I went to bed the night of July 13, 2019, with a sense of unease. Too many issues and feelings swirling around in this sometimes-tortured mind of mine:
I was in the supermarket the other day, all masked up, and the REO Speedwagon song, Keep on Loving You was playing as I entered the store.
This pandemic has brought a few unexpected gifts to me, one of them being the amount of emotional space that has been created to reflect on my upbringing and its effect on raising my daughter.
I am the first to admit that I can be stubborn at times. And when I use the term, it means that I expect much from myself. Maybe too much at times, but I know myself well enough that I’m able to adjust as needed. I’m grateful for this.
Thank you.
When I was an early teen, I could be found simultaneously reading (and re-reading) Rosalind Russell's autobiography and any book about Richard Nixon that I could get my adolescent hands on. Yeah, the contrast boggles my mind as well. But that's the kid I was.
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