Meeting Places and Romance

Jane Shortall writes: A Dubliner, a girl in her twenties, envies me for living in that city through the seventies. She and many of her friends do not snigger at those years described as ‘the decade that style forgot.’ They love how things were back then, citing everything from our apparent carefree life, lots of jobs, not so many crazy rules, many different styles of clothing and, in their words, totally brilliant music. ‘Tell me, what music from today will we be listening to in forty years’ time?’ she asked. Yes, I did see lots of bands in Dublin back then. From Led Zeppelin to Horslips, they came to Dublin and belted out their hits. more »

Joan L. Cannon wrote: I went to my own 40th high school reunion and my 50th college one. It was that one that made me swear off that kind of gathering. The first problem is that we know that we're in for surprises both pleasant and not so much. It seems these gatherings force an automatic exercise in comparisons. Every attendee has to face unstated competition as intense as that for college acceptance; it's just based on different criteria. How have I aged in appearance compared with my classmates? Can I match the average for marriage, number of children, implied income, social status, renown?   more »

As I'd watch each [friend] enter her kitchen, pull a mug from a cabinet, and pour her hot drink, I felt as if I had been reunited with a long-lost sister. But it wasn't DNA that matched us, simply years of traveling together through life's joys and sorrows. A trio of these friends had known me through first marriage and divorce, and all cleaved to me through my second husband's illness and death. We'd bring each other up-to-date on the goings on during the nearly five months since I departed from my longtime home. And even though I chat frequently with these friends, and view Facebook status reports, these early morning kitchen conversations were as precious as an heirloom. more »

David Westheimer wrote: It is October 1945. I am less than six months out of a Luftwaffe POW camp and my bride is coming out of more than a year of mourning for her first husband, a tank commander killed in action in Belgium who never saw their baby son. We have known each other forever. We were never introduced. She was the bratty little girl who was around when I visited her slightly older brother and sister. Her Uncle Louie wants to give us a honeymoon for a wedding present. Two weeks in New York, where I had never been.   more »