When my family moved to the Oley Valley, I was in the second grade. The village had less than 2000 residents, one traffic light, and no football team. The Main Street was, and still is, lined with brick Victorians and old stone farmhouses. There’s the M & M... read more
Long ago when my husband and I first dated, he had sweet terms of endearment for me. Young love makes you say silly things. Darling. Sweetheart. Honeybunches. His friends teased him. But he couldn’t help himself! He was so in love. And I secretly savored these... read more
At Sunday dinner last week, my seventy-two year old mother was about to pass on the fresh-from-the-oven brownies that I’d baked. “I’m on a diet,” she said with a look of sheer determination. “I’m not wearing a dress to swim in the bay this summer. I’m getting into a... read more
(Stick A Flag In Your Yard, Redux) In 1970 the Vietnam War was unpopular. My father was a medical resident, specializing in orthopedics, and therefore excused from military service as part of The Berry Plan. The draft couldn’t take him. Still there was an unconscious... read more
If I’m not writing, I’m selling real estate. Sometimes, when I reveal this to my artsy writer friends, I get a look of surprise or outright disbelief. My profession’s reputation precedes me. It’s no secret that a real estate makes the list of the Twenty Sleaziest Ways... read more
With the joys of parenthood come plenty of small and sometimes large disappointments. The defeats we quietly absorb, maybe vent about to a close friend, or agonize over with a spouse. All that stuff we’re not posting on Facebook or bragging about in the annual... read more
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