I'm at a shoe store at the check- out counter when a boy who works there walks over to the register and tells the girl who is waiting on me that he's going outside for a cigarette.
The boy looks young, no more than 17. He's thin and cute and reminds me of my son at that age.
Read MoreYves Alexandre writes simply and truthfully; I do not want to change her words. I want to repeat them because they beg to be heard; but I have to compress them because of space.
The 17-year-old student at Somerville High wrote her story for the September issue of the 21st Century, a newspaper published in Newton, written entirely by teens. Alexandre's story is compelling, a disturbing first person account of racism.
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Fact and fiction. They blend. A person steps into the sun at high noon and he and his shadow are one. Both exist. Both are seperate entities, but for a moment they merge.
Schuyler, population 400, is fact. It's a tiny town nestled among the mountains in Nelson County, Virginia. Walton's Mountain is but a shadow of Schuyler, a creation of its most famous son, novelist and screen writer Earl Hamner.
Read MoreA guy walks into a health club, smelling of onions and cigarettes, a clue that he's not stopping by for a workout, though God knows he could use one. He's also carrying a briefcase, not a gym bag, a sure sign of trouble.
He asks for the owner, opens his briefcase and when the owner appears introduces himself and hands him an attractive brochure, which has on its cover drawings of people dancing, people riding a stationary bike, a set of barbells, a racquet, goggles and racquetballs.
Read MoreNo except here. Just a well-I-was-really-off-the-mark-with-this-prediction! The anything goes era continues.
Read MoreI phoned her the other day to ask how her pregnancy is coming along.
"I'll be glad when it's over," she said in a weary voice. "I'm a nervous wreck. There are so many things that can go wrong. I can't wait for this baby to be born."
My friend is having her second child, but this is her third pregnancy. A year ago she miscarried, so all during the early weeks of this pregnancy the possibility that she might again miscarry kept her joy on hold.
Read MoreA child is born, a normal, healthy, beautiful child. He rolls over when he should, sits up like all babies his age, crawls, stands, walks, says "mama" and "dada," and when he smiles, he lights up a room.
But when he's about a year-and-a-half he stops using words, stops looking at people and doesn't reach out anymore. He doesn't smile. He frowns, screams, bites his hands, bangs his head on the floor and tears at his face and his hair. He repeats this behavior day after day.
What causes this? No one has an answer. Neither the cause nor the cure of autism is known.
Read MoreI wish I could remember more about that Christmas Eve. I can recreate the room: We are at Caryn's parents' house, at their traditional after-church Christmas party, renowned for its homemade egg-nog. I can picture the punch bowl in the middle of the table, hear the clinking of glass and the laughter of the crowd, smell assorted colognes and the sweet scent of pine.
I can see Caryn's face, a child's face, no make-up, not even lipstick, freckles dotting her nose, a grin in her eyes. I can even make out what she's wearing: a plaid jumper, a white blouse. She is 19. She is a child.
Read MoreI wish I could remember more about that Christmas Eve. I can recreate the room: We are at Caryn's parents' house, at their traditional after-church Christmas party, renowned for its homemade egg-nog. I can picture the punch bowl in the middle of the table, hear the clinking of glass and the laughter of the crowd, smell assorted colognes and the sweet scent of pine. I can see Caryn's face, a child's face, no make-up, not even lipstick, freckles dotting her nose, a grin in her eyes. I can even make out what she's wearing: a plaid jumper, a white blouse. She is 19. She is a child.
Read MoreIt's here somewhere, I know it. I put it in a safe place on my desk. In the letters to be answered pile? In the pocket of my daily planner? In my notebook?
No, it's in none of these places.
Read MoreThey came to talk about their friend. Fifteen women drove from Dorchester to Braintree last Wednesday evening after a day of tending to their children, their homes and their jobs to sit in another friend's home and try to explain to a stranger how special Michelle Kennedy was.
"No matter what was going on in her life, she'd always say, "But what about you? How are you doing?"
"She was always there for me."
"She was my best friend."
Read MorePROUT'S NECK, Maine - The DNA men are inside. It's 5:30 p.m. and they have been at it all day: trading information, speculating, extrapolating, talking nuclei and double helixes, trying to decipher the genetic code of life.
It is noble work they do. Their research will improve, even save people's lives.
But in the meantime, there's today, Oct. 3, a glorious, sunny, warm Indian summer day, set down in the middle of fall.
And they are oblivious to it.
Read MoreThis isn't what you want to read on a Sunday morning, or on any morning. It's yet another horror story about suffering people thousands of miles away. We don't want to know about any more suffering people. We've got enough problems: not enough money to make ends meet; not enough jobs to go around.
Cities exploding. Hope imploding. Locked doors in the house, even when you're home. Locked doors in the car, even when you drive. No stopping to help anyone; no looking around. People weird, ready to attack. Trouble in the schools; trouble in the streets; homes aren't havens; church doors are locked; Cancer, AIDS, hurricanes. We don't need more problems!
Read MoreI didn't know he was sick. Not that I should have. Why would he have told me? He had no reason and no opportunity.
We didn't know each other. We were voices on the phone. I talked to him many times over the years, but I met him only once.
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