When a genetic disease looms, we’re more like our parents than we’d like to believe—and when we become parents, that fear only grows.
Disney’s Frozen juggernaut has been criticized for “sexy walking.” But the roots of what’s wrong lie in Midwestern pageants, not hip-hop videos.
Years go by easier when there are 2,000 miles separating a father and son. Then an American flag turns up in your lap.
A family that relies on the satisfactions of the logical—calculus, physics, chemistry—finds itself haunted by ghosts.
Good books are frequently credited with being worth reading twice. But when was the last time anyone had time for that?
Across generations, when children can’t find their comfort objects—usually soft toys like blankets or favorite stuffed animals—all hell breaks loose.
A home birth begets a crash course in DIY medical waste disposal.
When illness erases the fine line between love and obsession.
Offered an opportunity to help a father reach out to his young daughter, a writer agrees to assist. But the challenge isn’t as simple as grammar and commas.
Ever since my dad got an iPad last year, he sees it fit to multitask: Read an article, and text me about it.
Thirty years ago, two friends created a vision of the future—a space opera put to tape—and buried it in a time capsule. Listening again today, it turns out we remember the past as it never quite was.
A newborn wavers between life and something else. For the father, a walk in the woods elucidates the struggle between nature and nurture.