Walking around Nantucket yesterday brought up emotions in me that date back to my childhood. My reaction to seeing a certain type of well to do men and women, dressed in elite preppy styles, full of self-confidence and sureness, implying a closed exclusive world, is not good. It makes me cringe inside and feel uncomfortable. It also encourages my contempt. Continue reading
The paradox of who I am today and the functioning of my body at fifty-eight years old is not what I once expected of growing older. I began to come out in my early fifties after years of hiding who I was and trying to tamp down my attraction to men. Finally when I come out, full force, my body no longer works the way it once did. Continue reading
One of my earliest memories of my aunt was when I was three or four years old. She would tell me stories about a fairy named Matilda that lived in a thimble under her bed. She would talk in a high childlike voice as she explained that she would feed Matilda strawberries and cream every morning and they would drink tea from little tiny teacups and have all kinds of adventures. Continue reading
My aunt died a few weeks ago. She had been in the memory unit of an assisted living facility, and for months, wavered between being alert and hallucinating. She died quietly, lying down after a meal, and passing away. Continue reading
