graduation 2020. Anyone who has ever been proud of their kid knows how I feel, that telltale lump in the throat and feeling that your heart might burst into a thousand pieces of joy-light that shoot out into the universe as sparkles of optimism for the future, theirs and the world’s.
Graduate studies in Studio Jazz Writing (composition), along with a paid teaching assistance-ship and a Fellowship at the Henry Mancini Institute are on the docket.
Cooking and eating are communal activities, and shared memories form very easily when food is involved.
Each year, memories fly out of these treasures like dust motes in the light and gently come to rest on me.
I remember my brother now more with joy at what was than sadness about what will never be.
A homemade meal, a bottle of wine, and a great conversation. It was a perfect little party for three – my niece, her partner and me.
Savory, flavorful and redolent with tradition, this dressing is always at the top of the family request list. Even so, it took almost 30 years to accurately document the recipe.
October 16 is a special day. RIP Oscar Wilde and Dad.
Making gumbo together is a bonding activity. You need chicken pickers, sausage slicers, vegetable choppers and a roux maker. Part 3 of the Glover Gardens Gumbo Series.
A 7th grade essay sums up how gumbo got started for us: “My family has a 35-year history with gumbo.” Part 2 of a series.
A giant pork chop with homemade spaetzle served on vintage Corelle dishes proves once again that Food is Love.
A surprise in the mail: custom, handmade sugar cookies in two styles, a cheery, bright ice cream cone, and cheeky “Feel a latte better” coffee cup.
My mother in law LOVES seafood. And for every celebratory occasion, she’s happy just to go to a seafood restaurant. Really, we ALL love seafood, so we welcomed the opportunity to have a big appetizer for Riki’s 88th revolution around the sun. It’s easy to […]
Another foot surgery, more musing, and some great meals provided by the Grill-Meister.
I have hundreds of cookbooks. Literally. It’s Mom’s Fault (thanks, Mom!) I’m a cookbook collector, or maybe even a cookbook pack rat. It might be a bit of a sickness. I’ve tried to slow it down, but for a while there, I was on a […]
I’m not on the recommended pace to write a poem each day this month to participate in National Poetry Month, but this one happened in about 30 seconds. There will never be another muse like my Dad. He was a remarkable, wonderful, loving, accepting, listening […]
A vignette in the produce section inspired a poem about dads and daughters.
Family-memory stories gain a patina with age and become the stuff of legend. The Story of Chicken is one of those stories.
My dad was born 80 years ago today in West Texas as the Great Depression was coming to an end in the shadow of another Great War in Europe, a time before regular Americans realized we’d be involved in that war. With that backdrop and […]
An elegy for three, from the one remaining. They live in my heart-theater, their voices all trumpets and whispers and hugs.
