Jocelyn Albright Desmond

The recent death of Davidson resident and W.A. Hough High School student Jocelyn Albright Desmond has given many of us cause to reflect – about teenage life, cyber bullying and suicide. Her loss is still a painful wound for both family and friends. Today her parents, Alan and Jaletta Desmond, are sharing their thoughts and feelings in a pair of letters published below.

Jocelyn, 17, died March 15. She was a Hough High junior, active in her church and at school, where she loved track and singing. But there were things the Desmonds did not know about their daughter until after her death. They reflected on both her life and death in letters read by friends at a March 17 funeral service, within a few days of her passing. Read the full story

I’m confused. Was Oscar night about publicly celebrating the best film performances in 2011 or was it about celebrating Angelina Jolie’s leg, Cameron Diaz’s and J-Lo’s derrières, and J-Lo’s cleavage?

As I’ve mentioned before, the Academy Awards are a big night in the Desmond household. We watch hours of red carpet coverage because we know it’s not just about the movies but also about the gowns, stilettos, and jewels. But when did non-nominated celebrities who should be only side dishes to the evening decide, “It’s all about me!”? Read the full story

They were just typical guys: several were fishermen, possibly two tax collectors, and maybe a political activist or two. They weren’t part of the intellectual elite or the chamber of commerce.

So, it makes it easy to relate to the Disciples of Christ. They were so … normal. In fact, sometimes they seemed less like normal adults and more like normal children. Like when they squabbled about who was greatest among them or they vied for a seat next to Jesus. They sound like 7-year-olds at a party, pushing each other around to sit next to the birthday boy or birthday girl. Read the full story

I was taking the dog for a walk just as the school day ended at the local high school. I noticed the small coupe drive by after it passed me and was pulling away in the distance. The boy in the passenger seat had his hand dangling out of the window.
“Great,” I sneered to myself. “High school boy … smoking.”

My dog stopped suddenly to sniff and look around in the air, at something invisible to me. I noticed something floating in the breeze. At first it looked like the blooms that fly off trees in the spring. ‘That doesn’t make sense this time of year,’ I thought. I looked again.

Bubbles. Dozens of bubbles were bouncing on the wind. Read the full story

“It’s just the luck of the draw,” the Guest Pronouncer told the contestants at the beginning of the regional Spelling Bee last year, explaining that he doesn’t select words for the spellers. Shortly after, her luck ran out in the second round and Speller No. 4 was given the word “tangential.”

A small smile grew slowly across her face which I knew to mean, ‘Uh oh.’

“Tangential?” she asked. Read the full story

It wasn’t part of my parenting lesson plan that day, but I had the opportunity recently to model anger and anger management.

After several months with our house on the market, our family is well-trained to prepare our home for showings to potential buyers. My girls know to empty all the trashcans, put toilet seat lids down, clean the sinks, turn on lights, and clear clutter, clear clutter, clear clutter. I still have to trail behind them to finish the details, but they do pretty well. Read the full story

“Love you,” I said as I hung up the phone.

I don’t usually say that to anyone but family members. In this case, it was a dear friend who had recently lost her mother. But I realized that it is unusual for me to verbally express my deep affection for people, except when we share genes or a last name.

I do say or write those words to a few friends I’ve had for a long, long time. And I have newer friends for whom I feel great affection. But it’s unusual for me to actually tell friends those three little words — or the more casual two, “Love you.”

Read the full story

I majored in communications in college, worked in municipal public relations in California, was a broadcast journalist for eight years, and a weekly columnist for another 10 years.

Despite all that communicating, I’m still learning how inept I can be at it. Especially with my teenage daughter.

You’d think by now I might be pretty good at basic communication — the exchange of thoughts, messages, and information. However, I have much to learn about how to approach the adolescent mind, when to talk, when to listen … and when to run out of the room. Kidding. Sort of. Read the full story