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Our guidebooks described it as a city swathed in gray. This week, that observation of Paris isn’t a myth, as many of our days have seen rain; observing the weather, I joked to my spouse Jonathan that if it weren’t for the language, we could easily imagine ourselves in London. Though it usually passes quickly, we weren’t…
Continue reading“Bath?” exclaimed the bulbous figure behind the glass at Paddington Station. “Why would you want to go to Bath?” There was no mistaking his tone: we were about to embark on a pointless day trip. Suppressing my mounting embarrassment, I pursued his innuendo in an attempt to gauge the extent of our folly. He blew me…
Continue readingI want to be alone. Not surprisingly, in Manhattan I crave occasional solitude now as I did growing up a middle child in a midwestern family of twelve; back then my refuge was our backyard where, under an Ohio sky, I’d read in the shade of my mother’s rosebushes or unearth insects from the moist soil. It was the…
Continue readingLisa Moore, Joe’s Pub My first crush was on a pianist. Mildred Adams was a walking china doll whose pigtail braids draped her shoulders like a shawl. At various elementary school assemblies, sporting her delicate demeanor and rhinestone-studded princess glasses, her piano skills inspired jealousy and awe in her peers. Later in life, I realized that my “crush”…
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