I was so scared my teeth were chattering on a warm spring day in Bellingham, Wash.
“I care too much,” Jeff says. “I worry about everyone. My girlfriend. My mom. My little sisters. I have an extreme heart.”
Once upon a time, I thought about calling this column “Mad as Hell.”
Our children and grandchildren are what we eat.
I quoted Shakespeare’s Hamlet in my last column who, after waxing on about “what a piece of work is man,” asks his friend Rosencrantz: “What is this quintessence of dust?”
I love genes. I can’t get enough of them.
I hate the words. Enable. Enabler. Enabling.
The late Mel Schulstad is one of the most beloved figures in the addiction and recovery field. His stories of his own recovery are the stuff of legend.
Every Tuesday evening at Trilogy Recovery Community’s Family Support Group, we tell stories. “We” includes parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers, cousins, and family friends.
Manuel has two tattoos, one on each shoulder. He pulls aside his orange jumpsuit to show us the words, which are written in a looping script.