When I watch the national news, I am always staggered by men or women who say, after suffering through a particular event — the details which are often unimaginable — the crisis somehow brought them even closer to their spouse.
I'm Just Saying
It may be one of the signs of the apocalypse.
And friends tell me I may want to browse Nostradamus as well.
About a year ago, I was charmed to see Caroline Kennedy, promoting a collection of her mother’s favorite poems, being interviewed on television.
It wasn’t that I was particularly interested in Jackie’s literary taste, but I was riveted by the fact that Caroline easily recited several poems, without faltering, by request.
The heart of the racing documentary that I co-produced a year ago, JB Day, passed away last week at the age of 80. But his life deserves so much more attention than what was limited to in column inches, for his obituary.
Anna from the feed store bought a new horse.
Technically, a pony.
“He was bred to race but he just stopped growing at 14.1 hands,” she explained, totting up my order of timothy and alfalfa hay, shavings, two bags of grain and a Snickers, “So they had to figure out something to do with him.”
The mechanical sorting through my mother’s things with empty cardboard boxes and piles of newspapers scattered about her empty apartment gave me pause- the moment that strikes all of us after the death of a parent:
Is this it? Is this all there is to show for more than 92 years of life?
There’s several good reasons to move to a rural area. No traffic, dark, quiet nights, soothing vistas of bucolic green – these probably top the list. So I’m always amazed when my fellow Carolinians fail to experience the reasons for which they claim to have moved.
My mother began to receive hospice care a little over a week ago.
It just goes to show that there’s someone for everybody.
Certainly there have been thriving relationships that baffle the world with their initial attraction and long-term success: Helena Bonham-Carter and the darkly eccentric director Tim Burton, Woody Allen and Soon Yi, a banana and mayo sandwich...
It’s not that I place less importance on people than animals, but while I simply cannot dredge up a memory of someone I met or even knew quite well decades ago, I can somehow remember the animal in their life with laser-like precision.