I write stuff down. writer • humorist • activist
I recently came across something I wrote a year after my dad died. It was about his own friend dying many years earlier, and I had to be the one to tell him. Discovered the story again, and it still kicks me in the gut, but maybe, I thought, it was because it was my dad, our story. So I sent it to an editor to consider for publication, and Purple
Fight or flight? I chose flight after a fight with my rather attractive pain-in-the-ass husband and flew to Cincinnati. Just for the weekend, but that’s why I left for the National Society for Newspaper Columnists writing conference. In Cincinnati. For the weekend. That, and I was an invited guest. For reals. A couple months back, I was informed I would receive some level of recognition – yet to be determined
It’s not a midlife crisis exactly, it’s more of a life crisis. Life or death. The death of a car, a lifestyle. One chapter closes, and the roof comes off. Or at least it does on a Jeep. The family car, a used Honda Pilot, was bought spur of the moment, the only requirement being it started on a regular basis, and we all fit. It had to seat as
Reminder popped up on my calendar, and I ignored it. Then another. And another. Again and again, reminding me it was that time again: time to renew my subscription to the colonoscopy club. I’ve written before about my frequent flyer membership to the let’s-not-die-of-colon-cancer club, and you may recall the love affair I have with my ass doctor. “Stop calling me that, Kathryn,” says the ass doctor. Only telemarketers and
My kids are professional sign makers. Or at least they should be. They’ve been making signs since a mass shooting in their hometown made Newtown a household name. They made signs for Hartford to March for Change in February 2013, just two months after the Sandy Hook massacre, the pinnacle of creating Connecticut’s smart, safe gun legislation. They made signs to stand outside National Shooting Sports Foundation, don’t let
This week has been very productive for banging the keyboard. Not pay wise, but advocacy wise. Does it make a difference? I like to think so, and doing nothing is not an option. Everybody’s a writer, but not everyone writes what others want to read, you know, on the beach. Or a long flight. Or waiting in line at parent pick-up. This week, for example, I put pen to paper,
I got an email from an old neighbor from some 20 years ago. Twenty. Way back when I was the young mom in Bath Ohio, had three kids under three feet tall, pregnant with the fourth, and desperate for a good babysitter and her daughter came to our rescue. Back in 1999, Columbine happened and I sat, pregnant, crying, staring at the tv, wondering how in the world a kid could
I don’t have a scale in our house. Maybe it’s because we raised 3 and a half daughters and all the emphasis on weight and numbers for girls is soul crushing and I decided long ago I wasn’t gonna have any part of it. But then again, I don’t remember having a scale in my house growing up either. Maybe because my dad was fat – really fat – and
An irreverent storyteller with a foul mouth and big heart, Kathryn Mayer (also known by Kathy and Kate), is a writer, humorist, and activist writing out loud with humor and grace about the little moments of life with big ripples, including parenting, social issues, midlife, and, sigh, gun violence prevention. Sometimes a big deal, sometimes not Mayer is national award-winning columnist, according to the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, receiving 2nd place in 2018 for humor writing. Her essays won Voice of the Year … Read More Here...
kate@kathrynmayer.com
xo Kate