OneWoman

I went to see “The Artist” the other day as part of my efforts (not very strenuous) to see the Oscar contenders and buzzed-about movies. Occasionally I digress for the purpose of guaranteed mindless big-screen entertainment, as when I went to see “Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol” (excuse me, is it just me or is Jeremy Renner looking absolutely fabulous?) But I digress… I wasn’t sure how I would feel about the film. I have middle-brow tastes when it comes to movies and I can scarcely be... Read Full Story

I’m into philanthropy. Not big-time, mind you; I’m not in a position to exercise noblesse oblige. But I’m at the age when budgeting for annual charitable All rights reserved by hpebley3 via flickr.com contributions, however modest, feels somehow mature. If I’d been a member of a faith-based organization, I might have started this process much earlier, but better late than never. I’m hit up by the usual suspects: charities who purchased my address from the charity I gave to five years... Read Full Story

I’m reading Steven Pinker’s new book,  The Better Angels of Our Nature .  At 696 pages (before over 100 pages of reference notes), it’s not what you’d call a beach read, even if the weather were warmer. Pinker is a well-known, Harvard-trained psychologist, scientist and linguist who studies and writes about cognition; that is, (to borrow the title of his 2007 book), “the stuff of thought.” An affable, outgoing sort with an accessible writing style and a full head of longish curly hair, Dr... Read Full Story

Princeton: The name is steeped in tradition and serious scholarly pursuit. Among its alumni are governors, senators, presidents, Supreme Court justices, admirals, rocket scientists, inventors, Pulitzer and Nobel Prize winners, and a few bona fide Hollywood stars. It stands to reason that a quintessential university town like Princeton would have an independent bookstore. For 26 years, Micawber Books was that store, until the owner decided to close for personal reasons. . Meanwhile, the... Read Full Story

Aren’t we just full of opinions? As a friend of mine wrote in her book: “[While} having  so  many  ways  to  bring  our  opinions  into  public discussion has been, on the whole, a terrific development… not all ideas are equal―equally valid, equally worthy, equally verifiable.” In a related article, she noted: “ the  opportunity   to comment doesn’t mean we’re  required   to put in our two cents, notwithstanding our collective compulsion to do so.” However, she also recognized that the horse... Read Full Story

There’s something about those boys from New Jersey, right? A little bit naughty, a little bit wild, and a whole lot of that special something that makes you want to stay close, even though you suspect he’s nothing but trouble. Even when you see where this is all going, even when you recognize how wrong he is and how foolish you are, you can’t let go. I’m not talking about Bruce or Bon Jovi or even Frank: these are our icons. As for the swaggering beach bums, hot-shot lawyers and wanna-be... Read Full Story

October 17, 2011 seemed like a fine day to head downtown and see the memorial I’d avoided up to and just after the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. It was another stunning autumn morning, with another cerulean sky visible through towers, half built with aspirations to touch the clouds that floated by. Hundreds of people going about their business were amplified by thousands more whose presence makes this, if not a world trade center, than the world’s visiting center. I also planned to... Read Full Story

My grade school tormenter reached me through Facebook. Actually, he located me on Facebook via some site called Classmates. I don’t  remember registering on Classmates but who knows? I might have hit the wrong button at some point. The bottom line is: he found me. “Hi Nikki,” his e-mail read (he’d also asked to “friend” me). “Remember me? P—? I went to Richards School; I was two years ahead of you.” I barely remember anyone from grade school; I have enough trouble recalling high school... Read Full Story

Shoulder length or longer Here baby, there mama Everywhere daddy, daddy Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair Flow it, show it Long as God can grow it My hair © 1967 James Rado & Gerome Ragni (lyrics); Galt MacDermot (music) So many things to worry about in the world and yet I find myself thinking about my hair–and why not? We are our hair. More than eye color or height or weight, hair seems to be how we humans make a statement. Some of this is evolutionary: healthy hair... Read Full Story

We like to commemorate in the United States. Coming up, what I refer to as The-Anniversary-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named recalls a horrible event ten years ago when four planes, two towers, and several thousand lives were destroyed in an attack on U.S. soil. In the days that followed, we came together, focused not on hate and destruction (at least to my grief-stricken, New York-centric eyes) but on resilience and purpose. Heartbreaking, isn’t it? Not that my husband or so many others were killed... Read Full Story