Detroit II: Food and Fine Art

Lynn is a natural caregiver and that means she nourishes, certainly the spirit and absolutely the body. She comes by it naturally. Her late father, Joe the Plumber, was a marvelous cook; Hungarian-kitchen lore plus the resources of Cleveland’s West Side Market meant...

Detroit I: The Gap-Toothed Smile

So many bad things are said about Detroit. Television programs show a city that appears to be abandoned and newspaper headlines focus on criminal proceedings against elected officials and a devastated economy. What I found was a place of broad straight avenues...

Ode to Joy

Monday was my third guitar lesson and the JazzMan, my teacher, introduced me to the third string and the notes G and A. The first week I had three notes: E, F and G. My assignment was an exercise that familiarized me with those notes, up and down and changing back and...

The Sounds of Almost Music

I remember playing the guitar as a teenager. I don’t know where it came from. Had my mother bought it? During her lengthy residence at McLean Hospital, several members of the Taylor family, most notably James, and Ray Charles all sought refuge there. She became quite...

Honey, there’s a fawn in the astilbe!

This morning was no different from most. I woke at 6:30, rose and dressed; sleeping was over and there was much to do to prepare for Father’s Day forty-eight hours away. Morning tasks are always the same. I started the coffee, mixed my morning yogurt with something...

The Green, Green Green of Home

I suspect that it may be true that chocolate milk comes from chocolate cows. It has been a miraculous few days of pleasant temperatures, light winds, and sky and clouds as brightly blue and white as Delft pottery. Last week temperatures rose on the shoulders of...