Caring for my orchid is a lot like caring for myself.

by Edmund Dyer-Essig

In the arena, we could all understand one another.

by Rachel Kolb

Through my daughter, my own roots are growing.

by Jill Patton

Maybe I was going about this hero thing all wrong.

by Chloe Shannon Wong

The landlord was delighted to hear from us—until we met her in person.

by John Howard

I’ve found a little Stanford in Big Sky Country.

by Emma Trotter

A scientist and a cosmic cabbie land on common ground.

by Sarah Gibson

Mark no longer recognizes me, but the bond between us is unbreakable.

by Stan Wilson

When I was a senior, I took Sand Hill Road all the way home to Missouri.

by Anne Sutton Canfield

How I learned to swim in the Stanford pond.

by Lisa Ing