A Class Act

In 1986, I was on my way to teach a class when I was told about the Challenger disaster. I cancelled the class and went to a little diner in Tuscaloosa to drink coffee and watch their television, which was tuned to ABC news. Peter Jennings’ coverage impressed me so much that from then on, whatever happened in the world, his was the voice and appearance I depended on.

After the elections of 2000, I stopped watching the news as often, but when 9/11 happened, it was back to ABC for me. The news was the same no matter what, but somehow it was always a little easier to take when he delivered it.

I will miss him.

A Different Farewell


This is one of my favorite pictures I ever took of Timmy (TJB author Timothy Forry), made at Vincent’s one year when he and JM were here from NYC for a visit. We were a big and lively group: Tom, me, Timmy, JM, James, KK, and Lisa. At the moment I took the photo, Timmy was looking at James as he told a story. (James is a mesmerizing storyteller.)
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On the road in Y2K

I am so glad to be home. Tim did a wonderful job of taking care of the dogs and The Compound, and he is the best vacuumer in the whole world. As long as he remembers to replace the bag. He also had dinner cooking for us upon our return, AND he did the dishes later. How great is he?

I like seeing family and friends in other places, but for some reason, it gets harder every year to really enjoy being away. I miss everything about home: Tim, the dogs, my house, my routines.

I used to love to travel. By car or plane, I was always ready to go anywhere.

The year 2000 was a big year, and not only for traveling.
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Random thoughts on voyeurism

The first time I visited my friend James in an apartment he’d just moved into in Houston and was given the tour, I realized that his bedroom window had a great view of a residential mid-rise. “Oh, man, can I PLEASE come sit in your bedroom and stare at that building at night?” I asked. “Absolutely not!” he answered. “What is wrong with you?”
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Lost, not found

In 1998, on my first trip to NYC, accompanied by my friend James, I met Timothy J. and Timmy in person for the first time. Another special someone suggested I do one really touristy thing while there, so he took Tim and me to the top of the Empire State Building.

I’d taken my Canon 35mm on my trip, but it was large, so I purchased a smaller Canon in NYC that slipped easily into my coat pocket.

It also slipped easily out of my coat pocket, into the back of a cab, with a finished roll of film inside that included most of my great photos of the Tims as well as my shots of the Special Someone with Tim and me at the Empire State Building.

Occasionally, I try out various phrases in Google pictures to see if anyone developed my film and tried to get the pictures back to me. Amazingly, this actually happens for lots of other sad tourists. If only craigslist had existed back in 1998.

Warning to Whippersnappers

Weird shit happens as you age. I’m not talking about the way things sag, wrinkle, and gray. Everyone knows that. I’m talking about brand loyalty.

I grew up a Crest kid. Oh, sure, I’d indulge myself in an occasional fling with an Aim or a Colgate. I was briefly tempted by Pearl Drops. (Mmmmm, it’s a great feeling!) Thanks to Farrah, there was even that summer interlude with Ultra-Brite. But I always came back to Crest.

Then there was Secret. You know, it was made FOR ME. A woman.

But as I entered my pre-menopausal years, things changed. Secret wasn’t so secret. I abandoned it for Adidas. Which, oddly, smells good instead of like tennis shoes. And Crest seemed to lose its flavor. But so far, I just can’t give it up. Probably my last grin will be a Crest grin.