Catherine Gigante-Brown

Food can be more than nourishing; it can be healing.

I sat obediently in her chair atop four ancient copies of the Yellow Pages. Crossing my fingers, I prayed Catholic schoolgirl prayers.

If the odds of getting cancer are like Powerball, why couldn't I be a scratch-off millionaire?

After I got over the initial devastation, I pulled myself up by my big-girl panties and got on with it. Chemo was no picnic—but it was do-able.

The hell with his elaborate metaphors and rhetorical phrases. Iambic pentameter is cruel and unusual punishment.

I fumbled with my lace bra, hoping my silicone form wouldn't fall out from the left cup. I wasn't exactly ready . . . yet I was.

I realized my father was from a generation that never said those three little words. He was saying he loved me without them. But I didn't realize it then.

I’m a firm believer that Tiny Kindnesses can change the world, one sweet, loving gesture at a time.

When David was about 12, he told me that he wanted to take the train to school alone. My gut reaction was, “No way in hell!” I mean, we live in a safe neighborhood and all, but David has ADHD and was easily distracted. What if he missed his stop? What if someone messed with him?

The santero sent us off with a shopping list of ite