When I step outside on an early spring day and the still-chilly air mixes with the warm sun, an aroma often rises from the damp ground. I know that smell: It’s the smell of softball. That evocative sense can place me right back on the infield outside my high school,...
When the album Beatles ’65 came out, Mary, my neighbor, rushed to my house to play it on my brother’s “stereo,” a crude record player with two speakers trailing out from either side of it. Over and over, we listened to “I Feel Fine” and “I’m a Loser” until we could...
I nudge aside the box of Multi-grain Cheerios as I reach for my oatmeal. I’m never going to choose it for my breakfast, but there it stands, a seemingly inconsequential pantry item that speaks volumes. Sophie, my 26-year-old daughter, ate a bowl of it nearly every day...