Amy Hill Hearth

Back in 1991 when I was a newspaper reporter and met the then-unknown Delany Sisters, the 100 and 102 year old pair of sisters insisted on being described first and foremost as American.

Yes, they were Black. Yes, they were women. And proud of it.

But “American” came first.

The same held true after my newspaper story  Read More 

When I was twelve my family moved from a rural area outside of Columbia, South Carolina to Scarsdale, New York, the famed suburb of New York City. Overnight, I went from being a confident Carolina tomboy with plenty of friends to “the new kid” sitting alone, day after day, in the lunchroom. I was  Read More 

I blame my sentimental side on my Dad’s Scottish ancestors. After all, it was a Scot – the legendary writer Robert Burns – who wrote the poem, “Auld Lang Syne,” first published in 1787 and arguably the most sentimental words ever put on paper.

Auld Lang Syne means “Old Long Ago” in an ancient Scottish dialect.  Read More 

I sometimes envy the way people celebrated Christmas in days gone by. The Delany Sisters, born in 1889 and 1891, often told me about being thrilled to find an orange in their Christmas stockings – an orange being a treat.

My mom recalls the Depression when some years there weren’t Christmas celebrations at all. One year  Read More 

His name was Bob. He lost an eye in Vietnam, and so much more.

He lost his youth and his dreams for the future. Worst of all, he lost hope.

I want to tell you a little about Bob as we honor our nation’s veterans this week.

I didn’t meet Bob until recently, near the end of his life. My husband knew Bob through his work. Then one day in early 2012, Bob seemed to vanish. Bob was known all around his town, a recognizable figure always on a bicycle. He spent a considerable amount of time at the library. He had lived with his mother and been fairly stable until she grew old and died. Everyone knew the one-eyed Vietnam veteran who suffered from post-traumatic stress syndrome. But no one had seen him recently. Read More