I no longer fear death itself, but I could do without dying.
As readers of this column may know by now, I am a word person.
We got her from a friend of Ann’s, as one of the two remaining pups from a litter of nine.
On March 8, I met a reader and sometime critic of this column for lunch.
As readers of this column may know by now, I am a terminal cancer patient.
For most of my life, that’s how I felt about myself.
It stuns me how often we are guilty of doing the very thing we complain about and despise in others when they do it, but excuse it in ourselves.
The authors of “Un novo guia conversação em portuguez e inglez” (“A new guide for conversation in Portugese and English”) meant it to be a serious work.
Years ago, the late journalist Harry Reasoner said this on a CBS historical documentary: “The past is like a foreign…
When I was a kid, a dude two or three years older and bigger than I was might as well…
I have many treasured memories from my four years at the University of Washington, and to this day, they bring…
I have been thinking a lot about an alarming trend in this nation that appears to elevate ignorance.
Watching the 8mm Whale family films my dad shot when we were kids on the old Kodak takes me back…
Why, oh why, do parents do this to the children they profess to love?
I watched a documentary 15 years ago in which a reporter asked a group of kids what they wanted to…
Before I even set out from my chemotherapy and radiation treatment in Puyallup on Monday to the office in Sumner,…
It all came to my attention one morning that formerly bewhiskered areas of my face were now bare.
I am a fool for a great read.
It has been one of the chief frustrations of my daily battle with the awful side effects of chemotherapy.
Now I’m starting to do all the healthful things I should have been doing all along. It won’t happen in a day, but I am on the road.
We’re beating each other over the heads with “alternate facts.” It’s the tolling of our death knell as a nation.
I once heard an anecdote about a writer who’d spent a week in his apartment working on his novel, without…
Call it the sweetness of life.
