A lot of people like to go through photographs of their loved ones when they die — to see the faces of those they lost, remember an expression or an event. I was certainly no different when my big brother, David — a doctor and athlete — died in 2008. I was possibly (probably) more... Continue Reading →
When I was born, my brother David was already in junior high: a 12-year-old boy with glasses, gap teeth, and a sort-of-shag haircut, except not as cool. It was 1973, and his geekiness belied what a heartbreaker he would soon become — after contacts and braces and athletics (plus a better haircut). He already loved nature... Continue Reading →
Today the weather was so much like it was 16 years ago today: clear and crisp and full of promise. That feel of autumn just nodding its head, the school year starting, new beginnings. Still, I was tugged back to one of the hardest days ever, because that's what painful anniversaries do. Three hundred and... Continue Reading →
I hate to fly, but I love to see other places, so planes are a necessary evil. Things had been rough both personally and professionally for weeks, and I was ready to do just about anything for a break from my life anyway; I felt tight and angry as a fist in need of some... Continue Reading →
It's my brother's birthday again, the day each year when I marvel at what age he would be if he hadn't died — nearly 16 years ago now — from a fall while hiking in the Colorado mountains, and I deeply wish he were here so we could celebrate in person. Nevertheless, I always like... Continue Reading →
Anne Pinkerton 