Archives in Category: Nostalgia

Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

Eight Lights

Today I spent the better part of the afternoon trimming our Christmas tree, and it always makes me sentimental. Some of my ornaments are ages old and come from my former lives; putting them on the tree provides for recollections.

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Old Women Revisited

About ten years ago, I wrote an essay about my childhood friend Carol, whom I’ve known since sixth grade. She was eleven and I was ten when we met. I just spent the last three days with her and feel

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Summer’s Over

Monday was Labor Day. In a way, it’s an oxymoron that one should simply relax on Labor Day, but I’m willing to let grammatical issues slide to go with the flow. What strikes me most, however, is that Labor Day

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Vignette

I pulled into the South Shore Health and Racquet Club this morning, intent on getting my daily dose of exercise out of the way as quickly as possible. As I climbed from my car, a cheery voice said, “Hi.”

I

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La Leche League International

Rummaging in our office supplies closet yesterday, I came across a simple white mug with the outline of a woman cradling a baby drawn on one side and the inscription “Liga de la Lactancia Materna de Honduras” on the other.

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Today in History

There’s a daily column in the local newspaper called “Today in History,” which lists things that happened on today’s date in other years. For instance, on August 4, 1944, Anne Frank and her family were discovered, after hiding in a

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Ironing with Tom

This afternoon I spent a couple hours ironing and reacquainting myself with Tom Paxton, a folk singer from the sixties. I’ve ironed a gazillion times since then, but only listened to Paxton occasionally. It should have been the reverse.

I’m

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Parting Memory

I had thought I’d write about Nathan’s Hotdogs tonight as my parting memory from my recent visit to New York City. But just as I was sitting down to blog, Earl noted that there was a special on PBS acknowledging

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Father’s Day Musings

My ex-husband, Jeff, died two days ago and is being buried tomorrow. We would have been divorced fifteen years this coming August; and, truthfully, I haven’t spent much of the intervening time thinking about him.

I knew he was ill

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Carol

My oldest friend, meaning the friend I’ve known the longest and not necessarily the most aged, just spent two days here. We wined and dined and even shopped a little. But what we did most was talk. We have over

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