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Tag Archives: growing up
It was 1971, late summer or early fall, and in my memory the day is cast in an amber kind of glow, all warm hues and soft edges. I was twenty years old, a college dropout, still snagged on some … Continue reading
That’s what Kit said to Beverly one evening, just the two of them driving along the Ranch road, an empty house awaiting them. We all experience it sometimes, that jolting realization that we did it and it’s over…and it all went … Continue reading
March 29, 2011. It would have been my father’s hundredth birthday, and that’s too big a milestone to let go without mention. There’s something breathtaking about it. It makes me realize how much he was of a different time, a … Continue reading
“Your family is its own religion,” a therapist once told me, “complete with saints, martyrs, demons and apparitions. You seem to have a shared record of acts and pronouncements that are still being debated and interpreted, a roster of the most … Continue reading
At some point in the late 1950s (or maybe it was the beginning of the 60s) I went to the birthday party of a classmate named Janet Fechner who lived on McDonald Avenue in Brooklyn, not far from my grandfather’s pizzeria. … Continue reading