On this day, many, many years ago, I was born. This morning, my daughter Annie asked, “What does it feel like to be half-way finished with your life?” She thought she was funny, but her words took me back in time. I thought about when my mother was the age I am now, I was five years old, and well on the way to becoming a writer. Her intertwined lessons of love and instruction have stuck to me like the velcro on my son’s shoes.
We didn’t have computers or cell phones, MP3 players or microwaves....