“I can’t stop,” I said, choking out the words between my tears. “I just can’t…” Erotic attraction had been a big part of our lives since we met the year before at the beginning of my senior
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In Honor of Our 50th Anniversary May 18, 1968 – 2018 By the time I was twenty, I was used to my mother living in a different country every year, knew what classes to take at Cornell,
Read more →“These aren’t marijuana plants,” the policeman said to his partner. He bent down to inspect a second tray of tomato seedlings I was growing outside and frowned. “These aren’t marijuana plants either.” He slowly shook his head with disappointment. They searched the outside of our
Read more →Anthony Damiani soon realized that the students who had gathered around him to learn meditation and philosophy needed psychological understanding. It was the late 1960s. We sat on lumpy cushions on the floor in the American Brahman Bookstore in Ithaca while
Read more →My friend Gail stopped me at the check-out at Wegman’s Grocery a few weeks ago. She beamed love at me and told me she’d just bought another copy of my book to give as a gift. Of course, this makes
Read more →We met at the beginning of my senior year in 1966. I was a government major at Cornell focusing on South East Asia and China. The more war protests Vic and I attended and the more sunsets we
Read more →My flight home from Florida was threatened by another winter storm on the east coast. How I miss my husband Vic at times like this. “It’s in the hands of nature and United Air,” he would say, “so we
Read more →“I need a hinge for an exterior door,” I tell the man at Agway. “It’s this way,” he says, waving his hand in the direction he’s walking. He’s a thick man, muscular and short. He wears a
Read more →In 1967, Vic persuaded me to lie in a sleeping bag on the cold ground in March. We held each other while waves of green, yellow, and pink tinted the sky—a divine aurora borealis lightshow. It was
Read more →Don’t get pregnant and get good grades. When I was in high school, these rules were unspoken, but I knew what mattered to Mom. After Dad died when I was fourteen, Mom worried about restarting her own
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