There are not many photographs of Elizabeth and me after she was eight. There wasn't anyone to take them for the most part and I'm not big on selfies. However, there is this and it tells all you need to... 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 →


It was an albatross, almost all of it, and I don't believe I ever asked for it. This doesn't mean I didn't make those choices; it just means I don't have to continue making those choices. I can stop now,... 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 →


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 →


I think this might be the most honest photograph of me, ever. I remember Joe set the camera on a table, messed about for a bit, and then set the timer. This was us in 1984. I was twenty, he... Read more →


I was coming of age, and she was coming into her own. She fought battles for me well before I knew I'd need them. She was tenured at Columbia University in 1972; just about the time I informed my parents,... Read more →