1994: I turn 37

I wake up realizing that completely absent from my mind when I wrote yesterday’s post was the fact that Sam was born on our anniversary. It seems impossible I could ever forget that.

1994: We all go skiing except Sam. Cal’s mother and the housekeeper take turns staying with him. I buy my own car phone at Cellular One. My grandmother has a stroke. Every Tuesday Sam and I visit her in Atlanta. Sometimes we drive around so she can see the world. In June I head to Paris again, but I have no memory of this trip except watching OJ fleeing in his white Bronco. Most days I stay in Umbros and a t-shirt. For the children to go outside, they need me. Amandah and I walk and talk our way around the park whenever we can. Jack starts kindergarten. These are the days I think will never end. No World Series–the players are on strike. For the second year in a row, I go to Sarasota in November for the French Film Festival–Jacqueline Bisset was there last year. My mother and I go to the films together. I collect autographs in my program. In November Hell Freezes Over.

23 days to 60


Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Mary Oliver

8 thoughts on “1994: I turn 37

  1. A cliff-hanger! Oh, but there it is in the comments. I was thinking something political.

    That’s funny about getting the OJ thing wrong. I certainly didn’t notice the error when I read it, and I just saw the ESPN documentary (which is very good, if you haven’t seen it–provides needed context). What a weird moment, that Bronco thing. It kind of makes me nuts that for me, it happens to be one of those “I remember exactly where I was when I saw that” moments–memories like that should be reserved for personal and national celebrations and tragedies. But instead fucking OJ and his fucking white Bronco. Sorry, it was such an ugly little stretch of time, brings out the worst in me to think about it….

    Liked by 1 person

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