Bound to Look Good
My daughter Kristen and I recently went shopping for undergarments. As we walked into Macy’s, I asked the young woman at the perfume counter, “Where do you keep your intimates?”…
Burning Down the House: A Lesson in Generosity and Persistence
In the 1920s, my father’s parents sharecropped land they rented from wealthy landowners in Delaware. My grandmother worked as the cook in the main houses. She was short and strong.…
Finding Christmas
We weren’t prepared for missing Christmas. It was an unseasonably mild December. A wintry mix of sleet and rain started early Christmas Eve morning, turning our yard into ice-crusted soggy…
Waiting for Light
Christmas is coming! On our childhood farm, not unlike hunting season’s opening day, my mother declared the beginning of the Christmas season. It launched with housework. Nestled among over a…
Pretty Girl
I met Ashley after she moved into her new digs in Brooklyn. Our daughter, Claire, lives in the same multi-story building — three floors up a marble and wrought iron…
Palm Reader
“Give me your hand. Let me see what is in your future.” My mother was a devout Catholic. Ironically, she also loved to read palms — mystical future telling carried…
Dazed and Confused
One of the joys of living at the beach is bearing witness to the permanence of the ocean. Its continual reaching towards the shore. Its mood changes from serene to…
Tears and Tiaras
I didn’t realize that taking my high school guidance counselor’s advice would lead to one of my biggest embarrassments. In the fall of senior year, he suggested I broaden participation…
Courage At 0.5 MPH
Courage at 0.5 MPH I’m a retired physician and empty nester. Basically, a woman with degrees, hot flashes, and a deep commitment to self-deprecation. Wanting to write essays about life’s…
Finders Keepers
My childhood home was a one-story, white-shingled farmhouse nestled in the middle of corn and soybean fields. Typical of homes built in the early 1900s, it was long on charm…
Lemonade and Pearls
One long summer day, a string of fake pearls turned into a lesson on kindness. My dad was a fair, practical man, with a great sense of humor and a…
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Palm Reader
“Give me your hand. Let me see what is in your future.” My mother was a devout Catholic. Ironically, she also loved to read palms — mystical future telling carried out by interpreting the unique lines and folds of a seeker’s hand. In the last weeks of her life, I held her hand as I sat by her hospital bedside. But I didn’t read her palm. She suffered. Gut-wrenchingly. In agonizing repetition, her fever-induced, agitated plea hammered out a throbbing refrain: “Jesus, why have you abandoned me?” I had no answer. As she came in and out of consciousness, I tried various tactics to calm her restless soul. Praying for…
