Veteran journalist Barbara Falconer Newhall riffs on life as she knows it.
The last time I saw Robert Morse there were beads of sweat on his forehead. It was 1967 and he was working the crowd on the set of a local TV comedy show. Robert Morse was on. He was going for laughs and he was going for them with the intensity of a rocket launch. He was doing what mid-life folks do – he was striving.
Christmas has gotten to be a scheduling nightmare. Peter lives in Minnesota. Christina lives in Southern California. Jon and I live in Northern California. That puts 400 miles between us and our daughter and 2,000 miles between us and our son. Not exactly over the river and through the woods. Read more.
Somebody owns Eagle Top. They bought it ten years ago and built a cottage on it. I didn’t think it was possible to buy, sell or own Eagle Top. Eagle Top was a wild place. I thought it belonged to itself. Read more.
The long dress I was planning to wear to my son’s wedding needed earrings. Not a necklace. Not a bracelet. Not a glitzy ring. My gown needed earrings. Big, attention-grabbing, dangle earrings. Read more.
I feel bad about my lip. My upper lip. Nora Ephron felt bad about her neck, a body part she made famous back in 2006 with her book I Feel Bad About My Neck. Nora also felt bad about her frizzy grey hair, parched skin, incipient mustache, flabby upper arms, and tendency toward belly fat. She was getting older.
My mother’s last words to me were nothing much. No parting words of love. No heartfelt messages to the grandchildren. Read more.
It’s time to drop that rock we’ve been carrying around, says Anne Lamott. It’s time to surrender to the fact that we can’t do it all. We’re getting older and it’s time to have ourselves some peace.