Many years ago, as in about 45 years ago, my Mothah gave my father a Valentine.  It was a pair of red, nylon boxer shorts.  It was a joke.  He never even had them on his body-not even once-because I, the one year old, snagged them and held on to them, well, for the better part …

Continue reading Britch


Psychoparenting: It ain’t for the weak

When someone younger than I am asks me what it is like to be a parent, my stock answer is “it hurts worse than anything I have ever done before”. I am talking about watching the milestones pass away, but I am also talking about the stuff nobody actually prepared me for. The stuff that …

Continue reading Psychoparenting: It ain’t for the weak