He always wanted children. Did he know when he married a mother of one that she didn’t want more? I don’t know. He’s wonderful to his stepson. Do I imagine a look of longing in his eyes? I don’t know.
November 30, 2006
November 28, 2006
313/365 The Contractor From Hell
I hired him. He hired the Three Junior Stooges. They stole major equipment from me. Tried to steal more, but couldn’t get it out the door. The remodel fell apart four months after completion. He’s in jail (for something else).
November 27, 2006
312/365 Dr. Snot
This veterinarian has retired—thank God! He was marked “emergency use only” in my Rolodex. One of those emergencies involved putting down our beloved Shepherd. On top of grieving for her, we had to put up with his nasty attitude.
November 26, 2006
311/365 Professor B.
His class was non-interactive—a straight 60-minute lecture. I ranted to my husband, “Why do I need to learn about the stupid French Revolution, anyway?” I still don’t know why, but I know this: I was riveted to those lectures.
November 25, 2006
310/365 Caroline
She was the first of what would be many much younger friends. We met in college when we were 19 and 43. Beautiful and smart, she designed her own major: music criticism. We played and sang together at my Steinway.
November 24, 2006
309/365 Jimmy
Jimmy’s sick, and he knows it. What will become of all his fine hobby equipment? He wants so badly for his son to inherit it proudly. His son tries to be interested, but only halfheartedly. It’s really not his thing.
November 23, 2006
308/365 William
William can rattle off the language of the numismatists because he is one. “It’s my passion,” he tells me, explaining that he’s studied coins all his 21 years. His father, the most fervent collector I’ve ever known, would be proud.
November 22, 2006
307/365 Cammie
When Cammie was six, my 14-year-old son sat her down and taught her the fine points of camouflage patterns. She hung on his every word. Now she’s an art major in college. Will she incorporate camo into her future designs?
November 21, 2006
306/365 Gloria
Topping six feet and model-thin, she must have been a striking woman once. Maybe 30 years ago. Today, in what appears to be her 1970s wardrobe, she still makes entrances and poses. Then, getting no attention, she goes home.
November 20, 2006
305/365 Chris
She sits at her table in the dark hours of morning and hand-writes a long spiritual, philosophical, loving Christmas letter to her friends. I can almost see her house. She can surely see mine, for it used to be hers.
