Oh, me. What have I done? It was a typical Monday morning. I woke up about 6, crawled out of bed and walked directly to the kitchen to get my coffee started. While it brewed, I parked myself in front of my computer and started scrolling through my clients’ social media
I travel on a very limited budget. The down side of that is I seldom discover the art of fine dining in the places I visit. The good side is that I often end up sitting in a park, eating street fare, amongst the local color. Or in some hole-in-the-wall
I’ve always hated history. Ever since the 7th grade at Sidney Phillips, when my social studies teacher made us memorize an exhaustive list of wars and Louises with Roman numerals, I tuned out. I know history is important, but its not my thing. I’m much more curious about events and
Not good. Four days in this intriguing city is way short of what it’ll take to really see it. We had just gotten settled in our apartment. With the front windows open, we were enjoying the breeze and watching the sun set over the Sea of Marmara when we heard
“Con usted…no queremos mujeres feas.” Between Michele and I we had just enough knowledge of the Spanish language to figure out what the sign said. “Nobody likes ugly women.” That’s what started our magical mystery tour of the day. It began as my sister, Michele, and I started out by heading
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was sitting in the seat directly behind my Dad on the left side of the plane, the engines roaring so loud I could barely hear what he was saying to me. He was piloting a C-124 from El Salvador to Panama City.
“An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break. May you be open to each thread that comes into your life . . . and may you weave them into a brilliant
Just got home after three quick days in New York. There’s so much to write about, so many stories I want to share. But I was particularly touched by one late in the day, just as I was about to leave for the airport. I’m dying to tell you about
It’s nearly 2:00am. I am just settling in after an exhausting day of shooting. Being back in New York feels great. I started out early this morning by visiting my old Saturday haunt, the outdoor market at Abingdon Square. It was a bit chilly but that didn’t seem to deter the
It’s 10:28pm. I just got back from my first writing class. There were 16 or 17 of us taking the class. A few young ones, but most ranging from 40 to 60 years old. We went around the room introducing ourselves, one by one telling a snippet of the memoirs we
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