Here's to who we used to be

I wanted her to put it in writing. I asked her, but she thought I was joking. I wasn't. She was remembering a me I no longer am. She was remembering a me my children have never even known.

"You made the best clothes in the class," she told me at the gym the other day. In my new incarnation, I work out. In my other life, I sewed.

"I was making a bathrobe and you were making a plaid jacket. I was impressed," she said.

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Terror's not entertainment

Imagine, if you will, a movie, embraced by critics, hailed as "brilliant," "extraordinary," and "a cause for celebration," about an SS officer, who kidnaps, tortures and kills Jews - but is portrayed as a guy with a kind heart. He kills without glee, you see. He's troubled by his actions.

If this is hard to envision, don't worry. The movie will make you see the goodness in this man. The camera will linger on the killer's sensitive eyes as he's interrogating his prisoner. The music will swell as Mr. Nice SS Guy lifts the hood off a shackled Jew so that he can more easily breathe. If you still can't see past the officer's actions to the purity of his soul, the movie's manipulative subplot and eye-for-an-eye ending will take you there.

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Even today, HIStory silences the accomplishments of women

Even today, HIStory silences the accomplishments of women

Since 1987, March has been designated National Women's History Month by the U.S. Congress. That's what Thomas Mann, a sixth grader at the Davis School in Brockton, wrote and told me. "It is a time set aside to honor women, both past and present, for their accomplishments," he said. I'd read a blurb a few days before I received his letter, which mentioned National Women's History Month, but that's been it. There have been no in-depth feature stories; no "women of the day" highlighted every day throughout the month. No widespread recognition at all…

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Everyone needs another mom

She was a shadow figure for years, made up of parts, never a whole. Her hands washed dishes, scrubbed pots, filled pans with oils and meats and spices. Her feet walked from the table to the countertop to the stove. Her voice was soft, and always friendly. "Do you two want something to drink?" Even when it was firm, it was never harsh. She suggested; she didn't demand.

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Cross dressing: all the rage with none of the revelation

Cross-dressing, men dressing as women, is the in thing these days, the media's newest obsession.

It's on all the talk shows; it's the linchpin of the hottest movie; it's even the theme of the Institute of Contemporary Art's new show "Dress Codes."

From androgyny to hodgepodgegyny, it's just a great, big, anything-goes, totally Mardi Gras world.

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Suburbs still fulfill the dream

New to this city, to this country, he wanted to know about suburbs. What they are, exactly? What they are like?

"They're safer than cities, are they not?" he asked. And though I said, yes, they are, I didn't explain that this is not their essence; that suburbs weren't born out of a need for safety. Suburbs, after all, have their roots, not in today's fears, but in yesterday's dreams.

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Miracle of kindness

It's all thin ice, or a minefield, or a tightrope. Pick your favorite analogy.

Toxins, fire, a fall, a virus, bacteria, a gunshot wound can, in an instant, change what is into what was. And nothing is ever the same.

Before he ran into a burning building, he had a normal life. Now he is disfigured and disabled.

Before she was diagnosed with multiple mylenoma, she worried about getting into college. Now she worries about finding a bone marrow donor.

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Once the finger is pointed, the accused always is guilty

Once the finger is pointed, the accused always is guilty

All it takes is an accusation. "He did it," someone says, and he did it. That's it. End of story. He can deny doing it. He can say, "It never happened. It wasn't like that. Let me tell you my side." But no one will listen. He's this century's witch. Once someone points a finger, once someone even hints, he's guilty as charged…

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Everyone loses the `game' of sex

"History is not a random sequence of unrelated events. Everything affects and is affected by everything else. This is never clear in the present. Only time can sort out events. It is then in perspective that patterns emerge." - William Manchester

Patterns:

A man, about 55, walks into a restaurant. He's wearing a topcoat, a suit and a tie; he goes to the bar and orders a beer.

He's on his way out of the restaurant when he stops and asks the hostess, a young woman of 21, if Leeanne is working today. The hostess says she's new and doesn't know, but she'll check. She walks over to her manager, then returns and tells the man that Leeanne has moved to Florida.

"I wish I were in Florida, too," the hostess adds.

The man looks her up and down - she's wearing black heels, black nylons, a black skirt, white blouse and black blazer.

Then he says, "A little number like you could do well with the older guys in Florida. All you'd have to do is take your panties off."

The hostess is stunned. But all she can do is glare.

"Hey! Don't get offended," he says. "I'm just tellin' ya the truth."

He looks her up and down again, then walks out.

The hostess is my daughter. She tells me this story long-distance from school.

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He gives a gift of confidence

I am sitting in the car, in the passenger seat. My daughter, the 16-year-old, is behind the wheel. She is learning to drive, and I am teaching her, telling her when to speed up, to slow down, to move a little to the left, to be careful of the ice on the road.

I hardly breathe while she drives. I keep my foot poised on an invisible brake. I see a child next to me, a little girl far too young to be driving a car.

My hands are fists as we travel down Dedham Street.

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