by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Mar 5, 2017 | 60 to 60, Columbus GA, continuous life, life, marriage, memory, time, truth |
1990: Another new decade. Over the last couple of years, Cal and I talked about building a house, then we bought a lot, hired an architect, bid it out, and selected a builder. But it’s not until February when we break ground that I understand we’re really...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Mar 4, 2017 | 60 to 60, continuous life, life, marriage, memory, time, truth |
One thing this project is doing is reinforcing the relentless nature of time. I can barely catch my breath. Each day, another year gone. 1989: I’m pregnant again. On Valentine’s Day, after a belated 8th birthday/skating party for Kathleen, I’m...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Mar 3, 2017 | 60 to 60, Columbus GA, continuous life, life, marriage, memory, time, truth |
It’s only when I begin to write today’s post that I remember that in 1987 we moved into a bigger house. So I add that to yesterdays’ post. 1988: The shoulder pad trend continues. Kathleen turns seven. It snows in Columbus. Cal goes on his annual golf...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Mar 2, 2017 | 60 to 60, continuous life, life, memory, time, truth |
1987: My sisters and brother send me a box of death-themed, life-is-over-at-30 gifts–a mug and a towel, plates and napkins… Cal and I go to San Francisco. We eat breakfast at Sears. I have a piece of sausage left, which he wraps in toast and then in a...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Mar 1, 2017 | 60 to 60, continuous life, life, memory, time, truth |
1986: In January I’m at work when the Challenger disintegrates just seconds after lift off. We get a TV on in a conference room. Work in Columbus is less fun. Fewer lawyers, less urgency, no glitter. I’m the only female so nobody but the guys to eat lunch...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Feb 28, 2017 | 60 to 60, Columbus GA, continuous life, life, marriage, memory, time, truth |
I wrote this as a note to yesterday’s post and then deleted it. But the concern is here again today. Although I don’t think about a particular year until I begin to write it, I worry that the years are about to get boring. I remind myself that each one is...
