By Beth Ann Jedziniak When Nathan was a little boy and having trouble sleeping, his mother would lie down with him, read an extra story, sing an extra song and then, when he was all snuggled and warm and sleepy, she would gently move his little arm and quietly slip away. His mother had thought …
by Beth Ann Jedziniak I received a catalog in the mail last week. As I thumbed through, I found a section with furry sweaters that I would never wear but yet I almost ordered one. In the 1980s, my mom had the ugliest fake fur coat. It was off-white-ish with yellow and brown clumps of …
by Beth Ann Jedziniak Yesterday morning on the elevator, a woman said, “I love your cane. Where did you get it?” While my cane is made of wood and looks hand-carved, I purchased it off the shelf at Walgreens. She seemed disappointed with my answer so I added, “But perhaps I should come up with …
