Howard Horst

Mother's Day, Every Day

It was on a Sunday evening, partway through the church service, when the little girl in front of me managed to dislodge her ponytail holder. I watched as the young daddy tried, and tried, and retried to replace the uncooperative hairballs onto the braid of his patient, understanding daughter. I knew all too well the feeling of exasperation and panic that can accompany that simple, motherly task when done by a daddy’s hand, especially when he can feel an audience of eyes watching.


To some of you, this title may look as bewildering as it did to me when I was assigned this article. A change in the second letter from (o) to (u) could possibly look like a heading with a more probable slot in our English vocabulary, possibly a name in a recipe file. Sorry to say, the title of this article does not reflect anything yummy; in fact, it reflects on something distasteful to the 20th-century mind. The title takes us back to gore, blood, washings, killings, ceremonies, ritual, and affliction.

Meeting the Emotional Needs of Our Family – Part 1

Sally stuffs her hands deeper into her sweater pockets as she kicks a stone ahead of her on the way to the mail box... “Why?” she says to herself, “Why can’t dad show an interest in my life—I need someone to talk to! This youth social life is a nightmare...He does so much stuff with the boys, but me...when I want to talk is seems like his lights don’t come on.”

Subscribe to RSS - Howard Horst