Watching videos of the Minneapolis protesters this week, bundled in ski garb, down coats and balaclavas, has me thinking metaphors. They are in a deep…
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Mr. Trump doesn’t know something about war heroes. A cemetery in Margraten, Netherlands, is proof. It is an undulating blanket of grass with over 8200…
If I could, I would bring the warring exes of our broken national marriage into my old family therapy office. With a sofa and stuffed…
I remember there were two men. Only one was talking to me. I remember they wouldn’t let my mother in the room. I knew, 5-year-old…
When he pushed his way in, we were packed together on a street corner, placards and people happily jammed together. Seven thousand of us turned…
Does every white person feel guilty when they hear a story of enslavement? I hope not, because when they do, it can get in the…
When I was a newly-hatched therapist, I believed I was supposed to know more than my client. What good is a license if you aren’t…
It was an outrageous day when a policeman knocked on our door. He wanted help finding next of kin. A drunk driver had just killed…
It was traffic that brought Rory in to therapy. He hated incompetent drivers. His wife said he was dangerous on the road and needed therapy…
Wilbert Walters was twenty-three in 1952, when he returned home to New Orleans after crossing into adulthood in the US Air Force. The past four…