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Paths are made by walking.

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Inheritance

February 7, 2022April 20, 2022 / Nancy Friedland / 17 Comments

I inherited my father's brown eyes, bushy eyebrows, and his curly hair. I have his wheezy cough and I hear it when I'm sick, and wonder how he got into my room, though he is long gone. 

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Camp NanaPa

January 31, 2022April 13, 2022 / Nancy Friedland / 8 Comments

This winter we're back in the sleepover groove with the grandkids after a long hiatus. Fun but tiring. I somehow feel youthful and ancient all at once.

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Wordless Wednesday

May 19, 2021April 23, 2022 / Nancy Friedland / 5 Comments

On the road to eastside Oregon, re-learning our social skills.

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Risky Behavior

September 1, 2020April 19, 2022 / Nancy Friedland / 11 Comments

I'm at a restaurant a thousand miles from home, seated closely around a table with ten beloved family-in-law members. We are eating, drinking, chatting, unmasked, and I'm thinking, how the hell did I get here? Alarm bells clang in my head.

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Mother-in-Law

August 11, 2020April 25, 2022 / Nancy Friedland / 24 Comments

Marilyn was a family gal through and through, and she worked at being a good mother-in-law.

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Bird Friend

June 14, 2020April 25, 2022 / Nancy Friedland / 4 Comments

Today the grandkids and I buried one of the baby scrub jays that live in the tall line of arborvitae lining the upper edge of our backyard.

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Spring in Motion

March 26, 2020April 13, 2022 / Nancy Friedland / 13 Comments

A blur of activity, a brain that never stops, a trickster, a climber, a jumper, exuberance that makes me stop and watch, stop and breathe in her 8 year old essence.

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Death Don’t Have No Mercy

August 23, 2019April 15, 2022 / Nancy Friedland / 13 Comments

My mind lingers on death more often these days. I tell Alan that if I become too demented and disabled he should smother me with a pillow, but he hasn't agreed. How about a commemorative plaque on a bench instead?

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I Am Not Jewish, I Am Jewish

November 10, 2018April 12, 2022 / Nancy Friedland / 5 Comments

It was hard to know what disaster to pay attention to yesterday. And yet we keep on with our small lives, surviving, loving, laughing, singing. I'm privileged to be able to turn away.

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Caligonian or Orefornian?

September 10, 2018April 18, 2022 / Nancy Friedland / 6 Comments

Four years in Portland, and I'm no longer feeling quite Californian, and almost but not quite an Oregonian. I celebrated quietly and took note of how it feels now.

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