Mary Novaria

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw a couple of suburban kids raking leaves the other day. Were these kids being punished for bad report cards or an infraction of house rules? Here in the 'burbs, we just don't see that many kids doing yard work. We see a few dads, the occasional mom, and lawn services. I recalled a friend who jokingly called it “Johnson County child abuse” when she had two of her five children sharing the same bedroom. Did this leaf-raking task fall into that category, as well? What I really wanted to know was, How on earth did these parents inspire their progeny to rake? In our house, the offspring have always mysteriously disappeared or miraculously wanted to do their homework when there are dishes to be done, snow to be shoveled, leaves to be raked. We’ve actually paid one of our son's friends to do yard work for us. We have never been good at getting our children to do chores. It’s one of our failings as parents. When I was a kid—OMG, did I ju...

We’ve got a missing baby in our city. Thanks to the Amber Alert system, folks know immediately these days when a child is snatched. Our local TV stations are on this pretty much 24/7, which is both a blessing and a curse. News crews are working their tails off to feed the curious and ravenous masses. And a feeding frenzy it has become… News of missing children brings out the best and the worst in people. On the upside, there is empathy, prayer and a willingness to lend a hand. Downside? Jumping to conclusions, finger pointing and criticizing the police and the parents. Somewhere in the middle is morbid curiosity and armchair theorizing. Personally, I have spent some time in all three places. It is so easy to get drawn in to the drama—a mother’s tearful pleas, helicopter views of the search, a neighbor’s speculation and live blogs. Faceook and other interactive sites create a sense of community… dis unity, too, as people’s opinions differ on who’s to blame. I’m guilty of throwin...

Ex-con, kitchen and craft maven Martha Stewart’s daughter, Alexis, has written a revealing book about growing up with her mommy dearest. Stewart says the book is all in fun, one big joke. Maybe. I’m sure Alexis will laugh all the way to the bank. Remember what Frank McCourt said at the beginning of Angela’s Ashes? “When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.” Authors have been telling tales about their upbringings since the dawn of the age. Readers love to get a glimpse inside the misery of others, especially if those others are celebs. But what about us regular folks? How much is okay to tell? I wrestle with this in my own writing because our stories are rarely only our stories. They almost always involve other people. I don’t want to...