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Most accidents happen at home. Now, I can put a personal check mark next to that adage. On a cold, snowy day in December, I slipped on ice on my driveway. I learned, later, I had two broken bones in my dominant right hand and arm. I’d never broken anything, but now, in a crisis, I had to work through intense pain to make decisions that could make or break my recovery to regain full use of my hand.   After undergoing surgery, starting therapy, enduring physical and psychic pain--with more to come plus another surgery, I found a silver lining...

Barbara saw this comment on Facebook: “‘Happy Mother’s Day,’ a fellow on my bus yelled today.” This innocent comment said in good faith triggered a deluge of mixed responses in this semi-public forum. One person wrote: “The guy on the bus is oblivious to the fact that it could be painful to those who lost mothers, wanted to be mothers but couldn't, have estrangements from parent or progeny etc. Be aware, people. This holiday is not happy for everyone.”  Once the FB faucet is turned on, the responses start to gush. Another person wrote, "Wow, I think you're 100% wrong....

“Joe”  A tall slim boyish-looking 20-something-year-old wearing a Cubs baseball cap and thin navy blue jacket faced us across the aisle. He was slumped down in his chair while listening intently to my conversation with "Andy," the 30-year-old who had just been released from prison and wanted to go to California. He couldn't leave the state and was forced to wear a monitor.  Joe and I made eye contact.  “Are you going to Chicago?” I asked him.  “Yes.”  “What do you do there?”  “I’m a third year law student at Northwestern.”  Andy’s ears perked up. “Can you represent me?” he...

You never know when a face-to-face conversation with strangers may expand your world. Ordinary moments cause people to enjoy a serendipitous encounter and spill their guts to each other. The reason: They know they’ll most likely never see each other again.  It happened on a recent morning at 6:45 a.m. in a bus/train terminal in the city of St. Louis. I had decided to take the Amtrak line from St. Louis to Chicago for a book signing. Barbara was flying to Chicago from New York City to meet me there.   I entered the bus/train depot where dozens of people were...

In honor of Mother’s Day, we are running these two updated blogs again. Just Five Questions I Wish I Could Ask My Mom This Mother’s Day by Margaret Crane I thought I knew her well. Yet, now that my mother is gone (she passed away 1 ½ years ago), I am surprised to discover how much I really never knew about her. I guess I took her for granted. It’s a bit like the 100-year-old house we lived in when I was a teenager. The sounds and substance became familiar...the squeak of the stairs, the clinking of the radiators turning...