My Musings
Musing is the vehicle that evokes memories and burnishes them with tones of today.
On Freedom
I first came upon the concept of freedom in the years just before World War II, while attending primary school in New York City. Before that time, I roamed about testing my boundaries by simply acting upon my impulsive wishes and desires – stretching them to their...
Anger Management
When the voices of children are heard on the green, And whisperings are in the dale: The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind, My face turns green and pale. Nurse’s Song William Blake Songs of Innocence ...
Childhood
A long time ago, perhaps it was 1938, in that other world called “childhood,” I had a doll - a Princess Elizabeth doll. My Princess Elizabeth doll had blonde hair like me. She started out with brown eyes, but my mother had them painted blue so that Princess...
A Prayer
"God willing, I pray we may grow old together.'' A wish for a lifetime. But, be careful what you wish for. If we live as a couple for what seems a lifetime, through that time together we move down winding passages, from the initial delight of the romantic to the...
My Grandmother — The Witch
The light blue irises that floated in her watery eyes conjured thoughts of lily pads floating on a pond, and like the lily pads I had an urge to touch them, or maybe to drop into the water like the fairies do and swim in their depths. She was a small woman who seemed...
Can You Imagine…
… a time when a business credit card issued to a professional woman would be rejected at most restaurants? (How could a woman legitimately have a credit card in her own name?) … a time when a professional woman meeting a client for a working lunch would be escorted...
Requiem for Mr. Turtle
We always treated him with great respect, even though we harbored varying degrees of affection. After all, we named him Mr. Turtle. Mr. Turtle lived in a substantial glass bowl containing water, a jagged rock to climb, and a couple of plastic fish for companionship...
The Tortoiseshell Comb
Many years ago, on a surprisingly sunny day in late fall, in a medium-sized university town in upstate New York, well before streets gave way to highways that accompany urbanization, I drove home from my office enjoying the twinkling lights peeking through the...
The Pickle Man
Some memories disappear with time, others are distorted by time, and others remain imbedded in our mind in their original form, appearing at their own whim. That’s how my memory of the pickle man first functioned. With no directive on my part, it appeared and...
The Fallen Brownie
The day was a bleary grey. The snowflakes were beginning to disappear into the darkness of evening when the street lights slowly appeared and shed a dim yellow hue about the scene as their beams descended onto the streets and joined in with the detritus of the day to...