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 … Continue reading 16
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, … Continue reading Riding through the crazies.
