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While washing the cheese grater tonight after dinner, a memory popped into my head. Flashback to high school, maybe age 16, in “Teen Living” class with several of my (Virginia) Beach-crazed friends. This particular memory was of the day when we made pasta with Bolognese sauce, topped with freshly grated cheese, and a green salad on…

I’ve written before about the significance of language and my concerns about many words used to describe (and deride) people with disabilities. It can be subtle (even the word disability gives me pause). It can be blatant (“You’re such a retard”). It happens at all levels of culture–from politicians to celebrities to my close friends,…

When I was a kid, I loved the movie Dirty, Rotten Scoundrels. I thought Steve Martin was hilarious. If you haven’t seen it, or to refresh your memory, as a part of a scam, Steve Martin pretended to be a man with mental disabilities. (Just to be clear–he wasn’t actually playing a character with disabilities.…

We are a talkative family. Peter and I find ourselves narrating our lives with statements most people find superfluous: “I am going to get the mail,” or, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get a glass of water,” and so forth. Our kids have taken on the same pattern. “Look, Mom, it is a…
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