Suprise Me

I am a relic of a by-gone era. I believe handwritten thank you notes should still be written in response to gifts (except from immediate family members, when a verbal thank you will suffice). As you see, I still have monogrammed stationery (the Featured photo) for writing such notes (as well as condolence notes). It… Read More

I had hair; my grandfather didn't. So it was only fair to let him wear the mortarboard. Read More

I confess to hitchhiking once. I don’t think my parents ever knew. Read More

Odessa When I was growing up my parents had a housekeeper named Odessa.   She was a tall and stately-looking Black woman,  and I adored her. In the mornings before my mother left for work Odessa arrived,  made sure I finished my breakfast,  and walked me the few blocks to school.  And at 3:00 she’d be… Read More

The Parents Group When our son was born in New York Hospital I was asked if we’d like to attend The First Year of Life,  a series of quarterly lectures by Lee Salk,  the renown child psychologist.  Of course we signed up and over the following year we attended four wonderful lectures held in a… Read More

I am an inveterate romantic. Dan teases that I weep at Hallmark commercials. He’s not wrong. I am sentimental. I save everything. I have a dried sprig of flowers from my wedding bouquet, pressed into my Bride’s Book. I have a long memory, for good and bad. Dan can make grand gestures when he chooses… Read More

When I was about 10 years old a friend, Dougie, the neighborhood troublemaker, dared me to smoke a cigarette. Read More

He must have noticed that the word “kidnapping” shocked us. He took the time to give us the word-for-word definition from the California Criminal Code: “Moving another person a substantial distance, without the person's consent, by means of force or fear.” Read More

Mother died three days before her 97th birthday. I described my relationship with her, and her last six days of life in much detail in What I Didn’t Tell You Then. I knew the people at the funeral home in Detroit quite well. The owner, Herb Kaufman, lived around the corner from us in Huntington Woods.… Read More

Calling it a garden gives it (or me) far more credit than is due. Rather, we have a few spots bordering a swimming pool where my lazy inner farmer takes over.  When we moved into the house in 1992, the eastern edge of the back yard had overgrown rose bushes that hadn’t been pruned for… Read More