By Penelope Needham
Uncle Harvey turned 88 on Wednesday. He is still over 6 feet tall as I judge from 5 foot 3, but his hearing is poor and his memory is failing. He is not able to negotiate a daily schedule without help and has lost interest in most
things. The books sit unopened, the computer is untouched. He no longer talks of college administration, teaching, business, flying airplanes, or public speaking. He sleeps a lot, but politely and generously rallies when there is a visitor and still retains his sense of humor.
By Julie Anderson
Sundays are always the hardest. There is no mom to call. For 20 some years I would call my mom every Sunday night. Not much was ever new for her, but I loved hearing her voice, picturing her still beautiful smile.
She spent her days sitting on a hard, straight back chair with a green cushion. In her final months she had a million dollar view of Lake Brophy in Alexandria, Minnesota, but she sat with her back to it, focused instead on the cooking shows she had on her small television.
Recollections of a Christmas past wrapped in the miracle of love.
By Kim L. Kruger
Among the many joys I look forward to each Christmas, none is more pleasant, if somewhat perilous, than the short walk to the end of my icy driveway to retrieve the daily contents of my cold, grey tin mailbox. Christmas