Kelly Salasin

Category: on Self

  • 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…

  • Young at Heart (Never Grow Up!)

    I remember the exact moment that I became a grownup.  It was on a playground in a suburb outside Philadelphia, and I was only twenty-one years old.   A six-year old, named Danny Goldstein, was to blame. I’d spent the better part of my youth avoiding “growing up” because I knew that I didn’t want any…