Voice & Vision Blog

Second-hand Santa

I love my family’s holiday traditions. What I love most about them is that they aren’t exactly like anyone else’s. When my husband and I started our family, and especially after we moved away with the military, we found ourselves forging new traditions. It wasn’t that we deliberately set out to do things differently than our parents had, but our circumstances—location, resources, interests, and so on—were different than theirs, so adapting the way we celebrated holidays was only natural. First...

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Be a Hero: Volunteer to donate bone marrow

Kerry holding her bone marrow bag
I think we all secretly hope for a chance to be heroic. In fact, I believe heroism is in our DNA. While we won’t all have the opportunity to carry someone out of a burning building or push someone out of the way of a speeding train, there are many ways for normal people to safely experience the rush of being a hero: one of those ways is by volunteering to donate bone marrow. I know what you’re probably thinking right now . . . that you’ve heard donating bone marrow is extremely painful,...

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Of Doors and Dachshunds

A black and tan dachshund named Basil stole my heart when I was a little girl. So, many years later, when I had the opportunity to adopt a dachshund of my own, I jumped at the chance.  Sammi was also black and tan, with a smooth coat and shiny brown eyes. She came to us when her previous owner realized her life was too busy for a dog, and felt guilty that the poor little gal was stuck in a kennel for way too many hours every day. Being confined as much as Sammi was seemed to have caused some...

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Holding on to Memories . . . and Small Appliances

Kathryn and her Food Processor
When I got home today I found a package with my name on it, tucked behind my storm door. I picked it up and stood in the doorway staring down at it and I had to laugh: I had absolutely no idea what was in it. The only thing that came to mind was tea. I remembered ordering my favorite British decaf tea last weekend. But judging by the feel of the padded envelope, I knew that wasn’t what it was. I settled myself at the kitchen table and tore open the package. I spied a bit of clear Lucite peeking...

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My War with Words

I am fighting a losing battle, and I know it. I want the English language to stop changing. Well, not completely; I don’t mind adding new words and expressions here and there; I just wish the old ones—and the way we use them—didn’t have to change. I’ll give you an example: When my daughters and I go out for a meal together and our server approaches the table, greeting us with a cheery, “Hi guys!” I feel my blood pressure rise and I have the overwhelming impulse to loudly state what should be obvious,...

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