May 1, 2016

Chicago. Summer, 2012


I'm stretching the idea of Friends Week here by posting a photo by a Facebook friend of his young son. I just love this photo. Not only because his son is so cute, but because he's so unaware of the message his shirt conveys. And because it reminds me of how we gently exploit others in our pursuit of amusement. I don't, but others seem to.

April 30, 2016

Gloucester, MA. April, 2016


Can you post a picture of your husband during Friends Week on SLS? Yes. Here's Dr. Blake in front of the section of his garden we affectionately call Mars. Don't ask.

April 29, 2016

Rome. October, 1984


Friends Week continues here on SLS with this shot of (from left) Patti and Dali when the three of us happened to be in the Eternal Città at the same time. Fortunately, none of us could resist any hint of a photo opportunity, so when we came across this graffiti, well, you can see the result. (For another shot of Patti, in her Rome-based alter-ego as Gina, click here.)

April 28, 2016

Some beach in MA. Summer, 2014


Frequent visitors to this blog will know that I love jumping pictures. And love the people who also love jumping pictures. Like my friend Hayden, above center, who puts his companions' attempts to shame with his impressive, weightless jump. Bravo.

April 27, 2016

Cambridge, MA. Winter, 2014


An old pal from college days, who found this blog by accident, recently wrote to me that he was struck by the number of people I count as friends. Yes, I am blessed. So this week, a look at some of them. Here's a photo of my friend Floyd on the tracks of Boston's Red Line. The winter blizzard had shut down all subways, so Floyd and his now-husband Rob (who took this photo) snuck into the Central Square station, jumped onto the tracks and, well, you can see the dynamic result. (For another of my favorite photos of him, click here.)

April 26, 2016

Westford, MA. July, 2008


Here I am with my friend and former Bose colleague Margarita at our off-site event one summer day. There were "team-building" exercises which were infantile and stupid. Followed by softball and ceramics and such. Mainly Margarita and I were waiting for the ice-cream portion of the afternoon, as the event was held at a quasi-amusement park known for its frozen delights. Margarita is from Colombia and she used to practice Spanish with me. One day, her computer was not functioning properly and I asked if it were a "computadora Colombiana." She smiled and countered, "No. Es gringa!"

April 25, 2016

Near Galway, Ireland. May, 1992


When my mother died, I took my father on a trip to Ireland, a place he'd always wanted to visit. We rented a car and drove more than 1,000 miles in ten days. We also drove each other crazy. His constant noise (whistling, singing, coughing, snoring, etc.) irritated me 24 hours a day. And I imagine my photographer's suggestions (No, not there. In the sun! No, over there. More to the left, etc.) must have worn on him, too. But at least my niggling resulted in some nice mementos. Like this one.