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Experience is the best teacher. As we age, we have come across all kinds of life changes and challenges. We have witnessed sorrow and joy in our personal lives; we have seen and been part of history-making events. Some of us have been divorced and remarried. These are the stories of our lives. Join us as we share the lessons that have shaped the human instinct deep within us. If you have a story to share, please email it to me at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.


Uncle Harvey

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.

The Sweater

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.

Elliott’s Daily Bread

By Kim Kruger

My late grandfather Elliott Olman, "Ole" to his friends and peers, was a short, stout Norwegian who worked 47 years as an auto mechanic and welder in Madison, Wisconsin. Grandpa had huge hands and fingers, the size of

Gifts Long Remembered

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

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