At Age 10 I Am the Joy of Old Ladies Their husbands are dead. They’ve continued their little shingle retirements playing pinochle and canasta and driving their old Buicks, rusty, bulbous, and passé as our tired resort town with its bumper cars and motor courts and no reason to pull off the highway. I catch
Read MoreAfter 30 Years I Still Like the Idea of Lighting Up My husband says he’ll have his next one the day he turns 80, the same way he says he’ll ram the final idiot car in front of him the day he surrenders his keys. Old enough now for what-the-fuck fantasies of older men, we’re
Read MoreDuo Glide The seat was designed for comfort, for two. A resplendent late ’50s model, it was a full-dress with suicide shift and a booming V-twin bass rumble channeled through chrome pipes forty years before hip-hop. Sunny Sundays were not wasted. Winding coastal roads were made for Dad’s only day off, and I learned my
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