Columns

By: Father Pablo Migone
Originally Appeared in : 9904-2/14/19
By: Rachel Balducci
Originally Appeared in : 9904-2/14/19

Two of our very dearest friends celebrated the marriage of their daughter last week, a strange new event where we are no longer peers of the bride but of the mother of the bride. How very surreal to watch our good buddy Dennis walk his daughter down the aisle, when it seems like just a few weeks ago we were all members of each other’s wedding parties.

By: Jason Halcombe
Originally Appeared in : 9904-2/14/19

“How much do you think our painter would charge to paint the inside of the house?” rolled off of Magan’s tongue harmlessly just as a bite of greens rolled onto mine during our New Year’s Day supper.

 

By: Father Pablo Migone
Originally Appeared in : 9903-1/31/19

Leer en Espanol

When I was in the fifth grade, I placed beans over moist cotton balls inside clear plastic cups and waited. Soon enough, a slender green shoot sprung forth from one of the beans. I still clearly remember the excitement I felt to see life spring forth from the small, plain bean. The shoot grew quickly, and its bright green color stood in contrast to the dark bean. I do not recall the exact topic of the science fair project

 

By: Rachel Swenson Balducci
Originally Appeared in : 9903-1/31/19

Our son Henry got braces last week, which instantly aged him by at least three years. He went into the appointment looking like our sweet youngest son and emerged a few hours later, mouth full of metal, looking rather “teenager-y.”

 

I sent a picture of Henry and his new smile to our family group chat.

 

“He grew up right before our eyes,” said college sophomore Elliott.

 

By: Jason Halcombe
Originally Appeared in : 9903-1/31/19

Growing up in the 1980s, there was one constant when it came to communicating to the outside world: a landline phone.

 

It was customary that every working-class home in America had either a tan or cream-colored rotary dial telephone, with middle class homes stepping up to touch tone models, sometimes found in exotic colors like olive, and even orange. 

 

By: Father Pablo Migone
Originally Appeared in : 9902-1/17/19
By: Rachel Swenson Balducci
Originally Appeared in : 9902-1/17/19
We headed out on a family hike last week, eager to get in some sunshine after weeks of relentless rain. It had been several very lazy weeks of Christmas break, and while I’m all for relaxing and resting up, it was starting to feel like the days of being cooped up in the house would never end.
 
By: Jason Halcombe
Originally Appeared in : 9902-1/17/19
There is a widely-circulated story involving my grandma and a pair of nicely-dressed young men stopping by her house to ask, “Have you heard the good news of the Lord?”
 
Grandma welcomed them in and asked if they’d like something to drink while she fixed a cup of coffee. (They weren’t interested in the coffee.)
 
By: Father Pablo Migone
Originally Appeared in : 9901-1/3/19
I recently watched a movie released in 2007.  I had heard it was excellent, but the plot did not intrigue me: a young man goes hiking in Alaska and dies shortly before returning to civilization because he mistakenly eats poisoned berries.  I had been terribly wrong for years.  The story of Christopher McCandless is extraordinarily moving.  It is a story of discovery, healing and sadly, premature death.
 

Pages

Subscribe to RSS - Columns
Go to top