Last night I went out for pizza at UNION, a fantastic restaurant in my town of Evanston, Illinois. It’s known for bringing the community together.
There was an outdoor concert in full swing nearby, so finding a seat in the beer garden was pretty hard to do.
A woman apparently noticed me scanning the seat-yourself tables, then generously invited my date and me to join hers.
“We have room for you over there,” she said, pointing toward her husband.
How very much like an Evanstonian, I thought.
We joined them, though it turned out to be one of the most…
My father’s 76th birthday would have been June 29, 2021, but we didn’t celebrate it.
He passed away of esophageal cancer in 2010, more than 10 years ago. And if that’s all you knew, you’d be right to assume that the day might have been one filled with wistful remembrances for the father I no longer have. Oh, but there’s so much more to our story.
Like many, I grew up in a family whose dynamics were complicated and often messy — as did my father. Like many, I grew up with an alcoholic parent — as did my father…
As a writing and memoir coach, I regularly receive inquiries from writers of all levels of experience.
I’m one recent inquiry, the writer mentioned some of my attempts as a white woman to write about race and racism — something I’m trying to do more and more.
(Two of my pieces on race are here on this platform: “I Had Dinner with a Racist Last Night. This Is How It Went” and “4 Reasons You Need To Write About the Racism You See”. …
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Author, enterprise journalist, writing coach, literary citizen, overcomer of unspeakable odds.
Hey there. Nice to meet you!
I’m Christine Wolf, and here’s a little bit about me:
Two months ago, while driving on the highway, I spied an SUV five cars ahead, weaving erratically through the moderately heavy traffic. Immediately, I sensed the vehicle would crash. Ten minutes later, right in front of us, it did.
And it was in these minutes of hypervigilance — driving 75 miles-per-hour while anticipating (then finally witnessing) catastrophe — that I drew upon skills and tools I’ve learned — Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR). …
We both know you want to do this, but you’re just not sure how to begin. Don’t worry. I’ve got you. And the best news is, you’re about to scroll through everything you need to know in the next 4 minutes.
I’m about to start training for my 4th Chicago Marathon. It’s scheduled for October 10th. I’m walking the marathon, not running. Below, I’ve included my complete training plan — including weekly mileage goals, a pacing chart, and more. …
In September of 2020, six months into the pandemic, my newly-launched writing co-op was still closed to clients, and my head hurt trying to comprehend the flood of mixed messaging about COVID-19.
And so, I signed up for a month-long contact tracing class at a local community college. The 30-hour course, offered through a program approved for funding by the Workforce Innovation Opportunity Act (WIOA), cost me $279. I figured I’d gain some insight into the science of the outbreak, not to mention some much-needed connection, albeit electronic, to other human beings. …
The two men were shot dead one week ago, on Friday, March 12th, 2021. Jose Francisco Sanchez Guerrero, 21, and Demarcus Anthony Cokley, 20, died by what police have ruled a double homicide in front of their family member’s home. An 18-year-old male, also at the scene, suffered non-life-threatening gunshot injuries.
It happened in the 1800 block of Hovland Court in Evanston, Illinois, on a leafy street where students from the nearby high school often park their cars. The time was 11:46 a.m., and the sun on that that 54-degree day was shining.
According to the Chicago Sun-Times, after an…
If you’re struggling right now, I’m sorry, and I’d like to help. I’ve struggled, too, and know how dark life can sometimes feel.
My father was an alcoholic.
In the 1970s, my parents divorced.
In high school, I was sexually assaulted.
In 1993, I survived a fatal Amtrak crash.
In 1995 I lost my job.
In 2010, my father died.
In 2017, I divorced.
In 2018, my sister died. That same year, my car was stolen.
In 2019, I spent 10 days, including Christmas, in the hospital.
And in 2020, during a pandemic, I underwent major surgery.
Trust me, there’s…