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being different blog

I am very tired and am going to pull my blanket over myself and snuggle up to the closest of my four dogs laying in my bed with me.

9:15. We're doing better than yesterday; we're out of the house five minutes earlier. I back out of the driveway into the street, put the car into first gear and start up the hill.

         I spoke in my las

Summer 1998, ‘Dzien dobry….’ or ‘Good afternoon… where the only words I caught from the beautiful flight attendant in the LOT airlines as our efficient pilots maneuvered ou

Growing up, I wasn't popular. I didn't run with a popular crowd, belong to any one clique, or fit any one image typically found among the many high school stereotypes that exist.

A Gift to Her by God 1958.jpg

A Gift to Her by God

 

My Car

Growing up, I always wanted to be different, to have people think there was something special about me.

I wear glasses. I have since I was a teenager. The prescription isn't particularly strong, and I don't need them to read.

My childhood was neatly bifurcated into two spheres that never, ever intersected.  In the one sphere, I was ordinary, accepted, understood.  In the other sphere, I was different, on the outside l

I've always told my stepdaughter Holly, who was born with a disability, that she shouldn't automatically assume that she can't do something until she's tried it.