Top Stories

Stories in Families that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.

The Best Life Coach
I sat in the bleachers fuming. Being dragged to the Little League park to watch my brothers’ games was bad enough. But that summer the league was short of coaches so my dad stepped up to help out which for me meant sitting on the sidelines of yet another team. The sun was brutal. I slid down the bench seeking refuge in my mom's shadow but the baked boards slivered my bare legs.
By Vivian R McInerny4 years ago in Families
How Therapy Helped Me When I Went Back To Work
Growing up, I thought therapy was reserved for those with 'real problems' Asians stereotypically don't do therapy. We suffer in silence and let that shit brew until it becomes stomach cancer.
By Katharine Chan4 years ago in Families
Don't quit
I don't remember exactly how old I was when my father first took me fishing. I think it was before I went to school, but I can't say for sure, though.
By Nik Hein4 years ago in Families
My Dad the Bear
The call came at 2:30am on June 30th, 2010. A call that jolts you from your sleep in the middle of the night is never a good call. I don’t remember the exact conversation, only phrases like "sepsis" and “massive heart attack” and “we did everything possible” and “we’re very sorry.”
By Heather Hagy4 years ago in Families
With Love, There's Always a Place to Land
It all started with an email from my cousin Suzie’s daughter Raven. On a Sunday evening, I read: “My father (Dave) is very ill, and I am hoping if I get his old license plates to you with some small watch faces you could make two small birdhouses. I want them to look like my parents’ house, with the same bright green door. I know you’re busy. As long as one gets done for my parents, mine can wait. I’m hoping if it gets done my dad will come back as a type of bird to visit them.”
By Catherine Kenwell4 years ago in Families
Memories of my Parents
It has been said that a picture is worth one thousand words. As I look at this picture which was taken in 1979 at our home in Sedgewick in our living room one Sunday afternoon after dinner.
By Lorne Vanderwoude4 years ago in Families
What I learned while writing my dad's eulogy
Dad dying came as a shock to us all. In truth, all of us, Mom included, thought that Mom would have died first. Dad had been diabetic for about 30 years, but he’d managed it, went for regular check-ups, and was relatively fit. But we didn’t know he had heart disease, or that he’d had a previous heart attack (apparently, he didn’t know that one either). So, when he went for a motorbike ride with his buddies that January day, he didn’t come home.
By D-Donohoe4 years ago in Families
Seminole Wind
My parents' divorce was final when I was around 5 years old. I remember bursting into tears when my mom told me, even though I think the only thing I knew about it all was that everything was going to be different.
By Anna Boisvert4 years ago in Families
On Having A Child With A Rare Condition
First off, I want to say the child in this picture is my nearly 9 year old son Cody. He loves animals, music, playing with toys, being outside, watching TV, and sometimes watching a movie.
By Pestis Deathbird4 years ago in Families
On the Other Side of Fear
I’ve always been a chicken, but I rarely give in to my fear. I guess I get that from my father. As I stood in line for the newest roller coaster at Busch Gardens in Williamsburg last week, my idea for this challenge piece came to mind.
By Jennifer Christiansen4 years ago in Families
Anarchy In Slow Motion
During some of the most turbulent years of his life, Bart Lynn Howell and his friend, Shane, were siphoning gas out of the tanks of cars on their block with a rubber hose and a gas can. Was this altogether intelligent? Probably not considering these two were not unknown in their tiny hometown of Fort Dodge, Iowa, and they were both high on some substance, and more than a little giddy from swallowing some of the fuel they were trying to steal.
By Ashley McGee4 years ago in Families
Sunday Afternoon in Hyde Park
In 1975, my father took a Sunday stroll along the stone pathways of Hyde Park in London. A crisp fall day, Speaker’s Corner was in full swing. People shouted from soapboxes. Gathering crowds heckled back. Children ran through the open fields with pinwheels. The grass was so green that my father believed he had stepped into a picture from a traveling book. A young man in his early twenties fresh out of college and looking to make a name for himself as a singer/songwriter in London, the experience was so moving that he penned a song that changed the trajectory of his life. Forty some odd years later, I walk the same pathways to find the places my father sang about to understand how I am like him.
By W. Tyler Paterson4 years ago in Families