Dear Diary: I have to confess that what I’m about to do feels very weird indeed. I haven’t written in a diary since I was a love-sick teenager, age 13. It was the summer that my first boyfriend Joey dumped me for my best friend, Joanie. Perhaps the alliterative sound of Joey and Joanie was
One of the rites of winter in Florida is the annual visit of the grandchildren. Four years ago I commemorated this event with an essay. Yesterday marked the end of another week that was long on fun, but short on time. So please forgive me while I repost. Four years later, some things
Is there an official start date for one’s second childhood? I don’t mean the one that accompanies the onset of dotage, but a time of life when you no longer feel silly about releasing your inner pre-adolescent? I urgently need to know, because it’s already June and I’m thinking about enrolling in summer camp. I
It is July and once again we have succumbed to the temptation of a summer rental. Apparently the seduction of a new experience was more powerful than the memory of our last rental. At that time we had fallen in love with a charming, rustic home on an island with beautiful beaches. At least I
All over south Florida the cry can be heard. Grandparents everywhere have marked their calendars. It’s President’s week, and the children have a school holiday. They will visit, and life as you have come to know it will be suspended for the next five to seven days. Whether this event makes you feel like Paul
I hate packing for a trip. I hate packing for a trip almost as much as I hate preparing for a colonoscopy. It’s not so much the physical act of buttoning, folding, and strategic placement in the suitcase as it is the premeditation. I don’t know how it is for you men, but for most
