Twenty years ago this week, I met my children's father. Nineteen years ago this summer, my own father drank himself to death. The two events are related in a way, though not in the way you might be thinking. Unless you are thinking that my father finally let go when he knew both of his … Continue reading Paterfamilias.
My father loved summer. He loved the heat and the sun and the holidays and everything that went with the stretch of time from May to September: fishing, swimming, gardening, parades, flags, fireworks, bathing suits and gin and tonics. Summer was suspension of the rules time, the season of freedom from convention. From Memorial Day … Continue reading Kings of summer. (food for week of 7.15.13)
Without a doubt my favorite thing about my father was his ability to laugh at himself, particularly during life's humiliating moments. His humor was never self-deprecating or diversionary; his laughter never awkward. Case in point: one year my father and step-mother hosted a very elegant Christmas morning brunch for our family and a few close … Continue reading Beautifully imperfect.