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By RUTH CHARNEY

By RUTH CHARNEY

By RUTH CHARNEY

 Just a few weeks ago, there were no election signs in my neighborhood. No signs for Harris. No signs for Trump. I checked frequently.We are a small neighborhood without discrete boundaries and yet we have our own sense of identity. A few residents...

By RUTH CHARNEY

My mother told me to eat my vegetables, now a CSA does.            Don’t get me wrong, I love my CSA. It’s a privilege to belong and I’ve been a member for many years. It’s a membership I would never think of relinquishing. I am a proud, boastful...

By RUTH CHARNEY

We did not clock our serious hours watching Celtic games. How many watching the playoffs? How many re-watching highlights of the playoffs? How many hours reading, talking, thinking, dreaming … go Celtics? There’s a story my father used to tell. It...

By RUTH CHARNEY

We walk a path that leads toward the pond. The ground is rutted, our feet slosh in the wet snow. It’s a gingerly, slow pace.Fast moving water rushes into a spring-fed pond — a swimming pond come summer. We try to imagine a summer day with warm sun...

By RUTH CHARNEY

Granddaughter on phone: “She’s really mad.” Daughter: “I hear her. She’s yelling.”Son on phone to sister: “What a jerk.”Grandma J: “I hate it … It’s … red. I hate it red. Send it back.”Grandma Judy is older than me and I am old. She has survived...