Burnt Chocolate Stories

Several weeks ago, a young astronomer who couldn't have been more than twenty five years old, gave a presentation here at Saint John's about the current state of astronomy. In other words, what we know but also what we don't know, such as what came before the big bang and what exists beyond our universe and the many others that have been identified. What was the beginning and what is the end? Turns out, no one has any idea. The human mind is limited. We simply can't conceive of a constant continuum that has no beginning, middle or ending. Life just exists, always has and always will in some form or another. Forever. That thought is both unsettling and also freeing. It's changed my view about birth and death of loved ones. I've thought back to the night our son Ben died. I was there in the moment he drew his last breath and suddenly there was a rush, as if he couldn't get out of his wasted body fast enough. When my mother died, her bird breaths stopped in the...

I'm in Miami with my daughter Sarah, visiting my grandson Adam, who lives and works here, and his sister, Elizabeth, who flew down from New York to play with us. Of course they are the most wonderful human beings in the entire world, but I've been thinking about why being with them is so extraordinary, beyond the fact that they belong to me. One gift is that I've lived long enough to see them mature into full blown adults who treasure peace and love and appreciate for the many differences between people. These are the values I hoped to instill in my children and it's wonderful to see them in my grandchildren. I've also been thinking about the differences between our relationship with our children versus our  grandchildren. For one, we worry much less about the decisions they make about life plans, what school they attend, who their friends are, who they love and marry. We're still very much invested without the worry and concern. We leave that to their parents h...

Ben, Matt, Becky, Sarah and Josh Steve and I moved our family to Evanston the same summer as our fifth child, Rebeccah was born. About two years later, the social worker at Lincoln School, Ben Soltz, sent around a sheet asking anyone who wanted to join a mother's group to sign up. Eight of us joined and remained committed for years. I've come to think of that group as mothers mothering mothers. We were committed and rarely missed a Monday afternoon. Ben considered it his way of staying sane. I will be forever grateful for those years. One year, the day after Mother's Day, we shared our individual celebrations with each other. I never considered the holiday terribly important. A day that any of my children helped with the dishes or cleaned up their rooms was a treat. Still in my bed, I could hear the children scampering about and shouted, "Bring me my presents!" And they came running with handmade goodies they'd produced at school. Wanting to hedge my bets, I h...