About Elena Karplus

March 11, 2020 will be added to the collection of significant dates in my life. It will mark the first day of staying home alone protecting myself and others from the menace of Covid-19. I have written before about the trials and tribulations…
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After almost 11 months of isolation and watching the devastation this virus has created in our world, I gratefully accepted to take the Covid-19 vaccine when it was offered to my age group. It happened last Sunday…
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I spent the last day of the year on my own, as I have been since March 11th and the arrival of this pandemic. Dramatically different to my usual holidays when I am visited by my children, their families, and a parade of friends and relatives…
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Halloween was not celebrated in Argentina when I was growing up. The only dress-up holiday we took part in was “Carnival,” which takes place in February, right in the middle of the Southern Hemisphere’s summer…
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Miami has lovely malls and one of them, the Shops at Merrick Park, is a few blocks away from my house. I could walk there if I lived in a normal “walking” city, but the reality is that in this town, much like in Los Angeles, nobody walks…
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Not all hurricanes are created equal, but in Miami, we take all of them very seriously, especially since August 16, 1992, when Hurricane Andrew devastated our city. After being in self-isolation since March, it was alarming for me…
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It was my father who encouraged me to “write about it” when he gave me that first pink and turquoise diary when I was 10 years old. You know the kind, the ones with a little lock and key that hold a young girl’s many secrets…
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I’ve been a bit of an insomniac lately. Possibly because my life, like the lives of most citizens of the world, has been turned upside down by this pandemic. Nondescript days flow into nights of wondering how it got dark so fast…
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Yesterday, I was on the phone with my sister, who lives and is quarantined in Buenos Aires. She was complaining that so many different things around the house needed fixing. As she was telling me about her broken electric oven…
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I think of myself as a “post-menopausal artist.” I was a little over 60 when I surprised myself and started painting. I walked into an art supplies store and bought some acrylic paint, paper, and brushes…
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