Our Sunday morning ritual—disrupted for months by Covid—has, thankfully, again become routine. Here’s how it goes. At about 8 am, I leave our home for a neighborhood walk. Less inclined toward early morning perambulation, Joe fires up the Keurig for a cuppa and waits for the New York Times to be delivered. When it arrives, …
My Uncle Bob passed away last week. And my Uncle Kenny died on New Year’s Day. I am now officially uncle-less. And nearly aunt-less. Aunt Pat left us five years ago, six years after my dad. One aunt, Corky, remains. My indomitable mother, Corky’s older sister, turns 97 this fall, God willing. The elders of …
After a fourteen-month, Covid-prompted hiatus, I’m back in the pool. The pandemic abruptly closed our neighborhood community center, where, for the seven years we’ve lived in Portland, I either swam or practiced yoga every weekday. Once under quarantine, I took up yoga with Adriene on YouTube. But alas, there was no online substitute for swimming …