Aimless letters to no one in particular
Saint-Barthélemy – For my fortieth, I woke up to see the sunrise. I’ve been waking up earlier toward this end of my thirties, sometimes just ready for the day, sometimes rife with anxiety, sometimes sweating at 3:30am, realizing I’m no longer able to handle the evening nightcap. All the same a sunrise is rare. But today is my day. The…
This adventure begins, as classics oft do, at Newark Airport. It’s a Tuesday – or maybe a Monday, doesn’t matter – in Terminal B. Had we flown into JFK, surely an army of penguins, platters of hors d’oeuvres held high, would greet these slack-jawed southerners to the world’s capital: Moët popping, a small orchestra trumpeting out Glenn Miller favorites. But…
