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Connection is the lifeblood of civilization, I think. It has become more apparent in the past year when we have been so separated from one another because of the pandemic. Loneliness, grief, depression have made life all but intolerable for so many of us. I am someone who enjoys her own company, but I do…
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“She finds trouble wherever she goes,” my younger brother said of me back in the 1980’s. It was meant as a compliment. At least I chose to take it as such. He said this after I had led (or participated in–I can’t recall for sure) a walkout of reporters at the East Bay weekly paper,…
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I’ve always loved a man in a fedora, a boy in a baseball cap, a lady in a floppy, big-brimmed hat. My dad was a handsome Mad Man-type in the 1950s and ’60s. He never left the house without wearing a felt fedora to match whatever fine suit or overcoat he had on. There’s something…
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I’ve never considered myself much of a binger. Unless, of course, you’re referring to my addiction to very dark, bittersweet chocolate. Or to Hagan Daz Belgian chocolate or coffee ice cream. I guess you could call me a binger if you put a quart of that in front of me with a spoon. My ice…
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I used to hate the short, dark days of December. I’d sink into them. Sulk. Play the Blues. Then I spent one New Years in Iceland. It was dark but for two hours of twilight midday. Two white swans floated on the placid pond in Reykjavik. Time passed slowly. We sipped Scotch at 6. Huddled…
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I’ve always loved going for interviews. I know how to shine at an interview. And I almost always get the job or the date. I like the rush of ‘winning.” But I don’t always want what I get. Fresh out of U of Michigan nursing school, I followed my med school grad husband to Oakland,…
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Autocorrect makes me crazy, always trying to improve on my pretty-perfect spelling. Like substituting the word ‘ass’ for ‘asp.’ Now why would it even bother?! Does it think I picked the wrong animal? And how will children ever learn to spell when Autocorrect cleans up after them? I have an editor’s eye for misspellings though…
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My first Thanksgiving as a married woman, I invited my in-laws to our tiny apartment. I bought a Ready-to-Cook turkey, unwrapped it and stuck it in the oven, as instructed. I folded up the couch-bed and readied the living room to receive guests. I made the stuffing, cooked the yams, opened the cranberry sauce and…
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In my hippie days I lived on a communal farm in Olympia, Washington. I, of all people, a city girl from New York, somehow got the job of planting and nursing the garden. Being a relatively cooperative sort, I didn’t argue, though I knew my hair would frizz in the damp air (my biggest concern…
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Last week I looked at the hula hoop leaning lazily against my bedroom door. I looked at myself in my floor length mirror, sucked my belly in and was saddened to see that my once-slim waist was still pinchable. I decided it was time to begin a hula hoop regimen to take care of that.…
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The Power of Connection
Prompted By Reconnecting
/ Stories

Once a Troublemaker …
Prompted By Good Trouble
/ Stories

Hats, Caps and the Like
Prompted By Hats
/ Stories

I Scream, You Scream
Prompted By What Are You Bingeing?
/ Stories

Dark Into Light
Prompted By Hello Darkness
/ Stories

You Don’t Always Want What You Get
Prompted By Interviews
/ Stories

Damn you, autocorrect!
Prompted By Spelling
/ Stories

What’s That Smell?!
Prompted By Pandemic Holidays
/ Stories

Dig, Hippie, Dig!
Prompted By The Garden
/ Stories

Hula Ow!
Prompted By Fads and Trends
/ Stories
