by Leisa A. Hammett | Apr 4, 2010 | Divorce, Grief & Loss, Midlife and Beyond
Photo: fataetoile It's a dream…isn't it? Growing up, Easter meant stuffy and grandiose hallelujah choruses at the Baptist church, passionate sermons by red-faced preachers, ham feasts, overstuffed pastel-colored baskets, gleeful hunts for...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Mar 22, 2010 | All The Rest of Life, Art, Autism/Disability, Divorce, Grief & Loss, H2H, Our Book, Midlife and Beyond, Motherhood, Spirituality
Goodbye 2009. That's right. Long-time Goodbye. It's the end of the third month of of the second decade of the new millennium, but I'm still saying Goodbye to the last. And that's because I'm Packing. Packing to leave this place. When I took this...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Mar 8, 2010 | Art, Autism/Disability, Divorce, Grief & Loss, Nature, Spirituality
After she had opened the bounty of gifts we other mothers of children with autism had bought for her to re-establish her home–destroyed by Hurricane Katrina–Joyce wiped her tears and shared that she never understood those people on television…The...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Feb 10, 2010 | Autism/Disability, Grief & Loss, Motherhood
Book cover, Thinking in Pictures. In my opinion, Temple's best book. Last Saturday, HBO memorialized the world's most famous person living with autism on the collective psyches of mainstream media-loving America. My review of the movie, here. For this...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Feb 3, 2010 | Art, Autism/Disability, Grief & Loss, Motherhood
Whenever autism is portrayed in the popular media, seasoned parent advocates become leery, skeptical. After 13 years on the journey, I've learned repeatedly that in the end, It's All Good. No matter how inaccurate, offensive or off-the-mark the coverage, it...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Feb 1, 2010 | All The Rest of Life, Art, Grief & Loss, Spirituality
Photo: Leisa A. HammettA long, mind-fitful meditation ended. Slowly opening my eyes, I studied the familiar room. My great room. Still. Quiet. Golden in the light coming through a set of opened shades. I rose to open the rest of them and I questioned: Why do I feel...
