Tonkin to You!

 Despite the stigma with such terminology today, my mom proudly epitomized the term “fiery redhead.” She was headstrong, opinionated, and had no problem telling other people (including her twin boys) her opinions on anything. She had strong views on how the world functioned, the value of hard work, and, above all, the need for her twin sons to have each other’s backs. I’d have likely disappointed my mom more by backing down from a conflict that needed to happen than by getting a three-day suspension for a fist fight in 8th grade (true story).  My mom showed love through action. She worked long hours as a single parent at a factory job so my brother and I would have amazing gifts at Christmas, new clothes for school, and homemade pizza for our birthdays. I have many fond memories of this once a year treat, which also happened to be one of the few foods she could cook (by her own admission). These pizzas, with her secret “hot roll mix” crust, were followed by a cake from Wissing...

  Many of us find new ways to describe ourselves in our 40s. Some of us are people “of a certain age.” Others are “not as young as we used to be.” The brave among us are “middle aged,” though that title conjures up images of a long-ago time when the world was becoming more decrepit and falling apart…a logical analogy with the new creaks and groans that seem to multiply every morning when we get up. And then there’s the sign on the side of the road of life: 50. Half a century on the planet. Officially eligibility for AARP and foster grandparent programs. Yeah. 50. It’s coming at me like a Gen-X-seeking missile in just a few weeks. The weirdest part isn’t that I’m GETTING older… it’s that I don’t FEEL older. Yes there are the grey hairs multiplying in my beard and the bedtimes that seem to be creeping earlier (as well as the urge to rise early….even on weekends), but I don’t see the world with angry eyes. I joke with my colleagues that we are all lucky to be teachers of the 18-...