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My Boy, Alexander

Where are the words? I wonder. Where are the words? My throat is parched and my tongue lies ...
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Friendship: From Oysters to Osprey

When my best friend from Annapolis moved to Vermont to be near her sister and start a new ...
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Getting Old is Heaven

As she moved into her mid-seventies, my Nana began to say: “getting old is hell.” And when my ...
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Giving Away Mom

My mother’s name invades my writing room: the big, black, bold ANNE SEXTON jumping off the spine of ...
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Laughing Lady

Living on the water is the height of beauty: from sunsets over a river that ripples with pink ...
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To Pack Or To Purge

Just about four years ago, I picked up nearly thirty years’ worth of California experience and made my ...
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Spring Fling

It’s not time for summer reading yet, but it is time for a spring fling into new books—some ...
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Nothing Risked, Nothing Gained

How obvious to observe that the writer’s life is solitary. I am at my desk by nine, but ...
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Bright Eyes

Whenever Breeze and Brad and I take a walk, strangers who pass us on the sidewalk ask how ...
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A Christmas Mac Attack

It was the day after Christmas, and in the kitchen I was savoring my supper of left-over beef ...
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