Death is not a subject we talk about much in our society, and it's especially hard to broach the subject of suicide with someone who has lost a loved one, but Charlottesville writer, editor and publisher Anne Carley has some advice in this essay.
When I was eighteen, my cousin Umberto visited us from Italy. I sat in the passenger seat of Umberto’s rental car as he sped through a red light at a busy intersection in Hartford, Connecticut. I shrieked, “Stop. Stop. You’ve got to stop!”
Umberto smiled. “In Italy, red light is optional.”
Umberto wasn’t kidding. When my husband and I visited Tuscany last fall, we discovered that some Italians considered all rules of the road optional.
I could hear Tony tearing up the trail from Squirrel Creek toward our campsite in the middle of a blueberry patch in remote Avery County, North Carolina. All the forest creatures could hear him, too.
Tony was anything but subtle when he’d caught a fish and he wanted every thrush, every gray squirrel, every white-tail deer, every groundhog and—most of all—me to know he’d hooked a penny-bright, native, feisty rainbow trout.
If you listen to our programs on a regular basis, you know Gerry Krueger – the Albemarle County resident who has spent much of her life watching and writing about the geese on a pond near her home, including one disabled bird named Charlie.
She also taught school and tutored children with special needs, like Sean, who lived with his deaf mother and struggled to speak, read and write.
Today, she’s retired from teaching but has not stopped writing about the birds and about Sean.