Love the people who treat you right. Forget about those who don't. I'd make a tweak in that "Love the people who treat you right." I'd say "Love everyone. But forget about those who don't treat you right." "Don't pay any attention to people who don't treat you right." That's the main . . .
When M and I divorced in 1981 I threw away my wedding album. We didn't have children whose history it belonged to, so why would I keep it? It's not like it was any kind of beginning, or so I thought. It was just my first false start. I thought. I never gave it another thought until we remarried . . .
Most babies in the 1950s and maybe longer wore these traditional little white lace-up baby shoes. I love them--they remind me of purity and innocence. They are so not-stylish that they remind me of the time when children were concerned not with fashion or celebrity but with the things of . . .
My father could be a difficult man. No, I'm not going to detail how and when or why--for this story it's enough to say that he could be difficult and we had a pretty contentious relationship well into my adulthood. I thought him a fearsome figure. But. Our relationship has strengthened . . .
Do you ever look at old family pictures and wonder at the innocence they portray? How we knew nothing of the life that was to unfold? How each decision we made took us in one direction or another, and that direction completely changed what might have been another outcome? Do you look into your own . . .
After zipping my suitcase shut and slipping my laptop into a carryon, the last thing I did this afternoon was slip one of my mother's rings on my finger to wear while I'm in London. As I did, I thought about the many things she didn't get to do, partly because she died young at 74 but also because . . .
It was snowing hardand so cold that Christmas Eve,13 years ago,when we said goodbye to you at Holy Sepulchre Cemetery. Just wanted you to know I haven't forgotten,not this Christmas Eve,not any Christmas Eve,and not any day of my life, and know we will meet again one day. ♥ . . .
Home.For me, it's always been several places. Syracuse. Tallahassee. Los Gatos. San Jose. Mountain View. Saratoga. Tampa. Schoen Place But there's only one hometown and for me, it's Rochester NY. When I was there in May, my nephew and I went to lunch at Schoen Place, along the river. Although . . .
Most of my most significant old photographs have disappeared. Too many moves, for one thing. But also, when M. and I divorced in 1980, I discarded all our old pictures. Including our wedding album. They were a memory of time and a person I thought were long gone. We didn't have kids; there seemed . . .
It knows no boundaries, earthly or otherwise. A Happy Mother's Day to mothers everywhere, including those who are no longer in this earthly dimension. Like mine. . . .