As our oldest daughter prepares for college, I'm thinking back on stories from my own dorm-life days.
Thirty years ago, I got lost in the wilderness--and found a feeling I've never forgotten.
As a male who lives in a mostly female world, I learned some important lessons from one "nasty" woman.
This week, I paused to think about the things I have to be thankful for--and remembered a teacher from Annandale High School.
The lesson I learned about service from a mysterious, far-away woman.
It's about building up, not tearing down.
It all has to do with not letting the really big chance pass you by.
Here's what I learned from watching my mother sing Christmas carols in a nursing home.
My first significant injury somehow makes for a fond memory.
Going faster is only better if you know where you're headed and actually want to get there. Twice a year every year of my childhood, we would drive to Parkersburg, West Virginia, to visit my grandmother. In the early years especially, these trips could be pretty horrific. Our family car, a 1970 Chevy Nova, featured …