Three Stories
My son, Jason,called the other day and jokingly said that I didn\’t keep myword.
My son, Jason,called the other day and jokingly said that I didn\’t keep myword.
Many of us who said, \”Till death do us part,\”never went the distance. Gary and Barbara did. They were a great lovestory. The fact that her parents didn\’t approve of their marriage,because he was a saxophone player, made it all the morepowerful.
My brother called the other day and asked whetherI had noticed how many people are putting things behind them andmoving on.
\”Does that mean they have no baggage?\” Iasked.
\”Well,\” he said, \”either people have no baggage oran invisible semitrailer is following them around.\”
When I was warned by Israeli friends that the El Al experience would be unique, they never told me about being crushed between two Ivy League men on a midnight flight to Tel Aviv.
I keep a folder of newspaper items that fall intotwo categories — the informative and the outrageous.
My years inSanta Cruz are measured by the Jewish calendar. Through a coincidenceof dates, I arrived in 1995 the night before erev Rosh Hashanah.
When I first saw Martha on television, she usedexactly three sheets of The New York Times Business section to make aroaring fire. I considered myself an expert fire maker, but I neededthe entire Calendar section of the Los Angeles Times. I watchedMartha and took notes.
Nothing was reserved for the sacred in my family.And everything was subjected to trial by humor. My grandmotherSarah\’s seven children formed a family-circle club and named it theGarnet Group — after the gemstone associated with January, the monththey decided to hold the first meeting more than four decades ago.