So many years ago, long before CD’s went on sale, when not-yet-dinosaurs roamed across Humphreyville, as it was once known, we voted for our class song. Joni Mitchell’s classic has never lost its pull, and a day before my son heads back for his last semester, here it is again. The Circle Game by Joni Mitchell    Yesterday a child came out to wonder Caught a dragonfly inside a jar Fearful when the sky was full of thunder And tearful at the falling of a star Then the child moved ten times round the seasons Skated over ten clear frozen streams Words like when you’re older must...

“Oh, you’ll love this tea,” my friend shouted from the kitchen, while I waited in her living room.  I’d offered to help, but, no, she said it was a very special brew and she didn’t want any distractions.  “What kind is it?” I called back, hoping for a hint of what was to come.  “You’ll tell me,” she shot back in a way that let me know that my tea tasting talents ranked high on her list.  “I had the tastiest Darjeeling, before I left for work.  Wouldn’t surprise me if the leaves had been hand-dried.”  Her seclusion...

In 1968, a teachers strike in NYC closed the school doors for just enough time for me to get knee-deep in my first political campaign.  While my classmates met regularly to tackle SAT words, trig problems, and new Spanish conjugations — with my parents’ blessing, I found my way to the local O’Dwyer/McCarthy HQ  and tagged on to visibility efforts across the city.  I gave out flyers, sized up delis to see if there were enough people to merit a quick visit from the candidate, and wove through a standing room only fundraiser at  Madison Square Garden collecting contributions.  36...

It couldn’t have been more than a 15 minute walk from the nine story apartment building where I grew up.  Waiting for us on cold days and on the hottest days, too   —   It was by far the loveliest meeting spot I’ve ever known.  Pavers encircled the water and created a very walkable perimeter for celebrating joys and leaving behind the rest.  Leaves from tall trees fell on the pond  — our pebbles skimmed across to the other side.  Indian Pond belonged to all of my friends and not a single soul more.   A year or so ago, I read about a developer who envisioned opportunity...

For the longest time, our gym was less-traveled.  Trainers strained to look both occupied and available at the same time.  My husband had his choice of the best lockers and had lots of machines at his command.  The ellipticals upstairs looked like theater seats long before the show began.  And as I’ve re-discovered, when you don’t have to wait,  you forget how to wait.  Not a good thing when a local chain of gyms  goes under and suddenly your old gym becomes well-traveled.   And the tranquil stretching oasis gives way to limbs that land far too close, and the treadmill just below...

I really didn’t want to write a story about how an Oregon entrepreneur automated shipping tariffs.  But International Thomson/Brandon’s Shipper & Forwarder thought an interview might dredge up info to help them decide whether  to invest in his company or not.  WMB insisted on read-backs (to be sure he wasn’t misquoted) and though they weren’t standard practice at Brandon’s, I reluctantly agreed.  Writing about computers was new territory for me, but WMB liked the story, and when he was visiting his NY office, we met near Tall Ships in the World Trade Center and got...