A neighbor stoops to pet my dog (our dog, the littlest of our three), greeting him by name. It is a cool, but not chilly, late fall afternoon, children playing in their yards, lights beginning to turn on behind windows, streets laced with dog walkers out for a pre-dinner stroll. One of the children, a … Continue reading Many happy returns.
I learned to drive in the fall of 1980, when the future tasted like a raindrop on the tip of my tongue. It was after the summer we moved from my growing-up house into one that, in my mother's words, didn't have room for my father. It was the year we packed up books, clothes, … Continue reading Independence day
Dear friends at Frye, A long time ago, around the time my first child was born, I adopted a simple, highly efficient approach to footwear: sandals from April 1 to September 30; boots from October 1 to March 31. I am a sensible, practical, predictable sort of woman in this way. Boots being a staple … Continue reading An open letter to The Frye Company.
From the moment we master basic locomotive skills, we humans begin to pursue our independence and separate from our parents. It is as natural and ordinary and miraculous a process as any other in the animal kingdom - which is not to say that it is easy, for either child or parent. No matter how … Continue reading Letters from camp.
What began with The Shining, released on Memorial Day weekend, ended, a week after Labor Day, with Ordinary People. In between were Caddyshack, The Blue Lagoon, Airplane!, Brubaker, Urban Cowboy and He Knows You're Alone. It was the summer of Luke and Laura, of Funkytown, Magic and Sailing. The United States led a 65-country boycott … Continue reading Summer 1980.
Here is something awesome: there are people in my life who love me despite the fact that they know incredibly embarrassing things about me, like this thing I'm about to tell you. When I was in sixth grade, I wanted to change my name, legally, to Jamie Sommers. I even asked my mother how much … Continue reading Better, stronger, faster.
Opals were meant to be worn only by those for whom opal was their birthstone, that's what my mother said. But I loved opals, loved their mystery, their hologram-like coloring. So I used my babysitting money to buy an opal ring from Lowell Hays Jewelers. It was a dainty ring, the setting bright, yellow gold, … Continue reading The iridescent shimmer of 12.
How did I know it was safe to park in the yard, away from the street, far up the driveway, by the boat and trucks on cinder blocks, by the workshop where the country music was playing, and down the path from the small country house? This is one of three things she wants to … Continue reading Her three questions, today.
