The house in Allentown is another I return to often in dreams and memories. Not all of it, because I’ve forgotten the look of the main rooms, but downstairs was …
My dad was a company man, which meant he expected to be with the same firm, Ingersoll Rand, from recruitment through retirement. That is not how it turned out, but …
If I plumb the fault lines of memory, tune into the timbre of remembered conversations, I can still hear Grandma P’s folksy Midwestern voice: “Well, sho’ enough!” she might say, …
Aside from the Dickermans, my parents’ other posh friends were the Troys, Barbara and Horace, who also lived in one of the grand three-story houses, theirs right across from the …
The first meal I remember cooking for any member of my family was cornflakes with water and pepper (not even freshly ground pepper!), mixed together on the “burner” of my …
Looking back across a chasm of more than six decades, trying to remember myself as a child, I suspect I may have been a handful. I know I had a …
There are many places I have lived that I revisit in dreams—my parents’ sprawling Upper West Side apartment, their tiny summer house in Montauk, my first apartment with my ex-husband, …
In our tidy suburban world, mommies stayed home and took care of the house, the pets, the children, the husbands. This was a few years before The Feminine Mystique, and …
Dede Coogan and I were friends for much of grade school, spending long hours in her third-floor bedroom with the cozy slanted ceiling and biking to classes together while I …
I spent my first ten years in a suburban paradise called Mountain Lakes, NJ, a 45-minute train ride from Penn Station in Manhattan. The daddies went to work every day; …
