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The Reluctant Park Mom

By Kate Wright» I recently attended a birthday party for my son's two-year-old friend. I knew only a few of the people there -- namely, the hosts and their extended family -- but that afternoon I met other moms, dads, and kids who live in my neighborhood. I settled in, keeping watch over my son, who was not yet one, as he played with the big kids. The sun was out. I had a cold drink in my hand. It was a beautiful day. A woman approached. We introduced ourselves and she asked me where I lived. When she found out I was from the neighborhood, she seemed surprised and said: "Oh. Are you a park mom? I've never seen you at the park before." I stood there, staring at her, until our hostess explained: "She's a friend from before the park." "Yes," I said, suddenly feeling awkward. "I do go to the park from time to time, but we do other things as well." The truth is, I don't want to be a Park Mom. (Comments)

Harder Than I Thought

By Debra Bourdeau McLoughlin» It was harder than I thought. We had joked about it - "Promise you'll pull the plug," my mother would say. "Sure, no problem, " I'd answer. And we'd laugh. As time went by it was less joking and more promising. I promise I won't let you suffer. I promise no life support. I promise I won't let you lay there with tubes coming out of you. As I watched her sleep - at least I hoped she was sleeping - I looked at all the tubes. And I thought about broken promises, and the phone call. "You have power of attorney, will you consent to surgery? Without surgery, she will not survive the night." My brother, who was there with her, pleaded for her life. And so I consented, against the thousand promises, against my better judgment. It was harder than I thought. My siblings and I fought over feeding tubes and respirators and extra measures and what she wanted and what she didn't want, over medical care and nursing homes. Over life and death. Because one did not have the heart to stop treatment and another did not have (Comments)

Born to Boycott

By Janet Golden» Not so long ago I emailed a close friend an article that revealed her favorite line of yoga wear, Lululemon, came from a company that promoted the works of Ayn Rand. I expected her to be grateful for the news and, since she is a good left political activist, to thank me for alerting her so she'd never shop there again. Instead she asked: "Why did you have to tell me that?" I was shocked at her response. But then, I come from a boycotting family. Growing up in Southern California we boycotted all things John Birch Society. No Russell Stover candy ever passed my lips. As my mother taught me, Mrs. Stover gave money to the Birchers. (Comments)

Reading the City

By Samantha Kirk» My father, a Navy veteran and contented suburban Maryland home-dweller, has trouble understanding why I love the city. When I talk about the row house I'm moving into in North Philadelphia, with its bathroom window offering an unobstructed view of the neighbor's bedroom, its crumbling drywall, its nightly chorus of stray cats, he waxes poetic about the Jeffersonian virtues of the countryside and the joys of homesteading. He knows I love the wilderness and the country; so why, he asks, have I spent most of my adult life seeking out the experience of the city? It's true that I am quite the nature lover. I hike, I climb rocks, I garden; plant identification is one of my hobbies. Being able to read a forest or meadow by the leaf shapes hidden within it is a wonderful thing. Much, in fact, like walking down a city (Comments)

Guess Where I Am

Best of VoxPop» The other day when I was on the SEPTA R5 everyone was on the phone but me. The train car was filled with the cacophony of blather. All my fellow passengers were talking at once, each one-sided conversation more insipid than the last. Some typical remarks: "I'm on the train!" "The second apartment we saw was even smaller, but I loved the kitchen." "I'm on the train!" "You found the document? Great! Now make five copies and give them to Mark." "I just got on the train!" "The podiatrist was out of the office, but when the nurse saw my bunion, she..." "I'm on the train!" Okay. So you're on the train. Now, can you possibly shut up about it for two seconds? (Comments)