“Mom, what do you think about dating? We’re talking about it in class.”
Online class, that is, which my 14-year-old daughter Brooke attends sitting at her desk in her darkened bedroom, surrounded by candy wrappers, dirty socks, and a few stuffed animals from childhood.
Meanwhile, I’m at my desk two doors down the hall. Brooke’s 8 a.m. text caught me off guard. Who was the 8th grade PE teacher asking such a ludicrous question to my teenage daughter about dating so early?
After taking a deep breath, I voice-texted Brooke a bumbling reply that avoided answering her question. “I’d be…
Staring at my rigid and deformed left thumb and the apple I wish I could slice, I remind myself to be patient. Slicing, opening jars, and buttoning clothes will have to wait, like dinner parties, live theater and my daughter’s field-hockey games. If all goes well, my functional left thumb and the Covid vaccine will be available by summer.
One morning in January 2019, after dropping my daughter at school in New York City, I was struck by a large SUV and sent flying onto the pavement. …
originally published 6/1/2020
by Bridget Baiss
Date nights haven’t been easy during the pandemic.
But, my husband and I desperately needed to feel part of the world we knew, remind ourselves who we are — or at least were. We also needed a respite from the noisy kids, moody teens and hyperactivity of our virus-induced By commune.
In late March, with our 13-year-old daughter, my husband Sean and I rented a car, left New York City and joined another couple and their five children at their family house in New Hampshire’s White Mountains to wait out the lockdown. …
(Originally published at https://www.unionleader.com on May 18, 2020)
I’ve always had a negative impression of superstores: cold, impersonal, dull. Everywhere I’ve lived, (San Francisco, London, Seattle, now New York City) I’ve mostly shopped local and tried to support small businesses. Overall, I’ve led a very sheltered, urban retail life.
Before relocating in mid-March to our COVID-escape-NYC house in rural New Hampshire, I had never set foot in a Walmart. Much to my surprise, I discovered that a superstore could be both human and comforting.
Up here in the White Mountains, Walmart is king — with the state-run New Hampshire Liquor…
There will be fewer April Fools’ pranks this year.
They were fun when I was in grade school. After that, I usually forgot this mock-holiday and judged it as a juvenile. Maybe I’m a Bah Humbug.
This April 1st is very ill-timed. The light-hearted holiday has little meaning on its own anyway. April Fools’ Day has vague origins in Western Europe reaching back to the Middle Ages. In the last couple of centuries, it was practiced in France known as “poisson d’avril” (April Fish) — a prank played on the unsuspecting by attaching a paper fish to their backs on…
A week ago, the airlines announced confidently they could stay financially aloft during the virus crisis. Yesterday, they asked the US Government for a 50 Billion Dollar bailout package.
Flights are now almost empty and more and more being canceled. Even seasoned travelers are facing the reality that it’s nearly impossible to stay out of corona-range on a flight and in an airport.
How quickly our routine can change. Just last week, I confidently ventured from NYC to San Francisco to visit my healthy 83-year-old dad to help him with some long overdue house projects.
Though apprehensive about the possible…
The choice to flee New York City and quarantine with friends.
After all the joking with our good friends — “If things get bad, we’ll just pack up and go to the cabin in New Hampshire” — it’s actually happened.
Over the last two weeks, our group texts have become less joking and more operative. It started with, “If they close the schools we’ll go.” A week later, “When they close the schools…”. Then yesterday, “School’s closed. I’m reserving a car now before Hertz runs out of cars in midtown Manhattan and suggest you guys do the same.”
In the 1980s, probably when I was a sophomore or junior in high school, the fanny pack burst onto the scene. It was “in”. Everyone had one — or wanted one.
I had a very, very special one that my mother bought me. No, not one of those ordinary tough, fabric ones you bought at The North Face or Macy’s. My fanny pack was black leather with gold hardware and two little, gold dangling Saks Fifth Avenue emblems to pull the zipper pockets. It made me feel like hot s*$#!. I’d swing it around my waist and, depending on my…