Holidays
Writing on the holidays and special celebrations I observe.
-
Father’s Day always makes me think of that Harry Chapin song, “Cat’s in the Cradle” – More so now that the kids are getting noticeably older. As the kids get older, I get older, so maybe it is just me getting old and sentimental but Chapin’s Cradle seems to have more resonance now. It’s like
-
Last year I was given the opportunity to address an audience of fourth through twelfth graders at an awards ceremony. The speech I gave was not how I imagined it. While I knew what I wanted to say, armed with only an outline, I rambled and eventually my audience lost sight of my point.
-
I remember our first Christmas together. I had gotten her one of those hand-held electric back massagers (which she asked me to return). She had gotten me a DVD player (which we had to buy a new TV to accommodate). And we had a live tree that we bought from a reformed drug addict who
-
Marita doesn’t need a brand-new school with acres of playing fields and gleaming facilities. She doesn’t need a laptop, a smaller class, a teacher with a PhD, or a bigger apartment. She doesn’t need a higher IQ or a mind as quick as Chris Langan’s. All those things would be nice, of course. But they
-
Before I was a parent I used to joke: “That’s how Chinese people show love.” I made that joke every time my friend complained about how critical her mother was of her. We were in our 20s then. It is curious just how much impact “mother” has on a person. I am just over 40
-
Wishing you a Happy Year of the Rat!
-
I owe Jean Shepherd an apology. For several years I have been crediting Truman Capote with Jean’s story. A Christmas Story is one of my favorite holiday movies. For years I confused it with Truman Capote’s A Christmas Memory. Little Ralphie from the former story is how I pictured the character, Dill in Harper Lee’s
-
My friends will tell you that I complained about “being old” way before I actually “got old.” Before I turned 40, I joked that when I did I expected the sky to open up and a fantastic beam of light would hit me and imbue me with some “universal knowledge.” No light and sometimes I
Vincent Young 