So shall I. Today, I begin a series I’m calling “Letters from a Friend.” It may be a series of 2 or 100. I can’t guess, don’t know and can’t

Like a trickle, it begins. A droplet here, a rivulet there, and then the dam, it breaks. A milling, roiling flood of youth spill lively down cement steps. In the

Bump-bump-bumping over rough, icy roads, I turn in. “Grande macchiato,” I say to Barista, “stirred, with a shot of the whip.” I never come to Starbucks on Tuesdays close to

It was months ago that they’d come. A mother. A father. One Sunday morning, all of us gathered and listening. A Mr. and Mrs. Martin were guest speakers that day,

Dashing into the bank today, I see a dear, old friend. A quick and cheerful “hello” turns into a virtual coffee break (without the coffee, more’s the pity) right by

09/29/14, Grounds for Insanity–It was a pair of socks. OK. So here, it’s always “a pair of socks.” Or rather, singles looking to be pairs. After years of laundering every

I was standing at the bathroom sink when I saw it. Glancing up at the corner where the shower meets the ceiling, there it was. It crouched, dark, menacing, a

It was pea soup. Murk. London Harbor, judging by the thick fog that had rolled in overnight, blurring the landscape in greys. Soldiering through, I deposited Inspector Gadget and his

It was the last FFF (Fun, Free Friday) of the summer. Here, one non-driving teen was needing a ride to the high school where the cross-country team was hoofing it

I’d put it to him at dinner one night. There he sat, my blue-eyed, sandy-haired kid with the freckles on his nose and a corn cob in his hand. With