Everybody has a trick for entering their writing. They light candles, turn on Mozart, twirl three times counterclockwise. Me, I cook. This is new. And it isn’t the cooking, really, it’s the smell. Seems I need the simmering of onions…
Several months ago, one of my mother’s childhood friends died. Margie was a librarian, teacher, writer, activist. Although we hadn’t connected in many years, she remained a vivid part of my memory of childhood, very much the color Red. At…
I don’t think I’m the only writer who finds life interfering with art from time to time, or—often. Whether I simply allow it or embrace distraction, I’m not sure. But I jilt my manuscript repeatedly, sometimes for a weekend, sometimes…
Sandy Stark-McGinnis has written a poignant and beautiful book about 11-year-old Cassie Rodrigues, her mother who has early-onset Alzheimer’s, and a bucket-list adventure they take together. Stark-McGinnis takes on the challenge of Alzheimer’s without being sentimental or simplistic, allowing young…
This morning as I was avoiding my desk, I felt compelled to tend to my garden. Watering, well that was necessary, and then inspecting and kvelling over all my beautiful plants. The first Siberian irises were unfurling, and my one…
On this past Solstice eve, instead of celebrating by the fire with friends, I went to Lahey hospital for a last minute MRI, to rule out something an ultrasound had picked up. The details of that true story don’t matter,…