I’ve moved households almost ten times over the years, acquiring driver’s licenses in New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, California, Puerto Rico, and Massachusetts.
But the move I made a week ago was different from all the rest.Read more
This just in . . .
My new book did not make the “100 Notable Books of 2017” list that will be published tomorrow in The New York Times.
In a way, I’m glad. Because some of the non-fiction books that made the list leave me scratching my head.Read more
My blog post today is a shameless, undisguised supplication for birthday salutations on Tuesday, October 17, when I mark “A Big One.”
Your well-wishes for the occasion may take any form you wish: phone calls, texts, emails, Facebook postings, UPS or FedEx deliveries.
Floral arrangements, gourmet food baskets, and show tickets are always appropriate. No puppies or kittens, please.
All I’m after is adulation.Read more
“Broken Vows” was painted by Philip Hermogenes Calderon in 1856. Now at the Tate Gallery in London, the painting, which was wildly popular in its time, captures a woman discovering that her lover is unfaithful. My friend, artist Johniene Papandreas, rendered her vision of this masterpiece (below), displayed in my Cape Cod home. I offer these thoughts to all who have suffered the abiding pain of infidelity.Read more
Feeding the fish at dusk yesterday was noticeably chilly. As I sat on the concrete bench at the bank of the cascading koi ponds, I saw that the fish are getting sluggish. The water temp is dropping and their sensitive bodies have begun to acclimatize to approaching winter. Their tiny hearts ultimately will slow to a single beat per minute as they hibernate under the pond ice and sleepily await spring. The miracle of their seemingly simple yet utterly complex existence moved me to this:Read more
Day’s end on Cape Cod Bay.
There’s something to be said about going it alone. With no one else partnering your life, you have both time without conversation and long spaces of silence. And in this dimension, you tend to notice things.Read more
Those of us who live year-round here on Cape Cod don’t pay much attention to spring, because we seldom actually see one. We maintain our winter rawness until at some point we start to sweat—and then we know it must be summer.Read more
One of the most popular features in The New York Times is called “Sunday Routine.” Each Sunday, the paper details the hour-by-hour activities that describe how a celebrity typically spends the day of rest.
It’s the first feature I turn to, even though the featured persons are uniformly and vomit-inducingly pretentious.Read more
In the several weeks since my wife passed away, so many well-intentioned friends have consoled me with, “If you ever want to talk . . .”
I would thank them, but in my heart I would mutter, “What’s to talk about? She’s dead.”
And I myself would die a little bit.Read more
Cape Cod stretches thirty miles out into the North Atlantic, where I live. Sea turtles love our Bay about as much as I do. Each spring, they work their way north from the Caribbean for summertime feeding.
But the outstretched arm of Cape Cod acts as a giant seine that catches them in a death embrace.Read more