the beauty of an ordinary life
In the end, this is a kind of Mother’s Day story. But it starts this way: When he was 16-going-on-17 my friend David, the atheist, ornithologist, environmentalist, and retired Fedex pilot, hitch-hiked from his Hudson River home to the Gaspé, where he spent the first of many summers watching birds. It was 1956, year of…
So here’s something you might have noticed: the characters in those delicious coming-of-age stories, the one that are always all the rage? They’re never a day past 25 (if that). The over-30-and-40-something people? They’ve already come of age. They’re full-grown, and their angst-of-now stories are called mid-life crises. Our stories, I mean, not theirs. Mine,…
