immediate family
Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.
My Grandson Logan
We are going to my grandson's bull riding today about three hours from home. I never expected Logan to be a bull rider, and he has been riding bulls since probably the middle of summer. I am not sure which ride this will be today. I am nervous to go and watch him, but I told him I would go before the season is over.
By Denise E Lindquist5 days ago in Families
Maria Asuncion Aramburuzabala and Susan Wojcicki: Careers, Wealth, and Legacy
Introduction Women have played a major role in shaping modern business. Some have built successful investment firms. Others have helped create the world's largest technology platforms.
By Mohammad Akhtar7 days ago in Families
Falling for October
Autumn always courted me pretty hard each year. He wooed me with luscious aromas, warm drinks, and roaring fires. He enticed me with beautiful art in the colorful display of foliage turning into a brilliant spectrum of fiery flames. Autumn would soothe me with his sweet sounds: peace and stillness—yes, they have a sound. The sound of utter silence is a potion better than any concoction a distillery can make.
By Alexandra Grant17 days ago in Families
Legging it
Growing up in my family was unusual; hindsight has made that clear. But for my siblings and me, living in an old house with a triple amputee dad was completely normal. Dad was an impressive man in many ways. At just 18 years old, he lost his left arm and both lower legs in an horrific accident. He was intelligent, a creative thinker, but he could be a brute and often seemed to have trouble navigating social queues. Hindsight makes me think it was likely he was on the autism spectrum which worked in his favour to rise above his disability (or handicap, the term he preferred).
By Anne van Alkemade17 days ago in Families
Secret ingredient
Growing up in a single mom household during the whisper of time between Generation X and the dawn of Millennials was wild. During the school year I’d be sent to the after-school program and someone would drop me off at home around 5pm. It would still be a while before my mom got home from work. I was a latchkey kid at 9 years old. It wasn’t unusual to be left home alone in those days. There was a certain expectation that kids would be fine without supervision for a little while. The rules were simple: Don’t answer the door and don’t burn the house down.
By Wendy Sanders18 days ago in Families
When Someone’s Past Becomes Your Present. Content Warning.
Maybe this will burn bridges. Maybe people will be angry with me. Maybe I'll be blamed for interfering, for speaking up, for refusing to accept that this is simply what families do to each other. At this point, I don't care. I've spent too much of my life trying to keep everybody else comfortable while someone I love becomes less healthy, less happy, and less able to stand up for herself. If protecting my mother means somebody decides they don't want me in their life anymore, then that is a bridge I'm willing to lose.
By Brooke Kallam22 days ago in Families
