On their very first date, way back in 1931, my parents went to the Philadelphia Flower Show. My mother was a 20-year-old beauty. My father was a dashing young lawyer of 26.
It’s well after midnight, and I was in the kitchen enjoying a private binge of frozen cake straight from the package. I’m was feeling out of control, fat and guilty. My husband stumbled in, looking a bit panicky.
A stranger observing them in the back room of the Country Club Diner on a recent evening might wonder: Was this a family gathering? A neighborhood party? An office party?
My serious mistake had been to believe a friend who had uttered those seven seductive words, “Have I got a guy for you!”
Full confession: I’ve been in love, with my 2013 calendar.
The heating guys have been here. They insist that our system is “balanced” — their word, not mine. They tell us that we’re wise and sensible people to have the whole system checked before the real bite of winter kicks in.
It’s the season. The riotous preparations, the rush of homecomings and the 21-pound turkey — all will be taking center stage in our household, and probably yours, this week.
For a generation of us, he was the gallant knight — handsome, brave, smart and charming. The smile, the athleticism, the sweet way he showed his affection for Caroline and little John-John…all of it captivated us.
One of the sobering realities of growing older is the recognition that there are paths you’ll never wander again — that you swore you’d never want to.
It was an early autumn afternoon, and it was just the two of us at Jonah’s backyard jungle gym. This grandson, with the thatch of dark brown hair, always has had a special place in my heart because he is in that unenviable middle child position in a family of three boys.