Two days ago, I needed to take my teenage son to Boston for a necessary medical procedure that his doctor doesn’t perform locally. Boston is a little over an hour from my home and I was dreading the drive. My late husband, Barry, was always the chauffeur when we had to go to Boston for any reason. We were polar opposites when it came to driving – he loved driving like Jeff Gordon loves Nascar, while I preferred enjoying the scenery on a slow walk. This was my first solo drive into Beantown and I was prepared to grit my teeth and white knuckle drive it. Boston traffic can be…

On a very rainy November day in 1977, I was seven years old and my mom was unusually late picking me up from school. As students began to trickle out to their waiting buses or parents, I was left behind. Anxiety and fear started to gnaw at me. A fellow seven year old neighborhood playmate, Susan, was left behind as well. Selfishly, this made me feel better to have her familiar face as company. The school seemed less dark and cavernous with her tiny red headed presence beside me. I think Susan and I were both scared, but she seemed less so. Minutes feel like hours when you’re seven years…