by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Mar 15, 2017 | 60 to 60, Columbus GA, continuous life, marriage, memory, reading, time, truth |
At dinner one new year’s eve, my father told us that one day it wouldn’t be 19 anything; it would be 2000. And when it was the year 2000, he said, he would be 67. He laughed, as if that were something he didn’t believe possible. Then he went around...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Mar 14, 2017 | 60 to 60, Columbus GA, continuous life, life, marriage, memory, reading, time, truth |
1999: Across the pond, the euro is born, but here at home, there are carpools times a thousand, dentist appointments, doctor appointments, snacks for all the various games, watching the various games, school conferences, the grocery times a thousand, the meals that...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Mar 13, 2017 | 60 to 60, Columbus GA, continuous life, life, marriage, memory, time, truth |
1998: I buy my first computer–a Sony laptop. I’m still writing little bits about women but no real story yet. I start keeping a list of the books I read–this year I will read 35. Cal goes to Mobile for business, and I tag along. It’s where my...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Mar 12, 2017 | 60 to 60, Columbus GA, continuous life, life, marriage, memory, time, truth |
1997: Kathleen turns 16, gets her license, and drives out the driveway while my face is plastered to the window. It doesn’t seem possible. Sam is 3 1/2 and he and Jack and Bobby are the three amigos. I have enough free time to think about going back to...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Mar 11, 2017 | 60 to 60, Columbus GA, continuous life, life, marriage, memory, time, truth |
1996: Kathleen gets her learner’s license. I pay someone to plant daffodils in the yard–yes, pay. I have free time again–seven days this year, six in February and one in May. And I write on our new computer. I start a story about a woman who wants...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Mar 10, 2017 | 60 to 60, Columbus GA, continuous life, life, memory, time, truth |
When I’m tired, my memory is less sharp. This is perhaps obvious and yet it surprises me. This morning, I remember that 1994 was the year my grandmother had a stroke and the year Sam and I began our Tuesday visits with her. This evening, as I’m writing...
