Ode to Kid Thinker

“What’s that red button do?” you ask me, tugging on my arm and pointing carefully. We’re standing in front of a vintage race car, a powerful, striped beast posing silently for viewing by the quiet masses wandering through the…
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Four Feet at a Fork in the Road

My daughter stood, firmly planted in her exasperation on the side of the road that bright October day, refusing to move and begging me to listen. “Mom!”  she pleaded, “Come here and just LOOK.  Seriously.  MOM.  Listen to me.” Nononono,…
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On Sibling Bonds, and Remembering Jane

It’s a funny thing about sisters and brothers. You might long for them if you don’t have any.  But if you do, nothing in your life will ever drive you nuts in quite the same fashion.  That is, if you are like most of humanity. Ours…
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Off to School: Ready, or Not?

In photos passed around at the office or posted proudly on Facebook, in conversations remote or at the coffee machine, whether about emerging kindergartners or newly liberated college freshers, the off-to-school transition has a universal…
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The View from the Next Booth

It’s a routine Sunday morning at my favorite neighborhood restaurant, the best place for breakfast in our part of town—that is, it’s best if you prefer to place your order while sitting at a table, to a seasoned grown-up who will bring…
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Things I Remembered on My Summer Vacation

It’s time to get back into harness after a perfectly delightful summer break, which included plenty of fun in the sun, some intriguing backroads exploration, and a restorative helping of lengthy naps.  There was lots of quality time with…
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The Journey Ahead: Continued

An age-old instinct was triggered the other day, when I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, felled by a nasty stomach virus and trapped at home, recovering but still weak and irritable. I wanted my Mom. A little old for that, aren’t…
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Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer

The Scene:  Spring dance recital. The Location:  A clean, bright church in the heart of downtown. The Players:  Scores of dance students in assorted matching ensembles, ranging from restless, over-stimulated three-year-olds in tremulous…
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The Cruel and Beautiful Tricks of Time

I like to think I became a grandparent at a fairly young age (don’t we all?).  Let's don't dwell on whether that is a delusion.  Just believe me when I say that life can sometimes look very similar to the way it rolled before the age…
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