Kelly Salasin

Category: Father-Daughter

  • Confessions of a Doctor’s Daughter

    When I was a kid, even a broken bone didn’t  warrant my physician father’s attention. And bleeding gashes requiring stitches were simply attended to in the kitchen.  All other complaints (obviously not requiring surgery) were highly suspect– with reponses like “hypochondriac” or “psychosomatic” or “let’s cut it off.” Thus, it wasn’t until my late thirties…

  • SLEEP!

    Kelly Salasin “Look at Kelly Ann’s eyes, aren’t they beautiful!” my father exclaimed after the nap I didn’t want to take.  “Show your mommy. Show your grandfather,” he continued, working the whole nap thing on my tender psyche. I was confused and pleased and annoyed all at the same time, but 40 years later, I…