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Weekend Wanderer: It Was a Bad Week
It was one of those weeks. You know the kind. The Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day weeks. The SpaceCamp weeks. The Deep Blue Sea weeks. A week where everything goes wrong. It started with my daughter, who plans to join her college scuba club. So I can live in abject…
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Weekend Wanderer: How Many Shopping Services Does One Woman Need?
Near the end of Poltergeist, an invisible entity holds mom Diane in her bedroom, preventing her from reaching her children. Her screaming children, settled in the very bedroom responsible for sucking one of them into the television at the movie’s start. I mean, do you hate your kids, Poltergeist mom? Breaking free, Diane finds the…
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Weekend Wanderer: Cities of the World, We Need a Word
I have an agreement with the cities of the world. I love cities. I find things to do in them, like museums and used bookstores. I use public transportation and jaywalk, because I’m a yokel trying not to broadcast I’m a yokel. I flash my Oyster card and cross on red lights, all casual despite…
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Weekend Wanderer: A Theory … or a Runaway Imagination
My son thinks my father-in-law is D.B. Cooper. Yes. The notorious plane hijacker. I would hesitate to say this in print but for two things. One, my father-in-law is not, in fact, D.B. Cooper. Two, I’ve broadcasted Willie’s tax evasion for, like, a year. Yet the IRS only just sent a letter to the Temple…
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Weekend Wanderer: A Day at the Museum
Last year, a friend and I visited a museum. Being the only visitors in the cozy, industrial space, we had a private tour with a volunteer guide. She greeted us enthusiastically. “You’re in luck!” she said. She’s an avid fan of the museum – and a performer in a local theater. Her warm brown eyes…
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Weekend Wanderer: I Want to Get Rid of My Piano … Maybe
I could complain about this being scuba season, but you’ve probably had enough of that. So I won’t tell you I’m unraveling because I’m scuba diving tomorrow. Or that my daughter is attending scuba camp next week. Or that she’s scuba diving in Topsail, where a shark attacked a swimmer three weeks ago. It’s fine.…
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Weekend Wanderer: Sometimes, I’m a Bad Parent
I chose La Salle University for grad school because, well, the school has some good-looking dudes. That’s it. That’s the only reason. I didn’t care that I’m not Catholic. I didn’t care about the distance. I didn’t even care about the tuition. I was paying it myself anyway. I was just that boy crazy. A…
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Weekend Wanderer: A Dysfunctional Relationship with Time
It was a bright, balmy morning when I pulled into the Temple of Doom’s parking lot. Willie had an appointment. Willie’s primary care provider requested I accompany Willie on her visits with him since her unfortunate diagnosis. Which sounds easy enough. But for two things. One, Willie’s doctor is a 40-minute drive from the Temple…
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Weekend Wanderer: Summer Tax Season
The taxes still are not filed. To recap, last year I discovered Willie hadn’t filed a tax return since 2018. Worse, it’s not like Willie carefully filed her tax documents for easy retrieval. I mean, don’t be ridiculous, Cousin Larry. The tax documents were scattered throughout Willie’s apartment like clues in an escape room. But…
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Weekend Wanderer: Becoming a Guardian in Montco
You might think Willie’s recent Alzheimer’s diagnosis could lead to not a lot of funny in this space. But to quote every cartoon ever, au contraire mon frère. It is the funny that will save us. Just look at, for example, the guardianship. My siblings and I decided to pursue guardianship of Willie. My brother…
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Weekend Wanderer: My Mercury Study
How, exactly, was my relationship with Indy defined by mercury? It starts with Discover magazine. I was on leave from work, out having breakfast with Indy, when Indy slid an issue of Discover across the table to me. In its back pages, the National Institutes of Health advertised grant money for research on elemental mercury. …
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Weekend Wanderer: The Mysterious Stock Investments
So, the stocks. Let’s start with Indy’s Maryland property, which took me two years to sell. Just as I had a buyer, Indy went to Marion’s bar in Nepal. Now, I knew the property was only in Indy’s name. Of course I did. Willie and I reviewed Indy and Willie’s finances years ago. So I…
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Weekend Wanderer: A Curious Discovery in an Old Car
“You might want to brace yourself,” my husband said, handing me a small pleather portfolio and shaking off the day’s rain. He shook his head as I took the portfolio from him. “Your parents,” he said, his tone both rueful and amused. “Lutheran Brotherhood” shimmered in gold lettering on the portfolio’s front. A stack of…
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Weekend Wanderer: My Secret Admirer
You want to know who sent the roses, am I right? The significance of the roses was easy. I was — Sorry. Give me a minute here. I was turning 50 that week. Fifty. Cliff Clavin — from Cheers — his mom was portrayed by a 52-year-old actor. And Cliff Clavin was, like, a grown-up. …
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Weekend Wanderer: An Odd Letter in the Afternoon Mail Had the Whole Family Abuzz
“You,” my husband said, gazing at me over the mail, “are never dull.” He passed me a letter from that afternoon’s mail delivery, addressed to him alone. “Do you know who this is?” he asked, pointing to a name in the letter. It was a name common on Indy’s side of the family. “I don’t…
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Weekend Wanderer: A New Diagnosis Means There’s More to Those Unfiled Taxes Than I Initially Thought
So, January didn’t just bring a new year. It brought a new diagnosis for Willie. Alzheimer’s disease. I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. I was just — Wait. What do you mean you knew? How? I mean, yes. She utterly failed to file her tax returns. And sure. She eloped from the hospital last…
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Weekend Wanderer: I Can’t Sleep
I haven’t slept in days. It started with our security alarm, triggered at one o’clock in the morning. The alarm system texted me — kind of creepy in and of itself — that the breach occurred at my back door. Um, OK. Terrifying. Like, scuba terrifying. Did it help that my horror movie podcast just…
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Weekend Wanderer: Ketchup, Hot Dogs, and ‘The Bear’
I’m bingeing The Bear. And I have eyeballs with nerves connected to my brain. So I’m somewhat bewitched by Jeremy Allen White. I can’t even talk about his Calvin Klein ad. Except to say the socks and sneakers at the end are no good. No good at all. A conversation between his character and another…
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