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The finest line
When is it abuse, and when is it guided introduction to the mysteries of life? When is it “criminal,” and when is it a rite of passage? There’s a fine line between the…
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Letter to my son and his lady friend after a long and late night with
Dear Max and Hannah (please share this with her; I don’t have her e-mail), We’re alive. Up, finally, and pouring coffee to the veins. Arrived home at 11:30, then decompressed with whiskey and…
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Exit signs
My dog and I were out in the circle early this morning, when my neighbor emerged from her house with her dog, Lucky. Jane had been laid off several months earlier from her…
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If you haven’t, by all means take time to read Alice Munro
I’m retired. Most of my time is mine to use as I wish. Odd, then, that I find (or carve out) so little uninterrupted time to just sit and read. I love to…
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Humbug meets a manchild from Santa land
Until Raven commented on my buffness, remarkable to him for someone in other respects to be obviously pushing well past 60, he was just another gym customer. His unsolicited compliment opened the door…
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I gave my card to Debby
Not little Debby, the face of bad pastry. Debby, the Croatian immigre to Montreal, the barista who saw me standing outside her little coffee shop and brought a treat out for our dog…