Catherine Gigante-Brown

My husband and I agreed: raising a child with an independent spirit who made decisions for himself was a good thing.

To the tattoo artist, I was a flesh canvas that she could transform into something beautiful.

I saw my present mother-in-law in a whole new light the first time she held my newborn son.

The Ultimate Counter Culture Diva

BCBs are loud and proud and refuse to go down easy. And quietly. We have things to say. We have things to teach. We still have life to live. And damn it, we are and we will. With one breast. With no breasts. With reconstruction surgery.

Alas, I am the lone female in a house full of men. Only two men, but they take up a lot of space.

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.

"Sometimes David wore his hair spiked like a cockscomb. Others, he wore it feathery like a baby chick. He wore his Mohawk to summer camp (exchanging encouraging head chucks with another older camper who sported one, too) and even to Vacation Bible School—no judgment there."

Although I tried to convince myself that I wasn't racist, if the truth were told, I didn't like Muslims. Especially after 9/11.

Mindel and Maria were young teenagers when the horrors occurred—but they remembered the tiniest details with crystal-clear intensity.