We had done our best to successfully navigate from home to the train station to the hotel and, finally, the venue where we had been requested to arrive 90 minutes before showtime in order to secure our phones and other electronics. Something which was just not happening. Miraculously, we managed to get The Beacon Theater … Continue reading It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s a rock star – Bono at the Beacon.
Category: aging
Grave.Tender.
When I visit Ireland, I go with a wish list of things I hope to do. These days, most of my activities involve seeing family, particularly my late father’s remaining siblings. I’ve learned, however, that getting together isn’t always possible - and to not take it personally or as a rejection. We’ve all got busy … Continue reading Grave.Tender.
Knitted together
One of the first things I ever wrote was about my mom and the sweaters she knit. In case you don’t know, my mother has always been remarkably talented when it came to needlework, be it sewing, knitting, crocheting or embroidery. In the piece I wrote, I imagined what her thoughts might have been as … Continue reading Knitted together
Palm Springs, home no more
The first time I went to Palm Springs, I was 18. I’d never flown before (other than a reputed flight to Arkansas to visit a godmother I have zero contact with, when I was an infant) and the experience was eye opening. The desert amazed me and I, in a most unexpected way, immediately fell … Continue reading Palm Springs, home no more
Sometimes you get what you kneed
I don’t think it would be possible to accurately state which injury came first since mine has been a gradual eroding, while my son’s was a more dramatic one off. The outcome, though, is the same - we’re both having knee surgery next month. Do you think OrthoNY offers a two-fer special? It was a … Continue reading Sometimes you get what you kneed
Missing
The feeling of having a child you actually birthed nestled in your arms, asleep and lightly drooling. If time travel were an option, I’d like to have that sensation again - with each of my boys. My Christmas ornament which had been a gift from my kindergarten teacher. It was glass, originally red, with my name correctly spelled in … Continue reading Missing
A cry in the dark
It happened again. For the second time in a few short months, I found myself crying in a yoga studio. Unlike that other time, though, I didn’t see the tears coming and I can’t pinpoint exactly what it was that caused me to cry. If I were forced to point the finger of blame, I’d … Continue reading A cry in the dark






