Christmas and a tale of two memoirs
On a cold December night, the kids and I snuggled into pillows and blankets to watch “Mickey’s Christmas Carol,” my all-time favorite version of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol.”
On a cold December night, the kids and I snuggled into pillows and blankets to watch “Mickey’s Christmas Carol,” my all-time favorite version of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol.”
If you’ve ever felt the impulse to break free from everyday life and give back to humanity in a meaningful way, here’s a story for you.
I’m currently reading “The Good Life: Lessons from the World’s Longest Scientific Study of Happiness,” by Robert Waldinger and Marc Schulz. The book has been cited in many articles I’ve read, so I figured it was time to go back to the source.
My family and I are just back from Canada. We visited Toronto last year and Winnipeg this year, and we’ll probably head back there a couple more times – possibly to Montreal or Ottawa or Vancouver – before the children’s passports expire.
On April 27, our family (belatedly) celebrated St. George’s Day. My husband (English) launches the same lecture series every spring when the patron saint of Ireland garners worldwide attention (it may have something to do with the green beer), while the feast of England’s dragon-killing patron goes largely unnoticed in this country. Thus, we must compensate.
In February, I went to Reserve to interview Sr. Felissa Zander, who has served in various capacities at St. Francis Solanus Catholic School for six decades.
Last month, Hospital Sisters Health System announced the impending closure of two Catholic hospitals – St. Joseph in Chippewa Falls and Sacred Heart in Eau Claire – along with 19 clinics serving western Wisconsin’s rural towns.
En route to the Cities in late November, I heard Bing Crosby and Ella Fitzgerald’s version of “A Marshmallow World,” a song popularized by another of my favorite vintage voices, Dean Martin.
Some weeks ago, parishes in the Diocese of Superior began receiving bundled issues of the Superior Catholic Herald.
On our way home from my 7-year-old son’s first Reconciliation retreat, he began to speak of the devil – with a young boy’s earnestness – about wanting to actually see that he exists, horns, fork and all.