You Don’t Make Old Friends
When I made the decision to move from Boston to Minneapolis three years ago, my friends and neighbors wished me well. But not JoAnn: “What are you thinking?” she asked me. Old friends tend to be blunt.
Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying
Who doesn’t love the sun? I always worshiped it in the most delicious, but unhealthy ways, especially when I was young. My altars were rooftops, beaches and convertibles. I always dreaded the end of daylight saving time, when it was shockingly dark at 5 p.m. (It takes place this year on Sunday, Nov. 3, at 2 a.m.) I didn’t like spending the next six months as the sun’s jilted lover, waiting for it to come crawling back to me from Rio, or wherever it had run off to.
Recipes for Life
“Cookbooks. $3 each,” said the sign on the table in my driveway.
They were gone within a few hours — hundreds of cookbooks that I had spent decades collecting. I had cookbooks for every country’s city and region; for every technique, from roasting to outdoor grilling; by big- name chefs, celebrities and foodies. I had the classics, from “Julia Child” to “Joy of Cooking” to “Escoffier.” I had cookbooks whose recipes I didn’t give a fig about. Their sumptuous photographs were a meal in themselves.
But there was one cookbook that didn’t make my moving sale: Marcella Hazan’s “Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking.” Even if I had wanted to sell it, I doubt I could — its pages are frayed and covered with food stains.
The original post appeared in Purple Clover
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Don’t Ask What Books Are on My Coffee Table!
Every Sunday I read the “By the Book” column that appears in the New York Time’s Book Review section. The one-page Q&A asks important writers and artists about their reading habits.
I’m always astonished — and intimidated — by the titles and quantity of the books the interviewees rattle off. I just hope I never get a call from the editors of the column asking what I’m reading now.
How to Have Flair at Any Age
My friend Jennifer, who lives in Los Angeles, came to visit me in Minneapolis last month. She’s my age and has always had an innate sense of style, even when she was broke. Her style also includes saying exactly what she thinks.
I met her at the airport. She was dressed all in black and sporting flashy red bifocals. When we got to my house, where the light was bright, she said to me, “You know, you need to get new glasses. The ones you’re wearing make you look dowdy.” I couldn’t believe it. She just dropped the “d” word. You don’t do that to people after a certain age.
The Many Steps to Coming Home
When I was younger, I bought a third-floor walk-up condo in Boston. That was 16 years ago. The wooden three-unit building was constructed in 1885 by German and Irish laborers. It’s heavy like a ship. The stairs, located inside the building, are made of oak. They had never gotten the better of me over my years of living there. I’d easily bound up and down them all day long, often carrying bags of groceries.
If I took the back stairs, it was four flights up and down.
How My Old Dog Is Teaching Me to Age Gracefully
I love dogs and the lessons they teach us. My 12-year-old dog inspired me to write this blog. I rescued Goldie from a shelter in Danbury, Connecticut, when she was almost six years old.
I Got Rid of My Clutter by Taking It to Court
Clutter is a popular magazine topic. I wanted to write about it in a fresh way. I wanted to address the guilt that comes from getting rid of personal objects and family heirlooms. So I wrote the essay as if I were Judge Judy.
A Dream Airline That’s Just for People Over 50
Those of us who traveled before deregulation remember how civilized and comfortable flying could be. I wrote this blog about my fantasy airline. I called it Boomer Air.