Author Archives: Patti Davis
WHEN AMERICA PAUSES TO GRIEVE
I watched Elizabeth Dole walk slowly down the aisle of the National Cathedral, her eyes full of sorrow and memory and the strength that human beings manage to call up in times of great loss. I thought of the day
THE FACES OF ABORTION
I remember the smell of blood. Metallic, almost like rust. My friend sat on the toilet as blood streamed out of her; I was perched on the edge of the tub in her small bathroom. She and the guy she’d
ABOUT GRATITUDE
In my new book, Floating in the Deep End, I write about the importance of finding gratitude even in the choppy, unfriendly tides of losing a loved one to Alzheimer’s. When I was running my support group, Beyond Alzheimer’s, if
FLOATING IN THE DEEP END (an excerpt)
In the end, we remember people in pieces – slivers of memory, images, bursts of sound and trails of whispers. When I remember my father, I think of his eyes. As a child, I searched for them, wanting feverishly for
LEADING US THROUGH GRIEF
Just after the bombings in Afghanistan killed American soldiers as well as Afghan citizens, President Biden addressed the families of the dead by saying, “You get this feeling like you’re being sucked into a black hole in the middle of
DEB HAALAND AND THE SLAUGHTER OF WOLVES
I was among many people who rejoiced when Deb Haaland was appointed Secretary of the Interior. I expected that many of the egregious acts of the Trump administration would be swiftly reversed, most notably the removal of wolves from the
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE NO LONGER GET EMBARRASSED?
At this May’s Republican Convention in Utah, Mitt Romney stood in front of an audience of loud, heckling Trump cultists and said, “Aren’t you embarrassed?” Clearly the answer was no, since they continued screaming and booing and hurling insults. They
GRIEVING IN FRONT OF THE WORLD
We didn’t know their names before tragedy and cruelty took their loved ones from them. George Floyd’s siblings – Philonise, Terrance, LaTonya, Bridgett. Daunte Wright’s mother, Katie, who stood in front of microphones and told the world about the last
THE LONG REACH OF RACISM
In my novel The Earth Breaks in Colors, which I published in 2015, two eleven-year-old girls – one black, one white – start out with a clear, innocent view of their different skin tones. It’s just one of God’s many
STREET TIME
She sits on the sidewalk near the place where I get my mail. Sometimes she’s on the other side of the street, sometimes I have to walk around her. It’s obvious she hasn’t bathed in a long time. She is