Opened my email this morning and found several suggestions for remembering Mother’s Day–flowers (of course), a BOSE Radio, AirRibs, Godiva chocolates, a Mother’s Wisdom deck of cards (not sure what that is exactly), an Audiobook, and some kind of solar powered dancing flower knickknack. Not going there. With the recession, supporting the consumer economy is not a bad idea. However, I don’t think we talk enough about the...

The old adage says “a picture is worth a thousand words.” Not always true, but there are photos that seem to be a story. We look, smile, and wish we knew more about what’s going on. This family at a museum in Toronto, for example. Don’t you almost wish you could overhear what they’re talking about? Aren’t you tempted to make up a story? Little confession: that’s my son and his daughters. I didn’t...

This is too good. How we tell our stories matters. Missed mentioning that how we punctuate our stories might also matter. Comma, comma, comma! Not sure who created this. Just showed up in my e-mail this morning. Thanks, whoever you are. Blog this! Bookmark on Delicious Digg this post Recommend on Facebook Share on Linkedin Share on Posterous share via Reddit Share with Stumblers Tweet about it Subscribe to the comments on this post Print for...

Chimamanda Adichie, Nigerian novelist, makes a dramatic argument on the danger of a single story. This is worth 18 minutes of your time! I’ve watched it three times. She argues that when we think we know someone’s story, we limit them. When we try to make our lives fit some story, we limit ourselves. We need all our stories. We need to tell them, listen to them, search and preserve...

I had a great aunt whose idea of entertainment was to bring out the family photographs and carefully repeat the names, “This is cousin So-and-So.” A man’s wife was always “Mrs. So-and-So,” never a first name, who was called something else before she was married and something else after she re-married. Of course, Mrs. So-and-So was related to someone else I was supposed to know . . .. I was worse than bored. I grumped and slumped until...