Memoir

I Weep at a Love Triangle’s End

When I found the beautiful lady, still seductive and beautiful recumbent in her bed, a cantata of sweet moments that we shared in our youth played like a most harmonious acoustic song from long ago.

Her distinct perfume of a masterly crafted sweet wood and oil filled the space between us. My fingers itched to touch her and relive our sensuous operas of emotional expression — operas of great pleasure and pain.

Put Eutierra to Work for the Planet

And our planet’s modifier is in trouble. It’s a Neptune 911 crisis. What can we do to combat our ocean’s struggle with marine debris, hypoxia and acidification? The answers are found in university labs, recognized in world organizations, and ignored by feckless politicians and leaders.

New Blog: The EuroVan Chronicles

Enough of this world and all of its crooks and liars crushing the light out from the morning headlines! A high octane call to take to the road fuels my inner nomad. Drape me in beads and hats. Pack my bags (minimally). Climb aboard Gilda, the 1997 VW EuroVan with 136,000 miles already journeyed

Memoir Writing. Narcissistic or a Gift?

Featured in Vibrant Nation “Why do you feel compelled to tell everyone your story?” a friend asked after reading my memoir-in-progress posts. I was unsure if she thought me narcissistic. And when I do finish my story, readers will discover that I’m on the other end of narcissism. So I didn’t know if I should take offense or not. On the other hand, her question forced me to perform some dot connecting. As a young girl who bounced from the good life, []

Travel Journalist’s Ukraine Adventure Becomes Personal Discovery

Last November, I asked to review Judith Fein’s recently published book, The Spoon from Minkowitz.   She forwarded the PDF copy with follow-up emails probing my thoughts about the book. “I’m captivated,” I emailed. “I was worried that only Jews would relate to the book,” Fein returned. No. This is a book for all cultures. The premise of Fein’s new book captured my curiosity for many reasons, and I greedily wanted to be among the first to read it. First.  I hoped that []

The Christmas Queen’s Crown Rests

When I try to remember the best Christmas ever, it’s impossible.  It’s not that I never had a best Christmas ever.  But no single memory explodes into smiling snowflakes and flashing Christmas tree lights. The same goes with the worst Christmas ever.  They exist somewhere in my memory like empty beer cans tossed under a sparcely decorated dead Christmas tree. Selective memories fade in time and prove that each moment is temporary.  Some moments are like the whiff of a freshly peeled orange []

Brian Wilson’s Songs Of My Life

“Are you going to the prom?” a high school friend asked me on a warm May afternoon in 1966. In the background, Brian Wilson’s perfect falsetto crooned, “Wouldn’t It Be Nice.”  It made me think of my boyfriend, Ricky, at the time.  We were hot teens and I was a good Catholic girl. “Not this one,” I replied, hinting disappointment.  It was my own senior prom. “Can’t you bring Ricky?” my friend asked. I thought about our last date at the local []

An Anniversary Card To Spouse

Serendipity introduced me to my first husband at age 17.  A week after our meeting he promised that we would marry some day.  I laughed out loud.  At age 27 I was his widow with two children. I lacked a life-plan.  And on that late summer day when my children’s father unexpectedly died, helter-skelter reintroduced itself. I involuntarily joined the Hapless Young Widows Club (HYWC).  HYWC isn’t a chartered nonprofit organization.  But HYWC does chart a rugged path of misjudgment and denial, and []