Those First Few Words

Another Great Move-In cranks up in Boston this week. Fifteen U-hauls on every two-block stretch. I have no choice while I am stuck in traffic but to watch the parade and think.
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There comes a time in a woman’s life when people start calling her M’am. My time has come. I am okay with it. I’ve earned it. But I still wince and look over my shoulder to see if my grandmother is behind me.  Continue

I was putting money into a parking meter the other day and had to enter the parking space number into the electronic kiosk. 007. Just the sight of those numbers gives me the same delicious sense of danger and excitement it did when I had this under my bed in 1965. Continue

I have a piece of furniture that once belonged to my Nana. I believe it is called a secretary. It is vertical, has two doors which open to reveal shelves, and a drop-down writing desk. It is not of good quality or design. And, as the unfortunate result of a wood bleaching technique that was very popular in the 1940s, it is a particularly hideous color best described as Moldy Light Rye Bread. Continue

There has always been a dog. In the beginning they were my siblings – my parents’ dogs. Then I became a dog mother and have remained one almost continuously for the last forty years. It started with Noah Snow, a beautiful and charismatic West Highland White Terrier who took a nice chunk out of my future husband’s nose when he first came courting. Then we had a brief and unhappy relationship with Barney the Beagle, who would not stop barking or chewing and was ultimately relocated to a farm which made us all happy. Next was Yukiko, a noble (except around cheeseburgers) black toy poodle born on Christmas Day twenty-eight years ago. She lived to be almost seventeen and was a wonderful friend. Continue

One of my favorite (and under-appreciated) expressions is when we say someone behaves like “a horse’s ass.” Not very popular, it is thought to date back to the mid- nineteenth century. I have used it a few times and been surprised at how few people recognized it. To me,  it’s the absolute best way to describe when someone says or does something spectacularly stupid. It surfaced early in the current presidential campaign a few times. And you are about to read of another fine example. Continue

I opened to the “M” page in my address book yesterday and found a sweet little chronology. The first entry for the M family was entered a few weeks after we first moved in thirty years ago. They were our new neighbors and we would eventually become friends. There was no need yet for dialing area codes locally, and the phone numbers hadn’t morphed into odd exchanges that no longer indicated their geographical association. (Decatur 2-9433, anyone?) Just seven digits, written in my usual large, chunky grade-school penmanship. Continue

In the late 1990s, with our cranky babies having grown into cranky college freshmen, the small group of friends we’d formed eighteen years ago was anxious to rediscover some quality time. Forever we’d bonded over frugal potluck suppers, happy enough for the adult contact and a change of scenery. Now we were middle-aged, more affluent, and longing to pursue the elegant lifestyle we’d coveted all those years while up to our ears in squeaky violins and soccer cleats. So when the annual “Dinner Parties” issue of Bon Appétit caught my eye at the market, I thought I’d plan one. At last, the time in our lives had come when the need for babysitters and carpools had ceased. Finally, we could buy good steaks and still pay the electric bill! Early the next morning I strategized, picking out tentative dates and shifting names around for a guest list. “Two weeks from Saturday,” I told them. “Can’t wait!” they replied. Continue

Several years ago when a cell phone was the size of a toaster oven, I announced to a friend at coffee that I was not going down that road. I held out for a bit, but with teenagers it became evident very soon that I was cutting off my nose to spite my face. If I had a cell phone, I could be out and about and still be available to them. No more answering machine to run home to, no more pagers. So I signed up. Continue