Archive | Age Matters

Just Deserts Are Best Eaten With Fangs

This is a story of just deserts and middle age and I am not necessarily endorsing the role I play.

Just now I ran into a guy who was a real thorn in my side pre-Pandemic. He lives next door in what I call Melrose Place, an apartment building mostly populated by young, Italian-born guys who work at the cafe on the first floor. The man in question is actually three weeks older than me, though before the Plague it wasn’t evident from his demeanor.

He had recently left his wife, also our age, because–and this is a direct quote–“she did not make him feel like a man.” This man’s wife made most of the money in their relationship from her excellent art direction and so, upon leaving her, he had been serving espressos next door along with all the other cute boys because, yes, I regret to inform you that this man was quite cute. Handsome, actually, in that mournful, big-nosed, big-pawed way of some Italian men. In fact, I confess that when this man first began to serve coffee next door I found him undeniably attractive. Given my parentage, it is not surprising that I confuse intense self-pity for intense soulfulness in a certain sort of good-looking person. Continue Reading →

The Gorgeous Weirdness of Easter

Easter is a weird holiday for me–as it is for many others, no doubt. Growing up in Greater Boston with a Jewish father but not mother, the only people who thought I was Jewish were the gentiles. The Jews of our neighborhood literally lived on the other side of the tracks from my house– the right side, if you want to delve deeper into the metaphor, up on West Newton Hill–and with my blond hair and messy small house I no more felt I belonged there than in my Irish-Italian neighborhood, known as the Lake.

During bar mitzvah season and the high holidays I felt left out; on CCD Tuesdays (the Catholic kids’ equivalent of Sunday School) I felt equally left out. But the worst was Easter, when Jews were blatantly maligned by the local priests, some of whom were later outed as pedophiles in the Boston Globe’s Spotlight investigation.

Continue Reading →

My Saucepan, My Solace

The only regret I have about never getting married is I never got the wedding registry.

For a Capricorn I’m not much of a materialist, but the easiest way to my heart is great homeware. I have a suitor who buys me expensive kitchen appliances whenever he wants to get back in my pants. I won’t say whether it works, but mostly I’m limited to this writer’s income when it comes to cooking equipment. The bulk of my dishes are unmatched, chipped thrift store finds because I can’t bear the unseemliness of low-end, mass-produced sets. Continue Reading →

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy