Here’s a problem for my retirement. Left to its own devices, my mind does not spin out charming stories. It does not reminisce fondly on happy times of the past, or dwell happily on my wonderful family and friends. It does not ponder great philosophical conundrums or invent creative solutions to social problems. Left to … Read More
When I was young, my mom was one of the few mothers I knew who worked or went to college. In the year I started elementary school, she started her BA; as I was graduating from high school, she was graduating with her MA in Speech Pathology. After that, she ran the Speech and Hearing … Read More
On quiet evenings at home, it’s fun to daydream about packing up and moving to some faraway place. Books like Frances Mayes’ Under the Tuscan Sun or Peter Mayle’s A Year in Provence give us details that let us dream and sigh in glowing technicolor. They fill our imaginations with convincing particulars like sunny terraces, … Read More
I meant to edge up to retirement the way I’ve edged up to most of my life’s big changes: I would 1) read about it, 2) talk to friends, and 3) journal. It didn’t work out like that. Because my husband is a few years older than I am, so are his old friends from … Read More
As for many of us, the morning after I retired was a Saturday. It was a weekend, and besides I still had papers to grade. Then I had to pack for our summer up in Nova Scotia, and drive up, and settle in. (There’s unpacking, stocking the refrigerator, setting up my desk, checking on how … Read More
Some people like their work but not their colleagues. Others like their colleagues but not the work. Some get sick and tired of a difficult commute. Most find the structure of the working day a straitjacket some days. Almost everyone hates the moment the alarm goes off in the morning. These are excellent reasons to … Read More
Who could not love Florence? Plenty of people, that’s who. As my husband and I wended our way through the city streets on our daily jaunts, we saw lots of bored, tired faces among the throngs. Some of were probably on this Italian trip to placate a spouse or parent; some had probably had fights … Read More
As an asthmatic kid in the Midwest, I was stuck in a steam-tent for days and weeks on end. My mom was busy, not only with keeping my room scrupulously free of dust, pollen, and germs, but also with my new baby brother. It was books that kept me company. Most of the time, those … Read More
GRANNY GEAR. Anyone who’s learned (or re-learned) to bicycle knows it. Anyone who’s a happy amateur uses it — a lot. It’s the lowest gear you can get your bicycle into, the one that allows you to sweat and curse your way up a steep hill, very slowly. It’s the gear that gets you there. … Read More
It began as a romantic dream. Maybe we would become expat writers in Italy, like the Brownings in the 1850s, Joyce in the 1920s, Mary McCarthy in the late 1950s, or (more recently) Anthony Doerr, who started All the Light We Cannot See while on a writing fellowship in Rome. “His latest novel was written … Read More