Okay. Third college drop-off in six days. I promise next week we’ll get back to a medical topic. This one is the hardest. Why? Because it’s the last one. I am about to come home to a house that is decidedly emptier. And how do I feel? Old. That’s the word I keep coming back to. Old. I don’t know why, but I keep picturing the couple from the movie Up. And we all know how well that turned out for the wife. (If you don’t know, go watch the movie—but know that the first five minu

What does soiling the nest mean? Well—just what it sounds like. Shitting in your house. It's that period before a kid leaves home when the bickering seems to increase, the eye rolling becomes Olympic level, the nagging reaches new heights, and everyone suddenly finds everyone else incredibly annoying. And why do we soil our nests?

This week, I prepare to drop off all three of my kids at their respective colleges for the first time. Which, I guess, makes me what people call an empty nester. But why do they call it an empty nest? When baby birds grow up and fly away, the mama bird also abandons the nest. Yet in my case—and maybe yours—you have to return to the nest. So what exactly are you returning to?

A blog about photos and what the story they tell.

This past weekend, I visited my college. It was a real college visit for my youngest, and while I’ve been back to campus a handful of times since graduating nearly thirty years ago, it was the first time I was there in an official capacity: as the parent of a prospective student. As I walked the campus, I realized I wasn’t just revisiting my college years—I was imagining what I hoped my son would carry into his own, IF he decided to come here. A mother and her son stroll acro

Tribute to my dad who died 11 years ago