CAPPY HALL REARICK Happy Thanksgiving to All Our U.S. Friends Mayflower Captain Myles Standish is the reason for holiday stress. In August, he invited the Indians to a Labor Day party, got them roaring drunk hoping they would tell him where the wild turkeys hung out. Promising more firewater, he then talked them into teaching …
Georgia Faye is seated at my kitchen table scrutinizing my face as if she’s on a mission from God. “Don’t you think it’s about time a nip and tuck?”
I learned recently that a dear man, an old poet I once knew, had died. This morning I woke up remembering the day I met him.
When it comes to reinventing herself, Jill could write a how-to book. Among other things, she is into metaphysics, so she sees her frequent metamorphoses as normal. She calls it continuing education; I call it neurotic cramming.
Some of my friends are fighting a hard battle with depression. “We’re tired of sheltering in place,” they say, “sick of the isolation. There's nothing to look forward to except another day just like the day before.”