She follows my footsteps in the luxurious boutique.  I turn and face her unexpectedly.  Her porcelain pink skin blushes, shows she’s uncomfortable with people of color. Her fingers interlace tightly in front of her silk white blouse under a black cardigan, her weight shifts from leg to leg in a chic A-line black skirt.  She fumbles the words, “Let me know, if you need any help.”

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...The car is now standing still. I smell the disaster before I see it. A smell of fuel and burnt steel. Where are the kids? Not in the car. I look for them on the highway. I find their bodies. I take care of them until ambulances arrive. While running from one child to another, I discover strength in me.

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...What are your beliefs and conditionings; how were they formed; and how can you transform them into consciousness so you can fully live your life and contribute your unique gifts to the world?

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Mother’s Day 1972: It was my First Communion and, like all good Catholic girls, I was decked out in my white dress and veil, hands folded in prayer, and head bowed as a sign of my unworthiness. I stepped forward to receive my first taste of the consecrated host, and I was forever changed.

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...One part of me was urging the other part of me to get up, go to the professor, and seek clarity. The more fearful side of myself was anxious about being judged a fraud for being accepted to grad school at all; apprehensive of being yelled at or belittled.

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Most people think of memoir as a recounting of what we already know about our lives. But, in fact, what we already know is only the beginning of the journey of what I call purposeful memoir.

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...The relationship between song and education is well-known. Many have written on the subject, perhaps most famously Plato in The Republic. In it, Socrates warns about the dangers of teaching certain ungodly songs. If the gods are portrayed as vengeful and cruel, he says, what will prevent our children from emulating them?

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