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I wonder, if I started interviewing celebrities, whether my writing style would change. After all, it seems every article I read about someone famous opens with a ridiculous account of the circumstances surrounding the interview. Years ago I read a piece about Julia Roberts. The author opened with an account of his lunch meeting with her, describing in overwritten detail where they sat and what she wore and what she ate. “Who cares?!?” I screamed at the magazine. I tried to...
And in the blink of an eye, it’s over. Summer 2019 is in the books. I know, I know. Summer will continue until the autumnal equinox marks its official end Sept. 23. But summer — for the purposes I discuss here — ended this week with the start of school. And this year — as it has every August since Ainsley was in preschool — its unofficial conclusion has taken me by surprise. We are somewhat prepared, with a large box of school supplies sitting in our living room. With any...
Has anyone seen my white go-go boots? Yes, I actually own white go-go boots. I acquired them a few years back when I had to dress up like a University of Illinois cheerleader for a scene in the Community Revue. I might need to wear them again in this year's show, and I have no idea where they are. They are not in the plastic bin that has been officially designated as The Spot to hold all revue and Halloween costume items. They are not in the guest room closet, which has been u...
When I heard the news, I was drawn to the bookshelf in the basement. There it sat, in pristine condition. My autographed copy of “Beloved.” The book was a gift years ago from a friend who managed to get me autographed copies of two of my three favorite novels (Graham Swift inscribed a copy of “Waterland” and Virginia Woolf, of course, is not available to sign autographs). Knowing Toni Morrison had died Monday made me want to hold the book in my hands and leaf through its pag...
I baked my first cheesecake under duress. Dan and I were newly married, living in an apartment in Wrigleyville, and we had invited his parents over for a Saturday night dinner. Being young and foolish, we had indulged in some merriment the night before. Overindulged, to be truthful. And so much of Saturday was spent recuperating on the couch. I don’t think I started working on dinner until about two hours before my in-laws were expected to arrive. Somehow, I managed to pull it...
