Author Archives: Stephanie

About Stephanie

In her spare time, Stephanie works full-time, and then some, as an attorney. She has published articles and delivered talks in arcane fields like forensic evidentiary issues, jury instructions, and expert scientific witness preparation. She also is an adjunct professor at a law school on the banks of the Charles and loves that dirty water, as she will always think of Boston as her home. You are welcome to take a look at her Facebook author page, or follow @SMartinGlennon on Twitter. All content on this blog, unless otherwise attributed, is (c) 2012-2018 by Stephanie M. Glennon and should not be reproduced (in any form other than re-blogging in accordance with Wordpress protocol and the numerous other wee buttons at the bottom of each post) without the express permission of the domain holder.

God’s Golden Eyes

Posted on March 23, 2018

  March 22, 2018   Dear Jim, I was awake long before you would have hoped for me.  It snowed yet again, though a far less fearsome Nor’easter than this month’s past three.  This morning I was in one of … Continue reading →

Posted in Love and Loss | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Who Tells Your Story

Posted on March 13, 2018

When I travel around New England to speak at Schwartz Rounds in dozens of hospitals,  I usually mention that Jim would have told his own story far differently than I.  Although it was never his choice to leave us, I … Continue reading →

Posted in Love and Loss | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Purple Chimes and Valentines

Posted on February 17, 2018

“Sweet as” was in the glossary I picked up from fellow travelers during my recent adventure. It’s a New Zealand term of assurance: all is well, “no worries” (a phrase that now hits my ear as  well-meaning  but oxymoronic, a double-negative … Continue reading →

Posted in Love and Loss | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

The Dunes Abide

Posted on February 9, 2018

  A limitless tapestry of rich red-gold sand is dappled by hoof prints roughly the size and shape of swaddled footballs.  With each tread, a spray of pure gold rises, hovers, and enfolds itself back into dunes. My elaborately wound … Continue reading →

Posted in Back in the Real World, Love and Loss | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments