How I Learned When Not To Tell a Lie in Kindergarten

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I learned a lot in kindergarten. Photo: By Erwin Schneider, Wikimedia Commons

Anthony held the distinction of being the person most likely to be banished to the time out zone which, in Miss Humphries’ afternoon kindergarten class, was just a corner in the darkest part of her otherwise lively and colorful space.

It seemed that he was perennially in the Siberian corner, looking defiant, with gray Sen-Sen stains on the outside edges of his mouth. I never really knew what his crime was, but I think he usually worked alone. He may have broken a toy over someone’s head, or shot off a BB gun at recess. Or maybe he didn’t put…

This Is Us

Go ahead, poke fun at my little lipstick compulsion

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Photo: Melissandra/Getty Images

I was one of 51 seventh-graders getting ready for the Marieville School dance. It was December, and this was to be our first introduction to society, right there in the gymnasium.

It was a big night. With her shiny black Singer, my mother had made me a gold satin, quilted, high-waisted, A-line maxi skirt with a matching bolero vest. I wore it over a black smocked blouse with poet sleeves and a pair of black patent leather shoes from Kinney’s. My hair was piled up with holly and baby’s breath. I was a brand-new person. A woman, nearly. …

Let it go, and other tips for couples working from home

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I’m scrambling an egg for the dog. The coffee is percolating, and my husband’s laptop is pinging. Do you want some juice, he asks as he pours his own.

I say, No, thanks, but I am not surprised when he pulls out a second glass, pours a short orange juice and places it near my coffee cup on the breakfast table.

It’s actually nice that he served up a morning OJ for me. But he isn’t listening.

One night a few years ago, one sister-in-law, observing my husband and I bump blindly, though pleasantly, into each other in the kitchen…

My daily walk is a political metaphor

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Halfway there: nearing the breachway. Photo by D. Picozzi

Since Covid reached global pandemic status, I have maintained a daily walking routine that has helped to maintain my emotional equilibrium in the face of panic, fear and frustration.

Everyday, I open my phone’s podcast library and buoyantly walk outside where I head toward my happy place, our town beach. Half of my walk takes place on the “main road,” a rather narrow rural street with no sidewalks where even during the slowest months, the chance of meeting a fellow traveller or two is high.

Good morning.

Hello!

Nice day today!

Thank you…

Why are we gambling with lives in a rush to re-open public school buildings?

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I just left Walgreens where I bought a new thermometer. I had registered a temp of 99.9 degrees F at a funeral service this morning and wanted to be sure that the reading had more to do with the heat of the sun outside than it did with my own internal temperature.

As I checked out, the clerk asked if I would like to make a donation to “teachers.” She explained that the funds would make possible the donation of supplies this coming school year.

I am a teacher. I made a donation.

The next clerk over said, “People have…

From Pet Parents Who Have Taken It a Little Too Far

Baby Boomers are spoiling their pets so lavishly that they are helping to create the next Generation P

I had breakfast this morning, al fresco, at a sweet little bakery in a beach side town. I was with Joe and Myles. Joe is my husband. Myles is our five pound Yorkie. We three spent the entire meal talking with the people at the next table. The conversation centered solely around their six-month old pup, and our sweet old guy. Our neighbors were cooing and clucking and baby-talking the entire time. Maybe we did a bit of that as well. …

As stories of Providence’s long-serving, twice-convicted mayor stubbornly persist in print, podcast and play, it’s time to introduce the Buddy Cianci that I knew.

This is the story of two interviews. The first took place two months after I took a new job in Providence as a reporter for a fledgling weekly, and the second, when I was about to resign as that same paper’s managing editor nearly seven years later.

I left an editor’s position at a Newport (R.I.) newspaper for a job closer to home, where I joined the staff of Providence weekly with the promise of a…

I don’t know how to become an old lady.

Some 17,721,671 Americans underwent a cosmetic procedure last year, according to the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, up 163% since 2000. Of those, 15.9 million opted for the “minimally invasive procedures” we call injections. People are getting smoother. But have we forgotten how to get old?

I’m starting to look like the Night King. This was a sudden revelation while still in my own Game of Thrones afterglow, as I peered into a 15X LED Magnifying Mirror from Hell.

I can see him. He’s about to rear his ugly head, and place it on my shoulders. My good eye followed the faint lines on my cheeks that have no place to go but deeper. I squinted. Not good. I relaxed my muscles. Better. I decide that I can no longer use facial expressions.

I don’t know how to become an old lady. No one offers lessons…

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Temperatures were already at 90 degrees that morning last summer as my dog and I squeezed in a short walk before the carpet cleaner arrived. My dog is 16 years old, barely over five pounds, healthy but frail. In the silence of the late summer morning in our suburban neighborhood, he performed his duty expeditiously and without complaint as he decisively tried to pull me back to our cool house.

I will admit, I was multitasking. My sister was on my cell phone. We were in mid-conversation about a personal matter. Our chat was intense but brief, since she too…

Long before Scout Finch asked her Uncle Jack what a “whore lady” was, children have been putting their parents on the spot with their unfiltered questions.

We didn’t have to ask where babies came from. We found that information readily available right outside on Russo Street where scores of under-12s believed that they could accurately answer the question. It was there that my own introduction to sex ed began with: “Want to hear something gross?”

The information that ensued was confusing and irritating.

No. The questions we asked the adults in our lives, our parents, were a bit more immediate. Even practical.

“What does Heaven look like? And why can’t you remember it?” I asked my dad once. He admitted he did not know and could…

Doreen Picozzi

Looking at the world through a unique lens, with love, logic and a sense of humor. Former journalist, now teacher of high school journalism and English.

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