Watsontown, PA

“How’d you find Watsontown?” asked one of my 111 high school classmates after Stoic and I ended up there as we drove home from Niagara Falls last month. She, incidentally, is among the handful of us who didn’t stay there after graduation. Well, as a vaudeville comic might say, with great difficulty. I think because… Continue reading Watsontown, PA

Mother’s Day — it’s complicated

The cliché is that psychiatrists’ patients talk about how much they hate their mothers. In fact, my shrink met my mother once and never stopped talking about how much he disliked her! I’ve always given her points for being brave enough to go with me to one of my sessions, but, in truth, felt validated… Continue reading Mother’s Day — it’s complicated

My year as an only child

My only sibling died a year ago today, just as summer 2016 premiered.  I guess, officially, I was also an only child in the 21 months before her birth, but I’m assuming I enjoyed that. This, not so much. I miss her. No one else walks this world who knows what it was like in… Continue reading My year as an only child

Longing and weight gain; best purple cabbage ever

Years ago my best friend in the newsroom, the sunniest person I’ve ever known besides our younger grandson, asked if I’d ever been sad for something I’d never had. It’s taken me more than 40 years to figure out that’s all I was! Not knowing, of course, meant I was always trying to fill that hole… Continue reading Longing and weight gain; best purple cabbage ever

We are each other’s memories, home-court habits

“We are each other’s memories,” said my beautiful, silver-haired friend yesterday morning at book club, and with that remark, she grounded me in my world in a way I’ve never before felt. Until I went to college at 17, my mother, sister and I were kept isolated in a very rural setting by my control-freak… Continue reading We are each other’s memories, home-court habits

Guilt and lamb

Amazing how one sentence can bring someone back from the dead and slap you up’side the haid. My mother’s been dead for 18 years, and yet when I found an old letter of hers this morning, boom! This letter’s at least 20 years old, maybe more. She’s talking about a much disliked sister-in-law’s back surgery… Continue reading Guilt and lamb

70 is the new awesome

Tomorrow morning, to paraphrase Anne Lamott’s birthday column opener, I’m going to wake up 70 years old (9 years older than she). I am delighted that 1) I will most likely wake up; and 2) I will be at least 30 pounds lighter than on my 69th birthday. I’ve worked really hard on this; in fact, for… Continue reading 70 is the new awesome