My mother-in-law died late last night in her sleep, and I have little doubt that she’s now back in my father-in-law’s arms — resting, laughing, home, at last. Far too many condolences to count in 2012: when I lost my mother and my father and now Betty, who just amazed me as she quietly inked in crossword puzzles and recognized every single song they played at Regency name-that-tune events. With sadness felt, she’s made it a trio, just months before turning 90. But wait just a minute,  also on this same dark day, in flew a delicately addressed envelope from Paris — a...

I brought back a simple beaded necklace from Kona for my chief of staff, Eleanor.  Hard to find a more lovable and diligent bear in the world.  She sits on the beautiful wooden chair that Myles made years ago, and is in charge of seeing that my cell phone is properly charged and ready to go. Her communication skills melt my heart. And I have another bear called Eleanor, who I discovered while shopping for kitchen accessories.  She’s a traveling bear and sits right behind the driver’s seat, always strapped in, and ever-ready to provide loving company for my back seat passengers. ...

Chocolate Pudding: Memories for Father’s Day I wrote this back when my father turned 75. It could use a little editing — but sometimes you can’t find the time to prune the joys of life.  

www.phsc.ca/gilbert.html How many daughters can say that about their fathers, I wonder. Mine is now at rest, after a distinguished career and many hearty decades as a terrific father. His rich life ended on November 1, when he sped off to catch up with my most favorite artist, my mother. The photos he left us behind celebrate the great love he and my mother shared.

Well, it happened back in 1966.  Evelyn and I were 14, best friends at JHS 141 in Riverdale — just  a subway ride away from the city. We were both well-established in a lucrative trade.  Babysitting.  I suppose I was a bit busier, at the time,  thanks to five children who kept me hopping on Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday nights.  It was fun earning money the nicest way we could imagine, and almost as much fun spending it. One late Sunday afternoon, after touring Lord & Taylor,  we walked over to Franklin Simon,  just for a quick visit before we needed to head north for dinner.     We...

And what about Leonard Woolf?  Did he ever have a room he called his own?  Like my father now has…  After out-surviving the woman of his dreams, he’s quite at home in his very own two and a half  room apartment. Bill made it all come together so smartly — negotiating the purchase of some left-over furniture and then turning the place into a salon for my father’s large, striking photos — with a roomy old couch where residents and caregivers join the fun, while my father parks himself in his comfy easy chair by the phone, across from a red desk that everyone should...