Dear Readers: I’m wordless! Which is a sorry state for a writer. Nevertheless, I’m not sure I have the proper vocabulary to convey my gratitude. My new book, Laughing My Way Through the Third Stage, now in its fifth week since its release in early October, has been selling like the idiomatic hot cakes. (Personally,
Book clubs are all the rage. They’re everywhere. Oprah has one. Civic groups and country clubs have them. Chances are your church or synagogue has one. (Come to think of it, they’ve been reading the same book for years). Whether they’re formal and structured, or a free-for-all in someone’s home, book clubs just might be
Do you ever think about your old flames? I mean, really old. Like the crushes you had in elementary school or junior high? Well, I don’t. At least I didn’t until the other day. I’m not quite sure what got the little engine in my brain on that track. Maybe it was the bagel I
Dear Readers: I’m pleased and excited to announce the release on Tuesday, October 4th, of my third book of essays: Laughing My Way Through the Third Stage: Selected Essays that Skewer the Golden Years. Unlike my first two books, whose essays addressed the random irritants of everyday life, I have devoted this volume to all
Forgive me if I indulge in a bit of nostalgia, but for this essay it seems appropriate. I’m referring to an old radio program called “Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons.” If you admit your age is hovering somewhere near four score, perhaps you can remember listening to the broadcast with your parents as you
Labor Day weekend is upon us, and despite the fact that we were just experiencing a heat wave, come Monday, summer is unofficially at an end. In truth, summer is not really over until the calendar says it is, on or about September 21. But then, the calendar completely ignores the real indications of the
The inevitable has happened. The insidious process has reached its conclusion. The final step has been taken, and the journey is over. I can deny it no longer. I have become my mother! Despite our self-righteous cries as young girls that we will never be like her, one day we look in the mirror, and
I have been on a quest for the perfect dress. Perfect for me, that is. And I do have some very specific requirements. Requirements that I probably didn’t have when I was 30 years younger. But you know how that is. If you don’t know, you might be too young to relate to this essay.
Anthropomorphism, that’s what. You may not know the word, but I’ll bet you a month’s worth of Starbuck’s Chocolate Cream Cold Brew that you know what it is. We all grew up with it. Kids still do. Mickey Mouse, Pluto, Bugs Bunny, Mr. Ed, talking teapots, minions, and the like. Anthropomorphism, a multi-syllabic word that’s
Let’s hit the ground running and create the right synergy, so we can go after low-hanging fruit. If you don’t have the bandwidth, phone me. Let’s touch base and think outside the box. I did not create the paragraph above. I stole it from the internet to illustrate that this is an essay about
