I was born bald. My brother called me Boop-de-Boy because he thought I was a boy, but of course, I wasn’t. By my first birthday I had some fuzz. My mother always styled my hair into a Dutch Boy cut. I always wanted it long. Here is my third birthday. Mother ruled. By the age… Read More

I shouldn’t be surprised that I now have such problematic arthritis in my toes that I’ve needed two surgeries in six years. It began when I was a child. My chiropodist had me wear arch supports in my shoes and walk up and down the hallway of my Detroit house, doing special exercises to try… Read More

March 15, 2020. We were having a socially distant dinner at close friends. An annual winter event of mac and cheese usually followed by watching a Masterpiece Theater episode. This year, nothing suitable was on, so we watched a movie on a DVD. COVID-19 was already surging in parts of the West Coast and we… Read More

I often get comments about the treasure vault of old photos I provide in these stories. My father was the family record-keeper, both in still and moving pictures. When my parents divorced in 1981, my brother and I insured in the divorce decree that he got custody of those precious home movies (on real 8mm… Read More

I was a child of 8 on January 20, 1961. We came home from our Detroit elementary school for lunch each day. I knew the Kennedy Inauguration was special. The couple had magnetism and charisma to spare and I was caught up in the magic of the moment. I wolfed down my tuna sandwich leaning… 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

  In 1946 George Orwell wrote, “Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.” He went on to complain of the ways political speech had largely become “the defense of the indefensible”. After 75 years his words seem more appropriate than… Read More

I met Christie and Emily in 1965 in Intermediate Girls at the National Music Camp in Interlochen, Michigan. We’ve been friends ever since. I moved up to High School Girls in 1967. They both remained in the Intermediate Division, knowing that they would be leads in the Operetta; and so they were. I wanted the… Read More

As a child, we wouldn’t do anything resembling Christmas decorations, but, for some reason, I always had a nice, new straw hat for spring. You might even call it an Easter bonnet. We didn’t celebrate Easter, of course. I remember one such hat was navy blue with an up-turned brim and a velvet ribbon band… Read More

Before David had to devote his Tuesday and Thursday afternoons to Hebrew School, the Boston MFA offered a free art program for elementary school children several afternoons a week, open to all comers. We tried to go on Tuesdays as often as we could. It was funded by a foundation grant and was truly a… Read More