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Gratitude

The Power of a Phone Call

As I write this, my dear husband is preparing another one of his delicious Thanksgiving dinners. He truly loves to cook, and I am regularly banished from the kitchen. I admit it—I’m incredibly spoiled. He is unquestionably my culinary hero. He’s also my telephone hero. In an age when so many, myself included, email and…

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Feeling Grateful

My students have been studying Clint Eastwood’s remarkable 2008 film, Gran Torino. We’ve been talking a lot about its themes. One is, of course, that “real” family is wherever you find it. The protagonist Walt is profoundly disappointed with his sons and families, and they don’t care much for him either. But, despite his long-standing…

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Gratitude Grows with Age

  There’s no question that aging involves losses—of loved ones, youthful energy, and physicality. But one thing I find I’ve gained as I’ve gotten older is the appreciation of life and the richness of everyday experiences. This past weekend, I was almost overwhelmed with a tremendous feeling of gratitude. It began with my annual trip…

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Real Men Eat Quiche– and Sometimes They Cry

The year our son Eddie was in third grade, I was on the dance faculty at the University of Oklahoma, while my husband held down the home front. Bruce Feirstein’s satirical Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche was a best seller at the time.  Ed thought the title was very funny, especially since he dashed home…

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Life:Beginnings and Endings

Wishing all of you a beautiful Thanksgiving! Holidays invariably put me in a reflective mood. Here’s what was on my mind during my travels yesterday: The train ride between New York and Boston is a mere four hours long, but the distance I travel between my son’s Manhattan household to my mom’s Cambridge apartment seems…

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Things Could Be Worse

In many ways, this has been a wonderful year for me. I’m so excited about my new YA novel coming out in January, IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU, and I continue to be crazy

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“Thankfuls” Trump the “Un-thankfuls”

When our sons were growing up, we used to have a tradition of passing a candle around the Sunday night dinner table and sharing what we felt thankful for. When it was his turn, our then seven year old piped up with, “Let me start with my un-thankfuls.” 

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