In honor of Father’s Day, I remember mine…

It was early in the morning on November 1, 1966, and I was barely four years old.  I played with my two-year-old brother on the living room floor while my mother dashed downstairs to move laundry from the washer to the dryer.  I still hear the knock on the kitchen...

Meeting Aunt Violet

When I was a little girl, my mother told us once or twice about a curious tidbit of family history. I remember one conversation as we sat on our driveway in Morgantown, West Virginia, and played with a litter of 6-week-old kittens. “I have a sister out there...