What to wear? Are my roots showing? Do I need to get my mustache waxed? These were some of the things that I was thinking about in the days before my 30 year high school reunion. Then, of course, there were also these thoughts: Who’s going to show up? Will the women all be fat and...
I'm going home this weekend for my high school reunion.
I graduated 30 years ago.
Thirty years is a long time.
A really, really long time.
A few weeks before my first wedding, 18 years ago, I decided that I needed to have my makeup “done”.
I was working in midtown Manhattan, at Crain’s New York Business, and our office wasn’t too far from the Saks Fifth Avenue. (You know, the one on Fifth Ave.)
Normally, Saks wouldn't have been my go-to for...
I didn’t want to go to my friend Martha’s funeral last Friday.
Nobody wants to go to a funeral. Funerals are tough. They tear out your insides and leave you raw.
Especially this one.
My friend Martha died on Friday. Hit by a car when she left a store. And there really are no words to describe a loss like this. Words like tragic, horrible and awful aren’t enough.
I was a junior in college. He was a freshman. And he was my first real boyfriend.
(I know. I was a cougar, right? Ahead of my time.)
And he took my virginity.