A Christmas Mac Attack
It was the day after Christmas, and in the kitchen I was savoring my supper of left-over beef tenderloin, absorbed in a book. A bit at a time, a noise intruded on my peace and quiet: paper being...
View ArticleBright Eyes
Whenever Breeze and Brad and I take a walk, strangers who pass us on the sidewalk ask how old our “puppy” is. As the years go by, we smile, happy to be able to answer that on February 14th, she will...
View ArticleNothing Risked, Nothing Gained
How obvious to observe that the writer’s life is solitary. I am at my desk by nine, but at five set my pen aside and shut down the computer—this is how I get words down on the page. The rhythm of the...
View ArticleSpring Fling
It’s not time for summer reading yet, but it is time for a spring fling into new books—some published a while ago, some published recently. I am making recommendations of those I loved with the hope...
View ArticleTo Pack Or To Purge
Just about four years ago, I picked up nearly thirty years’ worth of California experience and made my way back to the coast on which I was born. The West had welcomed me in 1989, just in time for a...
View ArticleLaughing Lady
Living on the water is the height of beauty: from sunsets over a river that ripples with pink and orange while we watch from the deck; to a sky streaking up with color as I lie in bed at five o’clock...
View ArticleGiving Away Mom
My mother’s name invades my writing room: the big, black, bold ANNE SEXTON jumping off the spine of Self-Portrait In Letters, a volume I edited when I was twenty-one, immediately after her suicide....
View ArticleGetting Old is Heaven
As she moved into her mid-seventies, my Nana began to say: “getting old is hell.” And when my father reached the same point, he was wont to declare: “just take me out in the backyard and shoot me.”...
View ArticleFriendship: From Oysters to Osprey
When my best friend from Annapolis moved to Vermont to be near her sister and start a new life, I understood. Hadn’t I done just the same thing five years before when I transplanted myself from...
View ArticleMy Boy, Alexander
Where are the words? I wonder. Where are the words? My throat is parched and my tongue lies like a slug in my mouth. My fingers are thick and clumsy on the keyboard. I am only writing replies to...
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