In February, my family flew to California to visit my in-laws in the San Francisco area. It poured constantly for days, and our California family was visibly relieved for rain. Three years of drought were weighing heavily in our conversations.
Hello. My name is Olivia O’Toole, and I’m taking over my mom’s (Kelly O’Toole) column this month because I think what I have to say might interest you. This is all about love the way I, a 12-year-old, see it.
Last Friday evening, just before dark, my wife Amy and I were sitting in the kitchen discussing our day. I'd just popped the top on my second beer when the lights flickered once, twice — then went out completely.