Kelly Burch

“Her face is beautiful. Beautiful,” Tiegs said.

No having a community rally in support, like it is supposed to during a crisis, can make a family in mental health crisis feel shamed and stigmatized.

Just like kids who kick the seat in front of them and middle-aged women who get drunk and chatty on long flights, crying babies are a fact of life.

“How many time have I asked you….” I say in frustration, and then it hits me. The real question I should be asking is how many times I’ve uttered that phrase.

Last week, I did something reckless. I went out for Mexican food, and drank a margarita. The server didn’t ask for my ID, and she didn’t even ask for proof that my ovaries were on lock down.

I’ve been waiting years to celebrate my undying love of all things Christmas with my child, but now that my toddler is old enough to understand the joys of the holiday season I’ve realized that there are some things about the holidays that only a parent can understand.

While I would like to think that I paused for a minute or two to think about what it means to be American, I was mostly focused on looking forward to the fireworks show.
But all of that changed for me last year. Three weeks before the Fourth of July, my husband became a citizen of the United States.

Someone yelled out a racist comment, and Trump said, “Hey, I can’t say it, but he can.”

In order to connect with other men and women living with a terminal diagnosis, LoRe founded Hope and Friendship Metastatic Breast Cancer Foundation, which provides a support group in northern Massachusetts, where she lives. Through the support group LoRe has seen the devastating effects of breast cancer, which too often go unnoticed amid early detection and awareness campaigns.

As my own home ownership dreams were delayed, I was able to look back on my parents’ decision to rent with a lot more understanding. My parents sometimes struggled to keep the electricity on, but they always made sure that the rent was paid, and that my siblings and me had a wonderful home, no matter whose name was on the deed.