This is an open letter to the First Lady, Dr. Jill Biden. Dear Dr. Biden, I belong to a group of ten women all of whom...
Betsy Ashton
Other Than That…
So, there we were on Saturday, April 13, just back from grocery shopping when at 11:15A we heard a huge crash outside....
Mom, Vin Scully, and Me
In 1958, my mother took me to see my first Major League Baseball game in the L.A. Coliseum. The Dodgers had just moved...
Memories of Past March Madnesses
I sit here looking at my bracket chart, unable to begin the process of seeing how soon said bracket will be busted by...
Best Laid Plans…
I had planned to write the end-of-year blog post about what happened to me last year. Some of it might have been true;...
Lessons Learned–And Broken
Almost any writer can tell you that the moment she comes out as a "writer," she will drown in a deluge of conflicting...
I Will Go On The Record…
...to say that "age matters." To say it doesn't belies the fact that age drives nearly everything we do from birth to...
Surviving Writer’s Brain Cramps
Over the weekend I came down with a bad case of cramps. Writer's cramps. Brain cramps. Words got stuck, no matter what...
Why I Don’t Run For A plane
Back in the late 73s, I was stuck in traffic on my way to Los Angeles International Airport to catch a PSA jet to San...
An Open Letter To My Father
Let me start by saying I never celebrated Father's Day. I never bought a card, picked out a terrible tie or a pair of...
Twas the Night Before Deadline
with apologies to CLEMENT CLARKE MOORE 'Twas the night before deadline, when all through the house Not a writer...
If Not Now
I'm likely to catch hell for this post, but I don't care. I've written passionately about rape, bullying, drug...