Writing from the Heart: Last resort
In 1955 in Hartford, Conn., in the middle of a raging recession, I took a sip of my last straw. I had applied for housekeeping positions at four different motels and was told I...
Writing from the Heart: Meditation miracles
In 1977, in the middle of my life, which had become an extended, ongoing crisis, I asked the owner of my favorite Indian restaurant if she knew anyone who meditated and could teach me....
Writing from the Heart: Anger
I had a son who was angry. He came out of the womb arguing with me. We called him “Last Word Dan.” It took me decades to learn not to engage. But all those...
Writing from the Heart: Magic eyes
In the early ’70s, there was a book being passed around in our circle of friends called “Magic Eye Beyond 3D.” Basically it was a two-dimensional image that had a three-dimensional image hidden in...
Writing from the Heart: Words run deep
This piece isn’t about the fact that my first affair was with a girl, although that is a fact. It’s about how one spoken line, a few words, can change a life, a mood,...
Writing from the Heart: Truth and consequences
Did you know when you Google, your buying history is stored on the computer until you delete it? Once I learned (from a 3-year-old) that keeping the pages open was draining my battery, I...
Writing from the Heart: Rosa rugosa returns
We have a Rosa rugosa bush right outside our side door, and the first flower bloomed this morning. The initial thing that hit me wasn’t its magnificent magenta color, it was the smell that...
Writing from the Heart: The good ol’ days
Ah, the good ol’ days. Who says that? I have never said those words, and I'm old enough to feel the sentiment. I can’t imagine thinking that the good ol’ days were better. It’s...
Writing from the Heart: Rude awakenings
I think I have an idea of what it might have felt like to be a Pole during the Nazi occupation. I grew up hearing things like, “Of course they knew. They had to...
Writing from the Heart: Getting to, and from, no
I am practicing the word no. It's only two letters. It shouldn't be that hard to pronounce. But it’s not the pronunciation I’m having trouble with. It’s saying it. To you.
My conditioning began, just...
Writing from the Heart: Stormy weather
It’s pouring, and I’m listening. The sky is getting dark, and I am hoping for some thunder. Maybe even some hail. I open the door for a whiff.
How is it possible for the girl...
Writing from the Heart: Show or tell
Years ago I read the biography of Armand Hammer, the oil baron. In it he said his mother always said, “Make haste slowly.” I loved that. But then I remember thinking, What did my...
Writing from the Heart: Hello, my name is Grief
My sister died on Dec. 2. A week later I was Googling houses and land for sale in Vermont. I emailed a friend and asked her why she had moved to Quechee, a small...
Writing from the Heart: Acting like neighbors
Lately I’ve been thinking about the Neighborhood Association meetings my husband and I begrudgingly attended in the early 1970s, when we moved into the lily-white suburb of West Hartford, Conn.
I say “begrudgingly” because we...
Writing From the Heart: Valentine’s Day
I recently asked a few close friends who are in long-term marriages what they used to argue about in their younger years. One husband said about his wife, “She was always late; even when...
Writing From the Heart: As good as new
When I was 18, I had water on the knee, and ended up having a tendon transplant during my freshman year of college. The campus police had to drive me to classes. I had...
Writing From the Heart: Navigating new pronouns
Last night I was at a Zoom birthday party. In our introductions as we went around “the room” we were asked to identify our pronouns. It wasn’t the first time I encountered such a...
Writing From the Heart: Realistic resolutions
Every year I make New Year's resolutions, and every year I give them up by Jan. 6. The list has gotten shorter and shorter as time has gone by, but always at the top...
Writing From the Heart: Patience is a virtue
Patience is a virtue, a phrase believed to have originated from the poem “Piers Plowman,” written in 136O by English poet William Langland. Willie should only know the trouble I've had with that particular...
Writing From the Heart: What does poverty feel like?
I’m not the only one who has been rich and poor and then ended up somewhere in the middle. So my perspective is not radically unique, but I think it still bears sharing.
First of...