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Wednesday, September 8th, 2010

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The house settles. The balmy air rustles. Buy gold viagra without prescription, A few more paragraphs need rearranging. The children do streak off the bus, but the six-year old is in tears.

Turns out, he’d gotten on the wrong bus and it was only when his brother, proudly wearing his yellow safety patrol belt, went in search of him, that they found him and brought him to the correct place. He ran into our arms, sobbing, trembling hard. Not a good start.

But the next morning he was off to the bus stop with his brother, backpack jostling on his shoulders, buy gold viagra without prescription. Gone before I even downed my coffee.

This afternoon I entertain ambitions to take the children to Rosh Hashana services--for once we planned enough to have tickets. I suspect, at most, we will dip our slices of apple in honey, chat about Pokeman and new teachers. We’ll see what the next day brings. And for me, what this next year holds.

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Category Teaching, Writing | Tags: Tags: Children, Family Life,

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Sunday, February 28th, 2010

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Because I have a room, a little peach-walled study lined with books and papers, even a window seat that looks out on our small dappled lawn, I have a place of creation in my mind. It really does work. So I wander down the stairs and adjudicate some sibling crisis. But I wander right back up again, sift around in some of the historical materials I’ve collected, and before I know it, I’m back in the world of sugar cane workers and angry Scottish overseers. The interruptions are there, but the plunge back isn't so hard. For a writer, or at least for this writer, a home becomes that grounding, that place from which all the complicated plants of living and working can flourish.

My husband’s parents, Boris and Lisa Aronson, were set designers, and late in life left their rambling Upper West Side apartment and built a beautiful modern house on a cliff from which they worked. To this day, there is still a hanging rope pulley where they cranked up the set models my mother-in-law painstakingly created. Rooms there are plate glass and wood, studios, storage, living room repurposed accordingly over the years. Boris called their house “a laboratory for work and living.”

That’s perhaps what we needed, here in our circa 1907 four-square home. A laboratory, from whence children can be raised and manuscripts written, all at the same time.

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Category Writing | Tags: Tags: Boris Aronson, Children, Family Life, Home, Manhattanites, Manuscripts, Writing,

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