Colored Water

In My Own Words Colored Water My father loved his parents. His father, Gus Oldham, was a strict disciplinarian, a mostly unsmiling man, who communicated his affection through small gestures. His mother, Angeline Oldham, was from the Cajun country of east Texas and she...

A Thief in the Night

In My Own Words A Thief in the Night Today would have been my mother’s 96th birthday. She died three years ago. My mother, a good person who loved her family, her friends, her church, her life, was robbed of all of it by Alzheimer’s Disease. And we were robbed of her....

Remembering Jon

In My Own Words Remembering Jon As the season turns to fall, I find myself thinking of my friend and writing partner, Jon. We both loved the change of seasons afforded us in North Carolina. Jon fancied himself as the 21st century Peter Pan. He said he was never going...

Encountering Elephants

In My Own Words Encountering Elephants I feel like elephants are my first cousins. I’m not exactly sure why, except for remembering when I was about four years old and saw “Dumbo” with my mother. There is a moment in the film that I still cannot talk...

A Boy, His Bike, and a Kind Stranger

In My Own Words A Boy, His Bike, and a Kind Stranger It was about 30 years ago that I became fully acquainted with the kind of students who come to Davidson College. My older son, 10-years old at the time, was free to ride his bicycle all over town, as were his...