The year is more than halfway over. That was fast.
Maybe my life is, too. I’m 35. Many men die before turning 70.
I look in the mirror.
Who are you?
I don’t know anymore. But I want to. Need to.
I think we go through a bit of an identity crisis after divorce. Maybe not everyone. Maybe just me.
For so long, I was Matt—husband, newspaper reporter, fun guy.
Then I was Matt—husband, dad, fun guy.
Now? Part-time father. Wannabe writer who doesn’t write.
The most-important lesson I learned in a decade of newspaper reporting—bar none—was that if you want to find answers, you need to ask the right questions.
I Am My Mother
My mom is the oldest of eight children—the first four of which were born in four consecutive years. Eighteen years separate my mom from her youngest sister, who is…
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