My husband and I are at that age where if parents of our contemporaries haven’t yet passed away, they’re dying now. This past year, our sister-in-law’s parents both died, as did a dear friend’s mother. Saturday night, it was our turn. At age 93, my mother-in-law passed away. It wasn’t entirely unexpected. She’d been in…

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With a big college reunion coming up, we alums were asked to write an essay reflecting on our lives and college experience– really made me think about who I was as a college student and the directions my life took. Here’s what I wrote: Other than my summers teaching at Interlochen, I don’t think I’ve…

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I’ve been having one of those weeks where I felt like yelling out, “Bah, Humbug!” every five minutes. I’d broken out in some horrible itchy rash that hadn’t responded to the steroid meds the doctor assured me would kick in immediately. Not only do I look like crap, but I feel like total crap! Meantime,…

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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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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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As my mother grew older, she regularly scoffed at the suggestion that she should consider purchasing nursing home insurance. Indeed, the thought of my powerhouse mom shut away in a long care facility seemed preposterous.

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This past week, I took a professional development workshop on first aid for mental health, a program that originated in Australia and is now gaining widespread adoption in the states. It’s designed to teach skills in recognizing and responding to folks who may be in the early-stages of a mental health crisis

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My mother’s sister Margaret dropped dead at 84. She was feeding her cat. At the time, I didn’t appreciate what a terrific way to go this was. It was

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When I was twelve, my single parent dad remarried. I was ecstatic beyond belief. My new stepmom was warm, caring, and fun-loving. Best of all, she was the first parent I’d ever had who wanted the job. It didn’t matter that most of the other kids in seventh grade thought it was babyish to hang…

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