Jennifer Sharpe

A little more than three years ago, I left Oklahoma. I said goodbye to my house, loaded my car, and made my way east, relocating my two kids to the town where I grew up.

“Did you see the video?” My son texted me out of the blue on Wednesday afternoon. “Charlie Kirk was shot in Utah about 20 minutes ago.”

Sharpe: Winning the battle of the discount shopping club

The High Line in NYC transforms an old railroad into a lush elevated park, symbolizing renewal and repurposing in urban spaces and life.

One of my favorite summer weather phenomena is an unexpected break from the oppressive heat.

Did you celebrate National Ice Cream Day on July 20? If you missed it, don’t worry — there’s still time. The entire month of July is National Ice Cream Month.

Our season together ended on July 3 after four days of exhausting, emotional tournament play.

I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but I know when I first noticed the pain. It was about 27 years ago, after a volleyball match against the University of Pennsylvania, in their gym.

Four years ago, Juneteenth became a federal holiday. At the time, I didn’t get it — I’m embarrassed now to admit.

My daughter had her last day of tenth grade classes last week, and she’s got just three final exams left before she finishes the school year.