Dancing the dance. It can be perplexing and, quite frankly, draining. We want and need to protect our children. In that service, some parents label Halloween as “of the devil.”
All our fears that emerge with the projections of our magical thinking, as well as the various realistic fears that come with our mere existence on this planet, begin in our pre-school years.
It took me about forty-five minutes to put the facial make-up on. It was a painstaking effort, especially round the eyes. I certainly didn’t want any make-up accidentally going into them, though I didn’t want any flesh color
I found myself murmuring to my wife, “People are so stupid.” We were returning from vacation in the Poconos. We had forgotten that we told ourselves we’d never again come back at the end of a holiday weekend.
My grandson, Dylan, is five. He has a wonderful personality, a great sense of humor, and is charming, delightful, and sharp. All character traits that run in our family, of course!!
I lost my father when I was eight. I didn’t lose him physically; that happened when I was twenty-eight. I lost him as a dad.
The small and otherwise sparse attic held our three beds. They were set only about two feet apart, or even less; I could reach out my right arm, and, if I stretched hard enough, touch my brother Ron’s bed from my bed.
In mulling over what led to my becoming an author, I found myself asking myself, “What is writing?” The answer that popped into my head was, “Simply talking.” I find this answer to be accurate, and a fitting one for me.
Are you in a traumatic relationship? Today’s guest, Author Frank Barbehenn, shares his story and talks about his book Faith of a Father.