All posts in the ‘ Real People ’ Category

January 2019: Pre-pandemic, pre-takeout only, pre-having to keep six feet away from the next person. The restaurants in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, are in full swing, offering food for stomach, eye, and spirit. We take the bus to the historic centro and explore. At the famed eatery called Hecho in Mexico, the food is artful–and so is the wall space.                 It’s hung with the paintings of Canadian Olympic skater and human …Read More

“Spectacular!” “Amazing!” “Fabulous!” “Exquisite!” “Unreal!” A visit to the Chihuly Garden and Glass installation in Seattle last month made me think my superlatives needed to be traded in, the same way I feel about my clothes. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious came to mind, but songwriters Richard Sherman and Robert Sherman beat me to that one. Dale Chihuly’s work inspires activity in different media, and the programming at the Garden reflects that. They’ve got workshops in dance, photography, drawing, and yoga coming up. …Read More

According to an Internet meme I’ve seen lately: “You can’t buy happiness, but you can buy local, which is sort of the same thing.” This morning, in Concord, NH, I felt that not only could I buy happiness, I could simply absorb it by walking around the weekly Farmers’ Market. What a scene! Moms and dads with strollers, babies in backpacks, kids getting their faces painted, dogs socializing with people and with other dogs, live music.   There was a …Read More

My sister Lee Woodman has had a distinguished career in the arts and media production and has held senior leadership positions at the Smithsonian Institution. Her radio and film awards include five Cines, two New York International Film Blue Ribbons, and three Gracies from American Women in Radio and Television. Now, she’s writing stunning poems. Her first published poem appeared in Tiferet Journal this January. It is called “Understood Pasts and Unspoken Futures.” I was honored to figure in the …Read More

My father was born 100 years ago today. I am taking the liberty of posting the eulogy I gave at his memorial service, August 25, 2007, at the Ware Student Center, Colby-Sawyer College, New London, NH. He was President of the college 1962-1972. It was then called Colby Junior College. To my dad: In the thrifty way of his time, Dr. James B. Woodman of Franklin recorded his expenses in a notebook. In February, 1916, he jotted down …Read More

My mother’s mother, Helen Randolph, had enormous charm. Even as a very old lady, she’d walk into a room and captivate everyone there, from age eight to eighty. In her honor, her hairdresser once proclaimed “Helen Randolph Day,” and served champagne to my grandmother and her friends as they sat under the beehive-shaped dryers. I was amused when I found this tidbit from the 1910 yearbook of Alfred University. “Here’s Helen, you’ve seen her with Jake Poor lad, …Read More

It’s Veteran’s Day. Ninety-seven years ago, shortly after 5:00 AM, Paris time, French, British, and German delegations signed an agreement to have the shooting of the Great War stop at 11:00 AM. On this day of the year,  I experience a sense of time warp, a feeling of being transported back to a moment in history. The savage noise of the guns is–for a little while, anyway–replaced by an enormous sacred silence. The two world wars form a big …Read More

Robert Frost wrote, “Nobody was ever meant, to remember or invent, what he did with every cent,” but my grandfather obviously disagreed. He tracked his expenses–to all appearances every nickel–in a slim little book with an oxblood red leather cover. His record-keeping started in June, 1910, when he was looking forward to his wedding in October. The first item entered (for $50) was  “Ring.” In September, he listed several things that would furnish the couple’s new residence–chairs (one Morris, one …Read More

Everyone gets assigned a different war. My dad, Ev Woodman, served in the United States Navy in World War II and took part in the invasion of Normandy. Deafening noise, shells bursting on the beach, the ocean running pink with blood—he got the whole infernal nightmare. His dad, in contrast, didn’t get to France until shortly after the Armistice in World War I. James B. Woodman, M.D., was quickly put to work doing “reconstructive surgery” on the wounded, …Read More

I remember my grandmother Ethel as a dignified white-haired lady who walked with a cane, but I’m told that she was feisty in her younger years. She learned to drive an automobile early on and apparently was a fearless cyclist. So there must have been great excitement when her family bought “the first bicycle,” as someone labelled this picture. That would have been in the mid-1890s. Left to right: my great-grandmother Ida, looking uncharacteristically laid back; my grandmother …Read More