I really should, at the end of this Retrospect enterprise, tell the story of meeting John and Patti. So much good has come in my life as a direct result of sitting down, in about the fourth pew from the front of the church, about three seats in from the left-hand aisle, next to a…
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I really should, at the end of this Retrospect enterprise, tell the story of meeting John and Patti. So much good has come in my life as a direct result of sitting down, in about the fourth pew from the front of the church, about three seats in from the left-hand aisle, next to a…
Read More
My mother was the secretary for her ninth grade class. They graduated in 1953 in Newton, Massachusetts. By the time she and her friends had finished three years at Bigelow, the class had been together for three years. They knew each other well, having grown up together, many of them in the same elementary school…
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This prompt brought back powerful memories of a yellow gingham skirt my mother made in the 70s. She and my father took square-dancing lessons for a while, the outfits were wild. He had western style shirts with ruffles and mother-of-pearl buttons. She made skirts and wore them with ruffled blouses. She also made very puffy…
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Today I’m thinking about all the women I have worked with. Some have been bosses, many many colleagues, and now I have two women who are my employees (heaven help them). I want to honor the women who taught me how to work: Cathy, the nurse manager at UCSF who hired me fresh out of…
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The fact that I am woman of a certain age makes it easier to understand why I never played baseball as a child. I think I would have loved playing growing up, in a sand lot, the way my husband did, but that game is way way over. Our son played Little League for many years,…
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For me, being a parent is almost indistinguishable from being a poet.
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I loved reading about the very friendly skies while the little kids were asleep.
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I almost broke my neck sometimes, standing on one leg, making sure none of the boys could see, sheesh.
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After my first husband left me, I thought I would die of the pain. I was wrong.
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Maine is hard to get to from just about anywhere. But I'll make that journey every time.
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My sister and I might not have a relationship you can write a great story about, but I bet we'd both read that book!
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I remember the fact that I wasn't chosen to give a speech at my own graduation through the lens of my mother's indignation.
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The point of all this sad history is to reflect on what happened this weekend, when my 20-year old son asked me to help him with his ballot, and I said "sure."
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Camping was fun when I was a kid. Fire was exciting and extinguished too soon.
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Faith takes the form of Easter hats, nursing uniforms, Bach and carrot soup.
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A story about a boy, his grandmother, and a boat.
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My mom loves to tell a certain set of stories about me over and over. This is one of them: on my first day of first grade I came home from school and drew a diagram of the classroom. My mother already knew I was the smartest kid in California, but this was honest to…
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I grew up in a three-story apartment building in Palo Alto, California – a rectangular concrete building that still stands at the corner of Grant Avenue and Ash Street. Today, that part of town is crammed full of chic restaurants and expensive condos, but in the 1960s and 70s it was just a little neighborhood, tucked into a…
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Grammy Brown taught me how to file my fingernails with an emery board. She made peach pie. She always smelled just a tiny bit sweet, just a tiny bit cinnamony, just a tiny bit powdery. If soft had a smell, it was Estee Lauder.
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Sensory images congealing into a poem about my Grandmother's Maine
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My father appreciated every meal my mother prepared for him as if it were the best meal he'd ever eaten.
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A Sympathetic Second Soprano
Prompted By Turning Points
/ Stories
I really should, at the end of this Retrospect enterprise, tell the story of meeting John and Patti. So much good has come in my life as a direct result of sitting down, in about the fourth pew from the front of the church, about three seats in from the left-hand aisle, next to a…
Read More
Advice From Your Class Secretary
Prompted By Graduation Advice
/ Stories
My mother was the secretary for her ninth grade class. They graduated in 1953 in Newton, Massachusetts. By the time she and her friends had finished three years at Bigelow, the class had been together for three years. They knew each other well, having grown up together, many of them in the same elementary school…
Read More
Yellow Gingham
Prompted By In My Mother's Closet
/ Stories
This prompt brought back powerful memories of a yellow gingham skirt my mother made in the 70s. She and my father took square-dancing lessons for a while, the outfits were wild. He had western style shirts with ruffles and mother-of-pearl buttons. She made skirts and wore them with ruffled blouses. She also made very puffy…
Read More
International Women’s Day
Prompted By Women's Lib
/ Stories
Today I’m thinking about all the women I have worked with. Some have been bosses, many many colleagues, and now I have two women who are my employees (heaven help them). I want to honor the women who taught me how to work: Cathy, the nurse manager at UCSF who hired me fresh out of…
Read More
A Second Baseman Woman
Prompted By Big Fan
/ Stories
The fact that I am woman of a certain age makes it easier to understand why I never played baseball as a child. I think I would have loved playing growing up, in a sand lot, the way my husband did, but that game is way way over. Our son played Little League for many years,…
Read More
Domestic Poetry
Prompted By Parenthood
/ Stories
For me, being a parent is almost indistinguishable from being a poet.
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Babysitting with Coffee, Tea, or Me?
Prompted By Working
/ Stories
I loved reading about the very friendly skies while the little kids were asleep.
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Shorts under Skirts
Prompted By Good Riddance
/ Stories
I almost broke my neck sometimes, standing on one leg, making sure none of the boys could see, sheesh.
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Sitting by the Window
Prompted By Turning Points
/ Stories
After my first husband left me, I thought I would die of the pain. I was wrong.
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A Journey to Maine
Prompted By Travel
/ Stories
Maine is hard to get to from just about anywhere. But I'll make that journey every time.
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What Do We Have in Common?
Prompted By Siblings
/ Stories
My sister and I might not have a relationship you can write a great story about, but I bet we'd both read that book!
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A Golden Friend with the Perfect GPA
Prompted By Graduation
/ Stories
Written in response to No Valediction
I remember the fact that I wasn't chosen to give a speech at my own graduation through the lens of my mother's indignation.
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Voting for Reagan, Voting for Bernie
/ Stories
The point of all this sad history is to reflect on what happened this weekend, when my 20-year old son asked me to help him with his ballot, and I said "sure."
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Fire at Huddart Park
Prompted By Vacations
/ Stories
Camping was fun when I was a kid. Fire was exciting and extinguished too soon.
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Easter & Dressing Up for Church
Prompted By Faith
/ Stories
Faith takes the form of Easter hats, nursing uniforms, Bach and carrot soup.
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John and Stella
Prompted By Grandparents & Grandchildren
/ Stories
A story about a boy, his grandmother, and a boat.
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Drawing First Grade
Prompted By First Day of School
/ Stories
My mom loves to tell a certain set of stories about me over and over. This is one of them: on my first day of first grade I came home from school and drew a diagram of the classroom. My mother already knew I was the smartest kid in California, but this was honest to…
Read More
The School Bus
Prompted By First Day of School
/ Stories
I grew up in a three-story apartment building in Palo Alto, California – a rectangular concrete building that still stands at the corner of Grant Avenue and Ash Street. Today, that part of town is crammed full of chic restaurants and expensive condos, but in the 1960s and 70s it was just a little neighborhood, tucked into a…
Read More
Estee Lauder
Prompted By Grandparents & Grandchildren
/ Stories
Grammy Brown taught me how to file my fingernails with an emery board. She made peach pie. She always smelled just a tiny bit sweet, just a tiny bit cinnamony, just a tiny bit powdery. If soft had a smell, it was Estee Lauder.
Read More
Voices from Maine
Prompted By Grandparents & Grandchildren
/ Stories
Sensory images congealing into a poem about my Grandmother's Maine
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Liver & Onions
Prompted By What We Ate
/ Stories
My father appreciated every meal my mother prepared for him as if it were the best meal he'd ever eaten.
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