I just finished watching the second season of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, which I enjoyed very much. It's a pleasing fantasy, entertaining and kicky, a bopping tune with gorgeous sets and costumes in saturated, period-reminiscent colors. It's fun to imagine my mother in those scenes, a woman of the same age as Midge, not yet... Continue Reading →
When Barack (HUSSEIN!) Obama was running for president, a number of naysayers complained that he was part of the Chicago Machine, the enormous gears of power churning within the City of Big Shoulders. I always marveled at that assessment, because from what I could see, Mr. Obama was an outsider to Chicago politics, an unconnected... Continue Reading →
A couple of weeks ago, I got to hang out with a four year old when I went to his house for dinner. I was purportedly there to hang out with his parents, but secretly, my plan was to play with him. I even brought my own toys. And play we did, with his brand-new... Continue Reading →
My mom's on my mind today. Probably like a lot of people who've lost their parents. Thanksgiving is especially reminiscent of her because it was often her birthday, which is November 25. The smell of onions and celery and pepper sauteing at 8 a.m. brings to mind my mom, in her floor-length purple "dashiki" robe,... Continue Reading →
On the way into the hospital for a routine visit, I saw a perfect depiction of the entirety of life; an older man and woman pushing someone in a wheelchair who appeared to be the woman's mother chatting as they passed a young woman heavily pregnant, waiting for her partner so they could take the... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 