Author: Linda Lowen
Mother’s Day is a day of celebration, but there’s a ritual element as well. Most follow a similar pattern: breakfast in bed, cards store-bought or handmade, flowers, chocolates and dinner out. If you’re a mom, you probably smile and say “Thank you” even during moments that aren’t to your liking. It’s not about me, you tell yourself. Don’t complain. They mean well. Millions do, but it comes at a cost. In May 2016, Fortune reported estimates from the National Retail Federation on what Americans planned to spend on Mom: on average $172.22. That’s a total of $21.4 billion. The top…
Em and I have been spending a lot more time together lately. Gone are the petty arguments, sneering tone, defensiveness and other emotional land mines I used to step on whenever I tried talking to my college-age daughter. These days when she gets home from work or school, instead of stomping off to her room, Em seeks me out. And instead of ducking my head to avoid her glare, I meet her eyes. Today she’s smiling. “Hey, Mom? Got time for an episode?” I smile back, close my laptop and turn on the TV. As Em would say, “Don’t throw…
Aerial shot of the Old Forge lakefront. Just northeast of Central New York lies a natural wonderland of 6 million acres, 3,000 lakes, 30,000 miles of streams and rivers, and more than 2,000 miles of hiking trails. It’s the Adirondack Park, and our nearest gateway is the resort village of Old Forge, about a two-hour drive from Syracuse. Although Old Forge is small (with a population of around 750), it rolls out a big welcome to visitors in every season. Fall’s slightly cooler weather, spectacular foliage, and smaller crowds make it an ideal time to plan an October weekend family…
Skaneateles is so picture perfect, visitors stop mid-stride to admire this quaint storefront and that view of the lake. Visitors like Patrick and Dena Putrello of Utica angle their cellphone cameras, trying to get the best possible shot. “We love to go places with our grandchildren,” Patrick Putrello explained on a recent visit, “so we’re looking for things to do on a day trip.” As they found out, Skaneateles fit the bill. Just 23 miles west of Syracuse, the village curves along the north end of the lake that shares its name. The fifth largest of the Finger Lakes, it’s…
Jaye only told me about the bears, the mountain lions, and the tragic deaths (“just seven in 30 years”) once she arrived home from the wilderness. And it was true wilderness—no electricity or running water, no toilets or cell phone service. During her six months away, she’d kept in touch through hand-written letters describing her work building trails in the California back country. Funny how she never mentioned wild animals, physical danger, or mountains so steep if you took two steps off the trail on a foggy day you’d fall hundreds of feet to your death. But once she was…
What kind of mother is Hillary Clinton? I don’t care, and neither should you. No man has ever made his mark as a great dad first . . . and, oh yeah, a world leader second. How Hillary raised Chelsea is a topic that’s never concerned me. With two daughters of my own, I’ve spent too much time churning my own angsty stew of maternal self-doubt to worry about anyone else, let alone Hillary. What matters to me is Hillary’s impact on the generation of girls and young women who witnessed her first run for president: the successes, the confidence,…
Just before my older daughter, Jaye, left for college, we established an accidental, unspoken ritual: falling asleep together while watching late-night TV, Jaye on the loveseat, me on the couch. Quiet companionship was something we hadn’t shared since she was a baby. In the daytime, however, we fought about what she’d take to school in Chicago, how much money she’d need to live on, and all the tiny details that time, distance, and a 12-hour car ride amplify into major concerns. When the big day came, our goodbyes happened quickly, the two of us at the corner of a busy…
My childhood Thanksgiving memories are practically nonexistent. That’s because my parents and I dined with strangers in places I never saw again. There were only three of us, so we took the easy way out. The Sunday before, my father bought the newspaper and looked at restaurant ads. He made Thanksgiving dinner reservations based on impulse and price. This was not—and never had been—a recipe for success. So when my boyfriend of three months invited me to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving, I had high hopes. I pictured a serene Norman Rockwell setting with poised dinner companions. Instead, I arrived…
Jaye and Em know where the fireflies live. Ask them, and my daughters will tell you: under the cedar trees where the myrtle’s so dense you can’t see the forest floor beneath. Ask when they come out, and my daughters will say: when the twilight’s so deep you can hardly make out individual trunks. When a fine mist rises at ground level, adding to the mystery and magic of the fey, blinking lights. That’s where the fireflies live. That’s when they come out. But you won’t ask, because grown-ups aren’t supposed to be interested in fireflies. Our fascination with lightning…
When you go shopping for a bathing suit, it’s like stepping in quicksand. You browse the racks and carry armfuls to the fitting room, but once you enter your own tiny stall, that sinking feeling sets in. The longer you stand in front of the harsh lights and full-length mirror, the more your confidence erodes. And from the moment you try on that first swimsuit, the voice in your head starts pulling you down. Funny how a mirror—something that doesn’t have eyes, a brain or a mouth—nonetheless sees you, judges you and tells you everything that’s wrong with you. I…