The other night, in a restaurant, my husband happened to encounter a woman he knew from high school days. This is not unusual. My husband frequently runs into people from his youth. In fact, I once wrote about this phenomenon, which never fails to amaze me. (See “State of the Reunion,” March 2, 2015.) Growing
Dear Readers: I beg your indulgence on two counts: one, for beginning this essay in the manner of an 18th century English novel, and two, for again writing about our new dog, Sam. I promise this will be the last time. Perhaps I shouldn’t promise, but I will try my best not to further subject
So I’m sitting at my desk trying to write this essay. Instead, I’m allowing my mind to wander and my attention to be distracted. My eyes should be focused on the screen while my fingers fly over the keyboard. But every few minutes I swivel my chair to the right and stare at what may
