Clear sky
Clear sky
62.6 °F
August 30, 2016
River Reporter Facebook pageTRR TwitterRSS Search

River Muse

Rape culture

I was listening to a radio show soon after the news story about the conviction and light sentencing of Stanford freshman Brock Turner. A commentator referred to the phrase “rape culture,” saying, “I don’t even know what that means.” I don’t usually feel moved to talk to my radio, but this time I did.  Read more

Turning points

On Memorial Day weekend in 1977 my stepfather Mike drove off the side of the Saw Mill River Parkway in his Volvo station wagon after suffering a fatal heart attack on his way to our country house in Connecticut’s Litchfield Hills. My mother was still at her office in the Graybar Building on Lexington Avenue in a cavernous part of Manhattan in the shadow of Grand Central Station and the then Pan Am Building. He was 50 years old; she was 52.  Read more

Away again

I love to travel. Is that right? Well, not exactly. I don’t love airports, no matter how overstuffed with shopping opportunities they may be. It takes too long to get to them and the parking lots are confusing. How long-term is long-term parking? It took me a while to understand the meaning of the cell-phone lot.  Read more

Rebooting the future

There was a time, as a young mother, that I wondered if my children would ever know me beyond my role as their caregiver. As devoted as I was to them then, I knew that an important part of who I am was not being expressed through motherhood alone. At some point I had decided not to return to my previous corporate life as an advertising executive. The thought that my kids would never see me going to work in a suit didn’t bother me. It was when I imagined them not ever really knowing who I was, that I was able to give myself permission to explore my other drives.  Read more

Turtle Beach

In Costa Rica there are many beaches along the Pacific where sea turtles go to lay their eggs. It’s a popular tourist activity, and so I went with a friend recently. The beach our local guide took us to was spectacularly beautiful, even in the dark, which is when you must go if you want to see turtles defend against their mortality. Playa Grande’s waves glide evenly onto the golden sand beach spreading white foam that glows in the moonlight. Gigantic rock formations jut out of the sea.  Read more

Turtle Beach

In Costa Rica there are many beaches along the Pacific where sea turtles go to lay their eggs. It’s a popular tourist activity, and so I went with a friend recently. The beach our local guide took us to was spectacularly beautiful, even in the dark, which is when you must go if you want to see turtles defend against their mortality. Playa Grande’s waves glide evenly onto the golden sand beach spreading white foam that glows in the moonlight. Gigantic rock formations jut out of the sea.  Read more

A week in the country

Celebrating our 30th wedding anniversary last week, my husband and I managed to carve out a whole week together in the same place. That may not sound challenging for most couples, but I think it is more the norm for dual residents of city and country. He still has a business in the city and I am actively involved in the NACL Theatre in Highland Lake. I’m also planning a renovation of our 1969 kitchen in Narrowsburg. Most weeks we are separated for two or three days. Take note, new couples—this may be the secret to a long marriage!  Read more

‘For Auld Lang Syne’

The song sung the world over at New Year’s has taken on deeper meaning for me as I grow older among a few good friends. Before Christmas this year I travelled to Cape May to visit one of them. She had invited me and another friend from our old neighborhood in Manhattan for a weekend in her new digs on the Jersey shore. Her time there has not been easy.

“We two have paddled in the stream / From morning sun till dine / But seas between us broad have roared / Since long, long ago”  Read more

The Root and The Bloom

My daughter Callison leaves tomorrow, after a month-long visit from her new home in Butte, MT. She has been sleeping in her old bedroom and she expressed surprise at how little it had been changed in her nearly two-year absence. It could serve as my office, she noted, the lack of which I like to complain about. If the thought occurred to me at all, I dismissed it. There is too much “her” here. Her books and an old guitar, dozens of scarves and shoes and framed photos of lifelong friends. It is a waste of good real estate, I suppose, to use it only as a guest room.  Read more

The polka-dot scarf

Among the many things that remind me of Vera B. Williams is a polka-dot scarf. Light enough to wear in summer, bright blue with orangey-red polka-dots, it sits folded on a shelf at eye level in my closet. When I think of wearing it now, it seems too cheerful, and I pick a gauzy gray one instead. The polka-dots could be the pattern in one of Vera’s books, framing a child and her mother in a slightly disheveled but cozy living-room.  Read more

Syndicate content