Perspective
Thanks, Mom
It was not easy growing up with my mom.
Once we actually got home, we found that the elation born of our Spanish pilgrimage was heightened rather than compromised by the nightmarish return trip, involving the unexplained cancellation of a flight to Madrid, racing about Galicia from one Podunk airport to another by bus, diversions to London, bureaucratic hassles and a shamefully inefficient and unpleasant passage through immigration control and Kennedy Airport.
Back in 1977, when I was still young, my father-in-law acquired a beast of a machine — a big seven-horse, Troy Bilt, rear-tine tiller that was the envy of this part of Belcher Mountain Road.
What's so special about the informal gathering places in our lives? From vacant lots to parklets, Marge Speidel observes the attraction of social spots.
The signature line on my email currently reads: "Who we are is a quality of the moment.