Where’s Oma? Her progeny and namesake looking everywhere for the old lady — how we wish we could get her on the phone just one last time

My small daughter favours her Oma, which often confuses me in the weirdest moments. She’ll make a face that looks like her mama’s mama, but her whole demeanor and physical appearance is such a mix between my wife, Miriam, and my mother, Martha Frances. As they say, she went to meet her maker a few… Continue reading Where’s Oma? Her progeny and namesake looking everywhere for the old lady — how we wish we could get her on the phone just one last time

losing what little grasp of reality I still had, while God was quietly laughing

You‘ve got a plan? Really? Good luck with that. When I was a teenager, my only two goals in life were not to be an alcoholic like my dad and to avoid English teaching. Like my mom. Guess what. Since moving back to Germany in 2001, after living here as a small child, and finding… Continue reading losing what little grasp of reality I still had, while God was quietly laughing