All in Personal essay
Seventy-year-old Richard Rossner was fully vaccinated when he went to a Los Angeles club to hear his son’s band play. He was careful to social distance and didn’t think he was vulnerable. That was Tuesday night; by Saturday morning, he couldn’t get out of bed. It was Covid. Then his wife, who was also vaccinated, got it. Now that they no longer test positive, they are grateful, but the after-effects leave Richard tired and cautious.
Have you spoken to any immigrants or refugees lately? In this essay, executive editor Judith Fein encourages you to reach out, if you haven’t already, and shares how your heart will be opened by the contact.
When Cliff Simon’s cherished vintage lamp is damaged, his distress leads him to the Japanese art of Kintsugi and the point of view that something can break and still be beautiful, and that, once repaired, it is stronger at the broken places.
In the film Citizen Kane, the viewer learns that the murmured word on his deathbed: “Rosebud” relates to Kane’s last moments of childhood innocence and happiness. Inspired by this flashback effect of memory, in this essay, Cliff Simon investigates the memories he might recall at the very end of his life. What will be that most important thing, moment, person, event of his life?
When a group of study-abroad students in France embarks on a spontaneous long-distance walk to Omaha Beach, they discover that though they may have little in common, the walk was the same.
Regular hikes in nature are an essential component of Nancy King’s well-being. Being in nature helps her to connect to herself and to heal the wounds of childhood trauma. But winter hikes, slogging through deep snow, one foot in front of the other, are exhausting. What kept her going this past winter was finding something she’d never seen before—snow and ice hearts. The more she hiked, the more heart stones she saw, and the more she saw, the more her heart healed.
No one knows when we’ll be traveling again. So for now, while we’re still staying close to home, lifelong gardener BJ Stolbov provides his suggestions for growing a vegetable garden, an exciting adventure right in your own yard.
Cliff Simon blamed his mother for much of his discomfort and unhappiness, recounting her faults and his wounds, over and over, and with great humor to hide his sadness. But now, in retrospect, with the insights and compassion of age, he revisits the relationship and his role in it.
Maureen Magee grew up as an only child. The word ‘family’ had no great, extended meaning for her. But now, after seven decades of life, she finds herself seized with a gripping kind of curiosity about her Dad’s family and has begun writing letters to the uncles she never knew.
For Bobbi Lerman, a visit to a graveyard is an opportunity to stop and sit and listen to the stories of the dead. In this essay, Bobbi shares the experience of communing with the dead at Isola di San Michele, the island just across the water from Venice, Italy, that houses the city’s cemetery.
Can charity be as contagious as COVID? This was what Marlan Warren pondered during her walk home one morning after a surprising encounter with a man on the street in her East Hollywood neighborhood.
Bringing home travel purchases is an age-old tradition and one that Michael and Laurie Vander Velde have passed on to new generations with personal significance and a story behind it.
As Cliff Simon approaches seventy, he sees that his face resembles that of the father who died when Cliff was fifteen. He wonders about the Polish immigrant father he never really knew, whether the feeling of being out of place in the world was inherited from him, and if his dad ever thought about such things.
The virus may deprive Nancy King of friends’ visits and hugs, eating in restaurants, and all manner of social activities, but it can’t separate her from gluten-free, dairy-free, soy-free, nut-free, bean-free mint chocolate chip and coffee chocolate ice cream.
A trip to the dentist wasn’t among the 2020 adventures Dorty Nowak was looking forward to. But narrowed travel horizons have offered fertile territory for introspection about matters large and small—including, dental floss.
To lower her anxiety over the past few months, Nancy King has found solace in solitary hikes along Santa Fe trails and extra time to purrdle, a word she’s coined during the pandemic, with her dying rescue-cat Mia.
For many, knowing where they come from can provide a deep sense of community. For Elyn Aviva, however, this period of global political chaos and pandemic has revealed an ancestral history of seeking refuge from war, oppression, and persecution. Could this explain the innate terror and compulsion to flee she experiences in times of crisis?
When Denise Kusel decided it was time to give away her sweet, old Martin D-28 Herringbone guitar that had traveled with her for 55 years, she picked up the phone and called Billie Blair, who had been her boss at “The New Mexican” when she was Pasatiempo editor and a columnist. Billie always had answers.
For years Nancy King resisted buying a smartphone. One day, to celebrate her 84th birthday, she ordered one. A flashback to childhood abuse and the resulting PTSD reactions triggered by the phone’s arrival wasn’t the journey into modern technology she’d anticipated.
Cliff Simon has carried memories and told stories about his family ever since he was an unhappy teenager. There’s just one problem:, they weren’t true.
