I think all married people do this; at least that's what I tell myself. No matter how hard we try, we lose bits of ourselves over time. Commitment is a horribly abused word. As with the word, literally, it rarely... Read more →
I drove north to Starksboro on September 9 with no end date in sight. That's not me; I want concrete plans, or at least concrete foundations. I can improvise on that. The only concrete things I had were the drive... Read more →
Elizabeth performed her first airport pickup a little after 8 PM on February 27. Her mother mentioned it was odd seeing a mask or two on the plane. It reminded her of the SARS epidemic where some people wore masks... Read more →
When she was twelve she said: "I can't wait to get out of this town. I'm going to New York City where people are weird." Her mother and sister affectionately call her, 'that creepy little kid'. We see you, Elizabeth,... Read more →
On her ninth birthday, Elizabeth abruptly chose a different path. She turned her back on the Mean Girls and set about making herself invisible. In truth, she wasn't so much invisible as invulnerable. While bullying via social media became the... Read more →
Well before I married Elizabeth's father we talked about children. In those early conversations we didn't talk about financial weight so much as the emotional and support commitments; those nebulous things that go well past shelter, clothing, and food. To... Read more →
There is no doubt the boy got the short end of the stick every single time. They lived in a little stone cottage on a small farm. The farm had horses and dogs and cats and bunnies. There was a... Read more →
The bear's name is Parquet and if you've ever read The Velveteen Rabbit, be assured that Parquet has been real for a very long time. An odd eleven year old asked for a teddy-bear at Christmas and the bear appeared... Read more →
From the ACT UP funeral march carrying the body of Mark L. Fisher from Judson Memorial Church up Sixth Avenue to the Republican National Committee headquarters on the eve of the presidential election, 1992. Stephen Barker Where were you in... Read more →
We migrated south from New England, down to the Badlands of Fairfield County. Technically still New England by virtue of the nearly invisible line separating it from Westchester County, New England it was not. I'd never stayed in any one... Read more →