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Articles written by Carrie Classon

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The Postscript: No coffee

Peter was up before anyone else - as he often is. My husband, Peter, gets up early in order to have enough time to brood before busybodies like me expect him to engage in cheerful conversation. But...

 

The Postscript: Marriage stew

I told my husband, Peter, that our marriage was like stew — and that’s a good thing. This is a second marriage for both Peter and me. We were both married for a long time and then divorced for quite a while. We dated other people and realized...

 

The Postscript: Blessings in disguise

They say that blessings come in disguise. If so, my blessings are poorly disguised. They show up wearing false noses and funny eyeglasses and are instantly recognizable unless I am being completely thick-headed — and it is astonishing how often I a...

 

The PostScript: Not popular

I was not popular in high school. Everyone says this. I now realize that no one — not even the most popular person in high school — self-identifies as popular. Lately I’ve been getting a lot of Facebook friend requests from people I scarcely...

 

The Postscript: Second sunset

I spent the last couple weeks visiting my parents. I’ve been lucky in the parent department. It’s fashionable to recall some pivotal incident that occurred when we were eight and extrapolate how every difficulty experienced in our life since is...

 

The Postscript: Made to last

She wore it for one day in 1919 and it looked as if it was sewn with this in mind. My grandma’s wedding dress was more than a little worse for wear. It had been folded up in a small box and kept safe by my cousin, Jill. (How Jill ended up with it,...

 

The Postscript: Dusty surprises

The surprises just kept coming. When I moved in with Peter a few years back, I brought my clothes, a few books, and some artwork. I rented out my house, gave away my furniture, and everything else was consigned to “things I’ll deal with...

 

The Postscript: The Wren House

Nobody was using the old wren house. My grandfather built it. Grandpa started building birdhouses when he retired from milking cows and his second oldest son took over. That son, my mother’s brother, is now 87 and retired 20 years ago. It’s a...

 

The Postscript: Marital privilege

I’ve been having my husband, Peter, cut my hair. I’m not sure I would recommend this to everyone, but I have almost no hair. Actually, I have the usual number of hairs, but they are so fine that a hair that falls from my head into the sink is...

 

The Postscript: Summer birthdays

It was my birthday this week. Those of you with summer birthdays know it’s a little different. In the middle of March, everyone says, “Wow! A birthday party!” You bring treats to school and everyone is happy for an excuse to celebrate. It’s...

 

"Singing Lessons"

I’m having fun singing. I started singing lessons a few weeks ago. My teacher lives out of town, but every other week she teaches in her parents’ house — the house she grew up in — just a few minutes away. So, I drive to a little house in...

 
 By Carrie Classon    Opinion    July 3, 2019

The Postscript: Anniversary toast

This past week, my parents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary and I stood in front of the greeting card rack for a very long time. Whenever I try to buy a card for my mom or dad, I have a heck of a hard time. I almost bought a “blank...

 

The Postscript: Happy anniversary

I started The Postscript exactly one year ago. I am more than a little superstitious when it comes to numbers. When I wrote the first draft of my memoir, “Blue Yarn,” I had an even number of chapters in all three sections. This was probably...

 

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