57/365 Lizzie, my granddaughter

Her mother’s independent spirit, her uncle’s wisdom, her aunt’s spiritual insight and creativity, and my sense of humor—in a teenager who is smart, affectionate, gorgeous, and always so much fun. Oh, yeah—and she’s got my hair (lucky girl!).

56/365 Jerry

In church, the Lord’s Prayer commenced. In one pew, Jerry “prayed” by mumbling nonsense in his two-year-old grandson’s ear. The congregation recited; grandson laughed. His giggles pealed over the sound of the prayer. Well aware of this, Jerry kept mumbling.

55/365 Kellie

“You see how rotten my mother is?” she asked on the phone, her voice weak but bitterly angry. We were discussing the various hurts her mother had inflicted. I completely agreed, but should I say so to someone terminally ill?

54/365 Bob

We never got to know each other all that well, but two things made an indelible impression on me: his ’62 Corvette (oh joy!) and the sweet, fancy card he had the Post Office deliver to me on Christmas morning.

53/365 Greta

Greta and I were secretaries at a big corporation. Plain but stylish, she later worked for an upscale Manhattan department store where she found a younger husband and got crab lice from the employees’ rest room (not in that order).

52/365 Mr. Bader

What an unfortunate name for a high school guidance counselor. What an unfortunate name for a high school guidance counselor. What an unfortunate name for a high school guidance counselor. What an unfortunate name for a high school guidance counselor.

51/365 Rennie

Rennie has battled cancer for years. Ultra handsome, big grin, marvelous voice, great sense of humor, and that uniform!—Rennie was the quintessential airline captain. Any flight attendant would fall madly in love with him. And my dear cousin did.

50/365 Cord and Janie

I passed up their pot brownies and cringed at their doorless hippie bathroom. But we found common ground and more in music, in humor, in our children. I photographed their son’s birth at home, woodstove going, tea simmering, tears flowing.

49/365 Bree

We were Lucy and Ethel, but we were also like Maxine Kumin and Anne Sexton, who kept their phone lines open to one another even when they weren’t on the phone. I still maintain her move to Vail was irrational.

48/365 Roscoe

Don’t get him started on the subject of Coltrane. He’ll tell you he was Trane’s best friend. He’ll describe the memorial service, including details he observed from the front row. He’ll cry. You’ll never guess he barely knew the man.

47/365 Jared

Jared was my oldest daughter’s first boyfriend. When they split, I wrote him a letter saying I’d miss him. Their teacher said she loved him. I said, “Yeah, he’s a great guy.” She said, “No—I mean really love him.”

46/365 Nurse T.

I had publicly attacked the hospital, and then unexpectedly found my newborn and myself at its mercy. Two days postpartum, I was permitted no shower and given no food, no water, no supplies of any kind. Until Nurse T. arrived.

45/365 Denis

Denis was my boyfriend's best friend, so all I could do was lust silently. He wrote long letters when he was in the Navy, and brought me Chanel No. 5 from Paris. I like to think he lusted silently, too.

44/365 Lindsay

Lindsay speaks so rapidly I have to stop her. I want to hear every word. But she says little about herself, directing the conversation to me and mine. Her talent as an illustrator is stunning. She says it’s her brush.

43/365 Paul

My husband and I spent the Great Blackout of 1965 with this famous jazz musician. When I climbed 28 long flights of stairs after dinner, Paul was waiting at the top. Blinded by scotch, he told me I was adorable.

42/365 Belle

Never far from our guitars, Belle and I sang together more than we talked. She had a model’s bones and height, long lovely arms, and a sexual insecurity I never fully understood. None of the rest of us had it.

41/365 The Teenager Who Was Later Murdered

He bopped down the discount store aisle, eyes closed, singing “Love Potion #9... “I didn’t know if it was day or night…” I sang the next line back to him. His eyes flew open—his huge grin was a gift.

40/365 The Irish Couple Across the Hall

He was a fireman, tall, with wavy black hair. She was short, a great deal older, and rarely left their apartment. They did a lot of drinking, a lot of fighting. Their ancient parrot loved them and hated everyone else.