Food, as in egg coloring, for thought:

Growing up, I believed with all my heart about all things magical. Jolly Ole St. Nick, the itty bitsy fairy that traversed time and space with a single tooth twice its size, mischievous leprechauns and a super cute Cupid, plump with his very own bow.

I’ve mentioned that I have a longstanding love/hate relationship with Facebook. You could even call it a “codependency.” I know those are unhealthy, but every time I try to break things off – or tiptoe out of the entanglement quietly – people start messaging to inquire about my health . . . or just to say they miss me. And then I remember why I fell for the big jerk in the first place.

Hospice chaplain Kerry Egan listens to stories at work everyday. Now she's telling them, too – along with her own – in her book 'On Living.' She says the dying have a lot to teach us.

By Margaret Evans, Editor  


I’m on the phone with Kerry Egan for two solid hours. That’s a half hour longer than Terry Gross kept her on the line for their “Fresh Air” interview on NPR. Pretty nervy of me, huh? Terry Gross is a hero of Kerry’s. I’m just some stranger from Beaufort.

But I’ve spent the last few days reading Kerry’s luminous memoir On Living (Riverhead Books), so she’s no stranger to me. And from the uproarious laughter, to the “me, too!” moments, to the overlapping outbursts of confession, our conversation feels more like a reunion with an old friend – one who knows all your secrets and loves you anyway. My guess is that most people feel that way about Kerry Egan.