Thoughts, experiences and adventures from a resident of DelSo aka Delaware Avenue South in Albany, N.Y.
Yesterday was my youngest son’s 21st birthday, a milestone that came with no small sense of satisfaction. Parenting this kid, the family baby, had not been without its challenges. There had been numerous early miscarriages, (something I’ll forever attribute to the aggressively high radioactive iodine dose I received and my managed state of hyperthyroidism), before … Continue reading QPL XXI
My Uncle Eamon’s kitchen, Broomall, PA, Fall 1989 The first time I met my Aunt Rosita was at a family wedding. This event marked the second time in my life that I shared space with a relative other than my mother and brother. I had been collected from the airport by Uncle Eamon and Uncle … Continue reading Saying goodbye to a generation
…that the country where I live is so selfish that far too many people care for no one beyond themselves. …that far too few people in the country where I live are aware of the Sumud Flotilla and it’s attempt to deliver critical aid to Palestine. …that the government of Israel is run by a … Continue reading I’m sorry…
Earlier this month one of my father’s last remaining siblings died at the fine age of 92. My aunt was one of 5 daughters, along with 9 sons, born to Conan and Mary McMenamin over a span of 23 years. Yes, my grandmother really was pregnant for the better part of a quarter century. Moms … Continue reading The last of 14
A lot has changed since I first began traveling to Europe. I’ve gone from having the heaviest piece of luggage in our friend group of 7 to being able to successfully pack for a 4 week trip in a small carry on bag. No longer do I have to watch every franc, guilder, pound or … Continue reading Sign your name
Most people, I think, believe that restaurants are a place to spend some time and take a meal. I suppose for many this is the basic truth. For those folks, though, I feel sad because a quality experience in a restaurant is about so much more than what goes into your mouth. I’ll give you … Continue reading My Dublin home
I’ve mentioned before that I often find myself weepy when I’m in Ireland. If you know me at all, you’re aware that’s atypical of me. I’m not known to be a crier. On the occasions that I do get teary, it’s likely to be about children and animals, not songs or physical gestures. Last week, though, … Continue reading Writer’s tears
DelSo 