We’re not immortal after all. When we were twenty, we thought we were, which meant some of us did things like hop a freight train to Los Angeles. Read more.
A Case of the Human Condition
I’m Barbara Falconer Newhall and I’ve got an incurable Case of the Human Condition. And since you do too, I’m counting on you to laugh and cry along with me as I riff on life as we know it . . . Below you'll read about my creaky, old fifties house, my forays into home gardening, my shopping stories, my spectacularly low-fashion wardrobe -- and more.
I’m 83 and I’m Dumping My Bucket List
Sometime between the pandemic and my husband’s death I began dumping out the contents of my travel bucket list. Read more.
Is My Writing Too Nice?
I sometimes wonder when I sit down to write — am I too much of an optimist? Am I too hopeful? Too trusting? Is my writing too nice? Read more.
Tending a Friendship — I’m on Her Calendar and She’s on Mine
Tending a long and deep friendship — we’ve done it by setting a hiking date once a month, without fail, so that I’m on her calendar and she’s on mine. Read more.
Getting Older: I’m Not ‘Keeping Busy’
I’m getting older and older. I’m not ‘keeping busy.’ I’m busy, which is not the same thing. Read more.
Sheltering at Home Revisited: The Virus Arrives
Sheltering at home revisited: The virus arrives, the shutdowns go into effect, and we find out how much our “mere” acquaintances mean to us. Read more.
Widowed: We’re Older and Kinder Now
I’m older and kinder now, but not because I’m a virtuous goody-good. It’s my irresponsible id, my reptilian brain, that wants to be kind. Read more.