is a Boston-based journalist
has written several screenplays (including an award-winning one) that have been shopped around Los Angeles; she’s now seeking a new agent
a former correspondent for People magazine
grew up in a small town in New Jersey
is happy and gay
done lots of feminist activism
wrote a chapter of the book WalkBoston (2003)
started a popular series of Jamaica Plain walking tours
is interested in early American history, UFOs and other weird phenomena
Somehow, after turning 40, recreational vehicles exerted a pull on me that heretofore I’d never experienced. I was completely blindsided by it. After all, I grew up Jewish and middle class in New Jersey. No relatives of mine owned an RV and — being outside of the Sun Belt — none of my neighbors parked rusting RVs in their driveways. A few years ago I found myself surfing the net for RV information. Then I graduated to trawling in bookstores. Ultimately, I attended my first RV show. It took place in an exposition hall in Boston — again, not a mecca for RV enthusiasts. But it would do. My hankering for an RV was pretty consuming, but let’s be clear. I am not talking about a Class A motorhome, a “Greyhound-bus-on-steroids,” or even a Class C Winnebago. I am talking about a compact little Class B, the kind that packs all the essentials into a vehicle no larger than a cargo van. But before I go on, below you will find some useful information regarding midlife crises. Please post this on your refrigerator:
- Discontent with life and/or lifestyle that may have provided happiness for many years.
- Boredom with things/people that have hitherto held great interest
- Feeling adventurous and wanting to do something completely different
- Questioning the meaning of life, and the validity of decisions clearly and easily made years before
- Confusion about who you are or where your life is going.