Even though Mamie says its illegal, she makes it sound like an invitation.  Out one side of her mouth she’s making my childhood sound like a party or a beer commercial, the riotous fun we had before seatbelts, sun-shirts and bottled water.  “‘We’ used to jump off that bridge…” she says, describing the stone structure built across an elbow of the Hubbard River.  It was probably 20 feet above a dark pool, deep in places… Continue reading

To those who are enthralled by mountains their wander is beyond all despite. To those are not their allure is a madness.” The Call of the Void: High Place Phenomenon and being in love with oblivion. N. Razzo July 2019 Gambling with our given weather, we plan an early morning hike about 45 minutes from the lake. One I’ve never done. Sophie finds it on a hiking app and Mamie quickly locates it in a hiking… Continue reading

Last week I drove five teens to a lake house in Massachusetts to visit their grandmother. Two of mine and their three cousins. It is a summertime ritual, time at the lake, part of their earliest memories and made more precious, this trip, by the pandemic. It almost didn’t happen. No one wanted to carry “it” north, flout CDC guidelines or fly in the face of epidemiologists. A few days before leaving we all got… Continue reading

I’ve never been so glad to lose a child. If only they could give you this feeling on graduation day or move-in day, a feeling where what is happening matches what you are actually feeling. Maybe it is the quarantine, or the disease, that has brought my heart to its knees. Or the long months of cancelled life, so very unnatural. Now, in the midst of a global pandemic, Ellie is leaving. Stranger still, Ellie… Continue reading

Every morning around seven, I hear the downstairs door crash open and Will comes bounding into the kitchen. Through the left-open door the birds that woke him sign off with their melodious shrill and my “me time” is shattered. I’ve usually got my tea by then, seated at the kitchen table or computer. Boy attacks me with a spontaneous hug–messy, sudden, all limbs and a grin. His backyard nap has ended with the dawn racket… Continue reading

William loves to drive. He learned to ride a bike at four–right across our front yard, careening past trees. I remember him grinning and clinging to the handlebars, sheer will squeezing out tears as he tried to keep the bike aright. The intention could have powered the SpaceX Shuttle. Took about ten tries and we were off! He’d cut his teeth long before that, “steering” a Craftsman riding mower seated on his dad’s lap. He… Continue reading

One of our favorite children’s books from years ago is a Yiddish folktale about perspective. And humble contentment. And a little about gratitude. Since these are things that come in quite handy in a quarantine, I thought I would try my hand at parody. If you aren’t familiar with the original tale, it is here: It Could Always Be Worse The title popped into my head recently as the fridge broke and froze all our… Continue reading

The back seat of my car is actually pretty comfortable. I have my shoes off, my glasses off, even my mask, and I have located a few towels and picnic blanket to use as a pillow. My cell phone I clutch to my chest as I drift in and out of consciousness in the wee hours, waiting on a text or call from Ellie. She is on the inside, where I brought her three hours… Continue reading

In the 25 years we’ve lived here, in this house and neighborhood there has never been an ice cream truck come through. The houses are spaced far apart. The driveways are long. Ask your feet at Halloween, when you’ve put in 10,000 steps for your next Mars Bar and your little ones are begging to go home. Plus the neighborhood is old and not teeming with children. We have a Santa come through every December… Continue reading