Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.~Pierce Harris, Atlanta Journal Note to readers: Before Richard and Reva Beard adopted me, the bond between them intensified. With each year of courtship, marriage and — most of all — through their World War II separation, they imagined the family they would build. The war made that dream even stronger. Though separated by 6,000 miles and 18 months, they corresponded every day. The letters were relegated to a file case in my parents retirement home. After D ..read more

Things are in the saddle, And ride mankind. — Ralph Waldo Emerson Things old things new things to be discarded things to be saved. things shopworn things spiffy things I’ll never miss things I can’t live without. — Elaine Pinkerton When moving last spring, I parted with thousands of things. Large and small. Inevitably some were items I might regret giving away. Despite good intentions, I would now and then throw out a “thing” I should have kept. But in the frenzy of clearing out and relocating, how could that have been avoided? What to do with things to be discarded? Donate, donate, donate ..read more

I used to believe I would age in place. When I visited my son and his family last Christmas, I began to think differently. “Mom,” the son blurted “maybe you consider moving. You know. Downsizing.”  No doubt he had been mulling over this idea for a long time. My home of 49 years was spacious and beautiful, and its land, nearly two acres, was ideally located next to foothills of the Rockies, the Sangre de Cristo mountains. So many memories. At this address, I’d grown vegetables and flowers, built a labyrinth, seen generations of meandering mule deer from the nearby arroyo, harvested apples ..read more

Note from Elaine: In her memory, I’m republishing haiku created by my late friend Roberta Fine. Roberta lives on in the hearts of her family and many friends. Her beautifully crafted images capture much of what there is to love in northern New Mexico. Join Roberta as she takes you through Northern New Mexico’s palette with intimate details, sweeping panoramas, and all kinds of weather! Grace Notes of 2016 in Jaconita A form that’s perfect for today. by Roberta Fine JANUARY Snow enhancing trash. Crystal-crusted broken hoe Crowned by red-topped finch. FEBRUARY Wrinkled, folded hills Holding an ..read more

Or Getting Rid of Too Much Stuff Six months ago, when my son mentioned that it was time for me to live a simpler lifestyle, I agreed. My husband Bob had been gone for two decades. The time to downsize was overdue. I wanted to remain in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Son and I found a perfect senior community, The Montecito, just a few miles from the home I’d occupied for 50 years. A major challenge: I would be going from 2,000 to 670 square feet. Thus began major decluttering. Little did I realize how much the old house had tucked away. Closets, shelves, drawers, cabinets, the garage, and numerous noo ..read more

(This is a republication of the March posting from 2023). March seems to be a month of “Anything Goes.” During this end of winter/beginning of spring, a lot happens: Change to Daylight Saving, Tax preparation, collecting seeds for spring gardening, St. Patrick’s Day, Oscar’s Night, the Ides of March. Here is Santa Fe, as we begin Spring, the weather is wildly unpredictable. One day it’s warm and sunny, the next may bring several inches of snow. In Tehran, where I lived in the 1960s, March signaled the beginning of a new Year. Naw Ruz (pronounced “No Ruse”), was, and still is, a time for festiv ..read more

White roses were my mom’s favorite flower My adoption history begins with a 1930s love story, that of my adoptive parents Richard and Reva Beard. They’d been teenage sweethearts in Findlay, Ohio, they married in 1937, and they put off starting their family until my father-to-be earned his doctorate from Ohio State University. For six years, while Richard earned his PhD in clinical psychology, Reva taught elementary school. When it turned out that they were not able to have children, they decided to adopt. The outbreak of World War II, however, further delayed the formation of a family. Richard ..read more

“Secondary rejection” is a well-known term in the adoption world. It refers to the disappointment, hurt, or rejection that adoptees and/or birth relatives experience as they attempt to connect with family members they lost to adoption. The first rejection is adoption itself, which adoption writer, Nancy Verrier, aptly termed the “primal wound.” A secondary rejection shows up when:  – a birth mother is reluctant to share the secret of an unplanned pregnancy with a spouse or family member – a birth parent or adoptee declines to facilitate introductions to relatives and friends  – heal ..read more

Nearly half a century ago, a group of women in my neighborhood founded a running and brunch club. I was one of those Founding Mothers. Actually, most of us were runners then. Today, it’s mainly walking. We met at a different home each month, ran three to five miles, and returned to enjoy a potluck brunch. Recently, at my house, we celebrated our founding. More about the house later. Why, you might be wondering, did we choose the name “Glow Club,” rather than something like “Santa Fe Strollers” or “Women Walkers.” It’s because of longtime member Dede, who quipped, “Men sweat but women glow.” N ..read more

The good news is that I’ve decided to sell my house and move to a senior community. I look forward to a simpler life. The bad news is that I’ve just spent my last Christmas at the old place and it leaves me feeling nostalgic, bereft, and sad. I will miss the beautiful, rambling ranch-style home that’s taken care of me for 49 years. It’s not that I wanted to leave but the time had come for a smaller place, a simpler lifestyle that would allow more time to write. Less time maintaining a large house and yard. I turned 80. As I entered another decade, I realized that the time was now. Now, while ..read more