Happiness. It's relative.
This was my mother in 1938. The picture was taken at Niagara Falls. She was on her honeymoon, delayed several months while she and my dad gathered their resources. They kept track of their expenses in a small black notebook, noting every gas purchase,… Continue Reading “She Never Liked Pink: My Mother’s Perfection”
My parents were still thinking it was funny when my mother put the butter in the dishwasher. They had no idea what was down the road for them. How much covering up my dad would do, how many excuses he’d make, how many things… Continue Reading “Hints of What was to Come: My Parents at 75”
Stories of people my age forgetting which is the business end of a pencil make my blood run cold. That wasn’t always the case. When the people who got the mental flutters were a lot older than me, I could relax. I was in… Continue Reading “Button Up Your Pod”
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