As spring turned into summer, they slowly eased into a routine that seemed to work for both of them. Stub continued to have two-a-day practices and attended classes during the week while Gloria began to gain confidence running the household. They discussed finances and agreed that, just as Stub’s and Gloria’s mothers managed their own…

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I was saddened to hear of the passing of University of Oregon legend Bob Sanders last week. According to his daughter, Molly Sanders, he may be the last member of the fabled ’48 Ducks’ football team. He was a teammate of my dad, Norm Van Brocklin, and played in the Cotton Bowl on January 1,…

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As I approach the goal line of the editing processes of my latest book, The Dutchman and Portland’s Finest Rose, I find myself surrounded by a flood of memories.  Seventy-one years ago this fall, my father, Norm Van Brocklin, found himself caught up in the euphoria that was the magical football season of 1948. And even…

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Happy Father’s Day to Daddy One-One! My mother told me she would take me to see my father play football in the Coliseum in Los Angeles when I was a little girl. And when I would see him on the field I would get excited, point at him, and say, “Daddy One-One!”  As I sit…

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Mom, I can think of no greater gift to give you today, wherever you may be in this vast universe, than my latest book. It’s dedicated to both you and Dad, and it’s titled, The Dutchman and Portland’s Finest Rose, A Love Story Inspired by the Life of Football Legend Norm Van Brocklin. This journey has taken…

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It’s Mother’s Day, and I’m sitting in the airport in Philadelphia by myself. It’s raining , and my flight back home to Atlanta has been delayed. Oddly, I’m not upset. I’ve heard from each of my three children who have wished me a Happy Mother’s Day, I’ve spoken to all eight of my Grands, and…

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This morning as I was sitting down at my writing table I bought last year in honor of my mother on Mother’s Day, I gazed at the assortment of old photographs inspiring me to commence this new project. I feel as if I’m surrounded by clues, begging me—sometimes taunting me—to weave the pieces of my…

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May is a special time in Atlanta. The air is heavy with the sweet scent of honeysuckle, jasmine, and magnolia.  Gardens are full of color as tulips and daffodils emerge from their wintry pine beds, and the cheerful sounds of nature greet the sunrise. Mothers are honored, and I celebrate two of my four granddaughter’s…

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A little over a year ago I promised my dog, Obsidian Rose, Siddie for short, I would pack up the family car with her riding shotgun and head west to Bend, Oregon. I wanted to show her the new home I was building and see firsthand if she would like this new environment as much…

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