“Your love,” she says, “makes me feel more alive,” with her eyes on the floor, blank faced, looking anything but alive. This once bubbly girl with a jazzy soul and a voice bursting in major chords, weeping once over the beauty in Chopin’s Preludes, lights rising beneath her slender fingers moving, across ivory keys. Who attended college until her senior… Read More

I was nine years old, wandering through the front door of our home after school. On the table in the foyer, beneath an oil painting of ocean waves building beneath troubled skies, the first thing I notice is the latest Life magazine. The cover? A large glossy black-and-white photograph of girls my age, wearing a similar type of narrow-waisted cotton… Read More