My wife Peggy grew up on a small lake north of Chicago. The brick house had a long, sloping back yard bordered by giant oak trees and a split rail fence. A slightly wobbly, wooden pier jutted out into the lake, making it the perfect launch pad for children to come...
Growing up I never considered Jimmy a nickname. An uncle once tried to call me Jimbo, which I flatly rejected. Jimmy was my name. I loved the way it rolled off my tongue: "Jimmy Ogan". My name had symmetry and a hint of alliteration. In middle school, all the Jimmys...
Our deer love a fresh tulip bud. It seems there is nothing quite like it in Spring. My contemplation garden is now a collection of straight green stems standing among a bed of abundant tulip leaves. Except for this one. The lone survivor. I said to a fellow...
This is my first time having ALS. Consequently, it has been challenging to answer many of the questions put to me routinely. Quite often, I have no language to describe my physical sensations and emotions, much less the inward journey of my soul. When children are too...
It's time to introduce you to the story of Lefty and Righty. The year is 1956. The place is the sweet womb of one Bernice Jean Galbraith Ogan, a 27 year old school teacher in Lorain, Ohio. You'll remember Lorain, for its famous, polluted Black River that flamed its...
Today, we mark two years since our beloved Jim passed away. Our Plews-Ogan family, including Rowan and baby Phoebe, Erin and Hal, and Will and Monika, are gathering for the weekend as we will every year. This year, we’re in Minneapolis. The time together has given us...