Zack and I took in the show, –Unfinished: Thoughts Left Visible, at the Met Breuer last month. I was drawn to this painting by Roman Opalka, a Polish artist who began the count to infinity to convey the continuum of time. He painted 233 canvases in all, before his death in 2011, with white
I’m packing for a trip to New York to see my son Zack then on to Washington DC for an education conference. It’s not the myriad details that need attending before I leave — arranging for the caregiver, planning out meals and stocking the refrigerator with enough food for a week — that leaves
I’m listening to Anne Tyler’s A Spool of Blue Thread in the car during my commute to work. “Oh, what a world, what a world,” says Abby to her future mother-in-law, Mrs. Whitshank. “That’s what the wicked witch says in The Wizard of Oz.” “In a way, it sounds kind of pitiful,” Mrs. Whitshank says. Those
My husband and I are in Mammoth for the long weekend. I was hoping it would snow so we could hole up in the condo next to a crackling fire. But the weather has been sunny and warm, in the 50’s, which made the late Friday night drive easy and clear of ice. I know
I am addicted to Candy Crush. And Candy Crush Soda and now Candy Crush Jelly. Why do I spend hours playing this simple game of matching three candies and getting excited about striped candies and candy bombs? It is not a game of skill or strategy and it doesn’t require a lot of thought. It’s
The past two weeks have been as colorful and full as the Arbol de la vida (artesenias) by Oscar Soteno Elias that I saw at the Museo de Arte Popular in Mexico City. It began when both boys came home for the holidays, filling our house with cheer as luggage, presents and books covered
Every year, my neighbors and I host a holiday gathering for our block. It’s a good time to catch up on news in the neighborhood where I have lived for 27 years. Jim, who is 95, slowly ambles up the driveway with his walker, his caregiver guiding him by his elbow. He sits on the
I went to Staples, the office supply store, to recycle used printer cartridges and to buy new ones. “You want HP 30A and Brother L61,” the sales clerk told me as she scanned the used cartridges. “They are over there, on the far aisle.” She gestured to an entire wall of toner cartridges, hanging
A year ago, I left my husband with the caregiver and went to Oaxaca, Mexico for Day of the Dead with friends and family. We were a convivial group of nine, ranging in age from 26 to 87. There were travel mishaps, missed connections, long periods of being stranded at airports, and a six
My husband has a hard time initiating speech after his brain injury. He will answer questions but doesn’t start conversations on his own. But sometimes, he talks in his sleep and in that semi-conscious state, his voice comes out loud and resonant, like it was pre-brain injury. “You are going to lose,” he said last
