Nostalgia

Lockdown has afforded all of us an opportunity to reflect on who we are, what our priorities are, and what we’d like to change in our lives. I have some good friends here in London, for example, who just got married after being together for 32 years…

If you’re of a certain age, perhaps you learned cursive writing, also known as script, a way of writing that’s almost extinct. It’s not being taught in most schools anymore, something I find disappointing. I love my cursive writing because I find it so much faster…

Whether it’s the fact that we’re coming out of the pandemic or just my mood this summer, I’ve been spending a lot of time poring over old photos and reminiscing about some of the best summers of my childhood. The summer of 1969 really stands out…

For most of my life, I looked at family photos as most others did – they were little snippets of time. I would pick up a few envelopes of prints and flip through the 20 or 36 photos inside, still safely ensconced in their designated sleeve right next to their…

Last weekend I decided to tackle my closet and get rid of old clothing that no longer fit or would never be worn again. I actually enjoy this task. My closet gets a make-over and I donate things that are still in good shape. Sometimes I find things that…

Whenever I am introduced to someone and they ask me “Where are you from?” and I respond that I was born in Argentina, one of the first things that springs out of their mouths is “Do you dance the tango?” to which I hate to reply, “Well, not really…

I watched my in-laws’ tidy bedroom closets fill with suitcases and clothes after each of their parents died. Add to this the odd table, chairs, hutches, and antique Victrola that migrated to the basement family room, which transformed into a maze…

Do you wish you could preserve your footprints on this planet by saving your stories? Do you often wish you knew more about a relative who has passed away? How many times have you heard someone say, “There are so many questions I should have asked”?

My first car was a 1973 Pontiac Firebird, candy apple red with a white roof and a black interior. My father gave it to me for Christmas in 1972 as a reward for my pending college graduation the following May.

There is a certain truth you must realize when writing a memoir: You are the central character in the story, therefore you must write about who you are. You cannot assume that the reader knows you, even if they are a close relative…