Commonplace Spring 2025, Volume I, Issue I

But I was fined for damaging the tree. Human life is so fragile. Maybe as fragile as democracy. I hate playing golf because, as a child, my dad forced me to play golf. Sometimes every day. The last time I ever played golf was with him on his 95th birthday. What I wouldn’t give to play one more round. I met my future wife after traveling several hours in an ice storm because Daniel told me he’d met someone I should marry. He was correct. I didn’t have my first cup of coffee until I was almost 40. It was an espresso at 2:00 in the morning. Nobody wanted to go home. Our first daughter, Zoe, was born in a fancy hospital in Beverly Hills, delivered by an incompetent doctor who didn’t have a clue about how to deliver a baby. But this was just the beginning of Zoe’s story. In literature, it would be called foreshadowing. All I will tell you is this: She is the girl who lived. Our second daughter, Alice, was born at home. In our bathtub. I won’t say I delivered her. “I caught her,” is probably more accurate. Zoe is now 29 and makes the best chocolate chip cookies in the world.

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