My mom taught me how to be tough. Not tough in the way we usually think of the word “tough,” you know what I mean, bleeding from the head, walk it off, fistfight on the school bus, that sort of thing. (My mom’s like 5’ 3” and only weighs a buck and change maybe, though I did once witness her take a...

My mom taught me to love words. We were poor when I was a kid, so we never had the latest toys.

My mom taught me the ritual of family dinner. Monday through Friday we sat down together as a family to eat and talk about our day. Dad came home, siblings in from riding our bikes, hands washed, table set, everyone at the table until dessert was over and the kitchen cleaned. Then you were excused...