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Tag Archives: aging
When I set the table for that woman in the mirror, she wasn’t the guest of honor. She was (gulp) somebody’s mother. My husband and I recently watched the 1965 classic Spencer Tracy/Katharine Hepburn/Sidney Poitier classic Guess Who’s Coming to … Continue reading
She pulled a shiny quarter from the patch pocket of her housecoat and laid it on the table, heads up. In my favorite voice, the one saved for confectionary collusion, she arched her brows in high triangles and smiled so wide I could see two of her three missing teeth, a wizened imitation of our endeavor.
“It’s Jack-O-Lantern time, Buddy.”
There’s a small-print-short-blurb in this week’s New Yorker about a middle aged artist I never heard of, some guy celebrating a retrospective in a swank gallery in the West Village.
As a person with a creative temperament, it’s disappointing to see someone celebrating a retro while I still seek a spective. Continue reading
July Fourth marks the 70th anniversary of Lou Gehrig’s famous ballpark farewell. I wrote this a few years back when our neighbor AnnaBeth was dying of ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease). Neighbors For decades, it was that shade of institutional green … Continue reading
It’s not exactly obvious.
I’ve been nurturing a psychic hairball for years. It rolls around my gut telling me that time is running out, and it may be too late to pursue my dreams. Instead of actually hucking up curdled delusions, I pass my tongue over old wounds and pull at my cuticles when I think no one is looking.