Monthly Archives: July 1998

Just when I think I know my sons, they change. At 10, I signed up my second son for children’s choir. He responded as if I had told him to lay down on the rack in the torture chamber. He … Continue reading →

The phone rang, interrupting my afternoon nap. Yawning I went to the kitchen to answer it. “Hello, Hershberger’s residence,” I mumbled. No one responded. I cleared my throat, “Hello?” I heard a quit click. “Okay, good-bye,” I hung up. It … Continue reading →

I used to scare my daughter every time I snapped my fingers. With a tremor in her teenage voice she says, “when I was a little kid, I would jump out of my skin at the snap of death from … Continue reading →

Shortly after I married into a family with two young sons, my husband bought a red, metal wagon with shiny black handle and white side-walled tired. On our shoestring budget, that wagon was our second vehicle. Even pulling the wagon, … Continue reading →