My son is fast. He talks a million miles an hour. Moves with bursts of energy. When he’s excited about something, his ideas spill out of him so quickly that I almost have to follow behind with a bucket just to catch a couple. As he’s matured and gotten to know himself better, he’s learned how to corral that energy when needed. At his school orientation the other day, where...
I fell in love with Wendy Whalen at the end of her 30-year career as a principal dancer at New York City Ballet. Even though I lived in Manhattan while she danced with the company, somehow I never knew of her celebrity. Instead, I discovered her by sheer luck, years and years later, while madly chasing down an orchestral piece by Max Richter called On The Nature of Daylight. If...
I love me a good odd number. Like 25. So easy to add, and multiply. The typical age by which the brain becomes fully developed. The only good coin. Christmas day. My son’s birthday. And zipadeedoodah, drum roll, please, the midpoint of this midlife writing adventure. Yup, I’m standing at the top of the mountain, looking out at the view, thinking that the climb to the summit wasn’t so bad,...
A few months before I moved to Los Angeles I had back surgery. A bulging, cranky disc between my L4/L5 vertebrae suddenly ruptured scattering fibrous shrapnel throughout my spinal canal and leaving me unable to walk. The pain was so intolerable that I pounded scotch just to keep my wits about me for the two weeks it took my doctor to recognize that I hadn’t merely pulled a muscle. An...
There’s so much noise around turning 50. Does one deny being a half-century old? Embrace the achievement? Fight like the devil to turn back the clock? Without question, this age instigates a new chapter with bigger stakes and a growing sense of urgency. Given our youth-obsessed culture and my own compulsion to stay young, I wondered how honestly I could write about this milestone. Fifty on Fifty is my experiment.
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