Tag: father
Posted on June 20, 2015
by Jan Wilberg
7 Comments
One day my husband had no children and the next day he was the stepfather of an 11-year old girl. It happened that fast, overnight. None of us knew what we were doing. We just lurched. We lurched from getting along well enough to… Continue Reading “Father’s Day Post #3: Life is Full of Fine Surprises”
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Posted on June 16, 2015
by Jan Wilberg
7 Comments
While my Dad chalked his cue, I’d rack up the balls, arranging rearranging in the triangle all the balls as if eventually I’d get it right, the perfect mosaic, so he’d nod and break the rack, and see me as a player.
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Posted on April 29, 2014
by Jan Wilberg
7 Comments
When your father dies, you will be at a loss for words. If it’s a surprise, you will burst into tears. You will cover your face with your hands and cry like you were six-years old, like the time you got lost on the… Continue Reading “When Your Father Dies”
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Posted on April 19, 2014
by Jan Wilberg
16 Comments
Without thinking even 60 seconds, I hit the Buy Now button and sent my 89-year old father his first computer, a brilliant blue IMac. The same day I wrote him a letter, gave him my email address, and told him to email me when… Continue Reading “TIE and SIT”
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Posted on November 24, 2013
by Jan Wilberg
5 Comments
Don’t you wish sometimes you could have a Field of Dreams kind of experience and meet your parents before they were your parents? Encounter them somewhere ordinary like the line at the grocery store or getting gas at the corner station? Just chat with… Continue Reading “Ageless Timeless”
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Posted on September 2, 2013
by Jan Wilberg
5 Comments
When your father dies, you will be at a loss for words. If it’s a surprise, you will burst into tears. You will cover your face with your hands and cry like you were six-years old, like the time you got lost on the… Continue Reading “When Your Father Dies”
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Posted on April 10, 2013
by Jan Wilberg
2 Comments
I’d never seen one before but I knew what it was right away. The contraption laying at my feet underneath my dad’s old Sears picnic table was an animal trap. It sat in a heap, the chain and the two toothsome jaws, rusty with… Continue Reading “Old Roy, Deer Slayer”
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Posted on April 25, 2012
by Jan Wilberg
5 Comments
There was only one reason why my father would be calling me. My mother must be dead. He explained how it happened, how just last week he had given up taking care of her at home, that for the third time, she’d gone limp… Continue Reading “Prepare a Place For Me”
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