How many good stories do we have? This is one of my best. It’s about finding a beautiful turquoise and silver necklace in a box of hand-me-downs. Probably 1954 or ‘55. That would make me thirteen or fourteen. Not yet in high school. The box came to us in Elko, Nevada from Mom’s aunt, Irene Stanworth, Canoga Park, California. The exotic necklace stayed in Mom’s top dresser drawer for the next fifteen years. In 1972, Mom and Dad made their first visit to Albuquerque.

The callithump in James’ brain rose and fell o’er his mental terrain. Who was the bride? Who was the groom? Who was the clown with a red balloon? Accustomed to eat his cereal with thoughts sere and funereal, why the epithalamium in his venerable cranium? Did he deserve unnerving joy? Was he a lexicographer's toy who could decathect grumpiness contemplating callithumpiness?

“If at eighty you're not a cripple or an invalid, if you have your health, if you still enjoy a good walk, a good meal…, if you can sleep without first taking a pill, if birds and flowers, mountains and sea still inspire you, you are a most fortunate individual and you should get down on your knees morning and night and thank the good Lord for his savin' and keepin' power…if you can be turned on by a fetching bottom or a lovely pair of teats, if you can fall in love again and

Letizia Mowinckel was an American diplomat’s wife who served as her friend Jacqueline Kennedy’s fashion scout in Paris and who procured the pink Chanel suit that came to symbolize the first lady’s resolve in the wake of her husband’s assassination Letizia Mowinckel died on Feb. 14 in Rome. She was 105. Though she never played style adviser for anyone else but Mrs. Kennedy, Mrs. Mowinckel maintained her own streamlined elegance well into her 100s, even after she moved into a

I don’t know what gave me the nerve to apply to Billy Collins’ poetry workshop in January 2014, part of the prestigious Key West Literary Seminar. The “best writers of our time,” boasts the brochure, “ join readers from all over the world for four days of readings, conversation, lectures, panel discussions, and parties that add up to one of today’s smartest and high-spirited literary gatherings.” Then there was Key West, a hallowed ground for famous writers: Ernest Hem

Becca Levy, PhD. William Morrow, 2022 Levy treats aging as a process shaped by what we believe about growing older, both individually and as a society. Ageism is real and, like any other prejudice, it hurt. The heart of the book is Levy’s research showing that negative age stereotypes harm our health, memory, mobility, and even longevity. When we absorb these attitudes, Levy argues, our bodies respond accordingly. The idea that beliefs can add or subtract years from our

Charlie McNab cowboyed for the Marble Ranches during the years Dad was the general manager at the headquarters in Deeth. We moved back to Elko in 1956, but I don’ t know how long Charlie had been a boarder at the Star before Dad became reacquainted with him. My folks loved the Star, well, who didn’t? They were particularly fond of Marguerite and Domingo Ozamas, the owners during those years. My guess is that sometime when they went down to the Star for dinner, Dad sp

Author’s note: This is a performance piece for five actresses ranging in age from 30-80. Although they represent various aspects of one person, they can and should be distinct both in appearance and in attitude. Staging for this piece is versatile. It could be a multi-media piece, with images projected upstage; it also lends itself to stylized blocking or choreography that allows the characters to interact with one another physically throughout. It also could be a play f

those dead leaves are alive, even when you know an October wind blows them low to the pavement. Even though you watch through a double-paned window and even though you’re known for your good sense, you can’t help but think they, I mean the leaves, are leaving your street in a hurry because they know something you can’t know.

You carry a well-packed U-Haul box to the car, trip over the hose, fall flat, arms out, as if desperate to thrust a gift on someone...

Sorry! A play for voices In the background playing softly, ” I’m Sorry ” by Brenda Lee RETTA: I met Robert Redford at the Golden Globes because he stepped on my foot. He stepped on my foot as he was walking by, and he was like, 'Oh, I'm so sorry!' And I was like, 'It's all right. Robert Redford can step on my foot.' NINA TASSLER : People step on my feet and I’m the one who says “ I’m sorry.” MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO: No one has the right to be sorry for himself

They say we come into the world afraid of snakes no matter whether venomous or not. Avoidance is the way we’re made although this truth...

for Charlie Arvin If you heard slurs, pauses, apologies for calling at supper, for calling at all, you might think you overheard the...

Pedilavium Bernard of Clairvaux: “Feet-washing is cleansing of those daily offenses which seem inevitable for those who walk ...

How will we know it’s a wrap? Time to take a bow and sigh, “It’s been grand and on behalf of the band, We’ll see you when the roads are...

Ted Kaczynski and others I’m so tired of disappointed men who sit in cabins pecking invectives on archaic Underwoods. Don’t even think of...

Each morning I mourn my reflection by asking a metaphysical question: Who is this woman watching me wash a crumpled face and brush...