Rich and I decided to marry when he finished college. I was a junior, 20 years old. In Massachusetts at that time, age 21 was the age of consent for marriage. If both parents of the girl didn’t give permission, couples could not marry before the age of 21. I became an emancipated minor to marry! Rich had to be declared my guardian. He had to approve my housing, and the classes I took as a senior in college. I could not own property or have my own bank account. Rich’s name had to be on every legal document. My name could not be on the title of the car or on the lease for our apartment. Rich had to...

You were the whip cream on my ice cream sundae, the effervescence in my soda, the shine in my mirror in my seventh-grade world. You were my English teacher in 1955. Your class was my escape from an ugly life at home. You greeted us at the door each day. Your smile exuded happiness. We were spellbound by you, Miss Solomon. You cherished us, loved teaching us, and even though you were young and inexperienced, you were a natural in the classroom.

In the doctor’s office waiting room a voice called my name and said, “Your provider will see you now.” Will it be a nurse? X-ray technician, first year intern? acupuncturist? A volunteer who offers water and snacks before my appointment? A physician? It could be any of these.

The science supervisor’s parting words were: “And, by the way, when you arrive at the airport make sure to hire a town car, with a driver who is willing to walk you into the school. I chose a school central to the other high schools, but unfortunately, it is not safe in the parking lot when school is over.

My heart stopped. Tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t swallow or speak—Columbine still fresh in my mind—thinking how she was only five years old and that she knew about school shooters. Stay calm I said to myself—hard to believe that this tiny, spirited bundle of enthusiasm, buckling her car seat, had learned…

I boarded the plane in Denver, already delayed due to heavy snow on the runways. De-icing the plane was next. Green fluid poured down my window. I looked at my watch. Would I make it to Chicago in time to catch my connection to Newark, and another connection to Rhode Island?

Want to go to Prohibition-era Montana? The Pacific Northwest? Alaska? New Zealand? Modern-day Los Angeles? WWII London? This book will take you on an unforgettable and exhilarating flight you will cherish.

Did you ever see something so exquisite that tears welled in your eyes? If not, go to Crested Butte, Colorado during the summer, preferably in early July. The immensity of meadows filled with enormous numbers and varieties of wildflowers took my breath away.

How is it possible for the pandemic to have a silver lining? In 2020 all of us stayed home hunting for the best streaming series, searching for a tasty new recipe, walking our dogs endlessly around the neighborhood, ordering boxes and boxes and more boxes of stuff from Amazon, and reading our days away.

What did you read in 2020? Reading was one of the ways I escaped my unpredictable world. I was looking for distraction, a way to shake off thoughts of COVID-19, the news, and the hope to find some joy. For me, the most meaningful book for 2020 was: What Keeps Me Standing Letters from Black Grandmothers on Peace, Hope, and Inspiration by Dennis Kimbro.

The weight of making my own decisions hung heavy. Nerves rang: Can I really do this? The course catalogue was overwhelming. I was a hummingbird darting from flower to flower. Which one has the best nectar? I settled into Biology, Physics, World History, Botany, Comparative Anatomy, Advanced Freshman English, and German.

During the years that followed graduate school I had the opportunity for varied employment: a science and language arts teacher, various part-time writing posts, a full time position with the US Fish and Wildlife Service, and for more than 30 years, coauthor of a biology book for a major publisher. Racial disparity and injustice for minorities and women still existed in the occupations mentioned above.

I am a woman with white privilege. I have the privilege of living my life not conscious of my skin color. I grew up in the 50’s in a small country town in western Massachusetts where there were few people of color. I knew that certain words were demeaning…

In the cafeteria where seniors ate lunch together, Michael, a promising concert violinist with many winning competitions already under his belt, said to the young man beside him, “Don’t you think we should be planning what we should do for the Senior Prank?”

Where is the virus hiding?On my grocery bags? My carrots? My cereal box?Will its tiny hooks take hold in my hair?Under my fingernails? Will I breathe it in?

Stop whatever you are doing and get the book titled The Goldfinch. Get it at the library. Get it at the bookstore. Order it online. Listen to it on Audible, or for free on Axis 360. Listen on any device you own. This is the best book you will ever read.

Want a new delicious sweet and tangy side dish for your Christmas dinner table? Try the Finnish recipe for lanttulaatikko, mashed rutabaga casserole. In Finland it is one of the traditional dishes served, along with other casseroles, turkey, and ham, for Christmas dinner. When my grandparents came from Finland, they brought this recipe with them.

In Part One of this series I mentioned that over my years of travel, seat-mates, friends, family, acquaintances, and others had speculated that my traveling life was so glamorous, so exciting, and such a wonderful adventure. Sometimes trips were pleasant, but sometimes they were terrible. In 2005 some airline flights did not have security screening….

As we sat comfortably for dinner in the dining room, the ship’s captain began talking over the PA system: “I am sorry to inform you that we will not be able to visit Saint John in New Brunswick tomorrow as planned. A tropical storm system is just offshore, and our ship would not be able to withstand the winds and high waves associated with that system. Instead we will head out to sea and plan for our arrival in Halifax the next day as scheduled.

My grandmother not only taught me to love nature and to sew, but she also helped steer me into a career I enjoyed. She taught me about a Finnish construct called sisu that all Finns have in their souls. It is a combination of determination, courage, guts, resolve, and the ability to never waver or give up. Thank you Aiti for sisu. Aiti consistently used sisu in her life. She came to the United States in 1918 when Finland was in a terrible civil war. People were cold and starving. She was fortunate to board a ship for America where she met Waino, my grandfather, and later married him.