Tag: Friends

  • Short Story Review: “Rate Your Happiness” by Catherine Lacey

    (The short story “Rate Your Happiness” by Catherine Lacey appeared in the April 13th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Tobias Nicolai

    When I finished reading Catherine Lacey’s “Rate Your Happiness” I was reminded of driving a car with a manual transmission. Especially when you don’t put the car in gear and still step on the gas which causes the engine to rev really high, but you don’t go anywhere. In this story, the narrator calls this “meaningless motion” and they’re right. And it’s also very frustrating.

    I understand that the theme of this story was existing in atrophy, and motion that leads to nowhere. Unfortunately, having a protagonist that doesn’t make a decision or choice leaves the ending of the story empty and unsatisfying. There is one sentence in the last paragraph which I think attempts to bring about a conclusion: “Louise returned to the street with real intent, finally carrying her contradictory desires with total clarity…” but I have to say that this sentence is being asking to do a whole lot of heavy lifting for this story. It implies that Louise has made a choice to accept who she is when it comes to how she has reacted to the situations the story has presented. Yet, is it truly a choice when the character is only acknowledging that they don’t make choices? Though an interesting philosophical question, it doesn’t work narratively.

    What “Rate Your Happiness” presents is something that feels akin to the first one or two chapters of a novel. There are a lot of moving parts here, and Lacy does a good job of balancing them in the narrative. No one idea, theme, or character dominates, and it all flows and ripples over each other creating the feeling of a very real and complicated character in the protagonist of Louise. In fact, I enjoyed all the characters that were presented in this story, and wanted to see and hear more from them.

    Like I said, if this was the first chapter of a novel, I’m hooked and I want to see how this plays out. As a short story, the engine is revving up, but we didn’t go anywhere.

  • Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!

    And it would be nice if the Cowboys won, too!

  • Earworm Wednesday: It Gets Ya at the Get-Go

    It’s the first 11 seconds of the song.

    But if I may defend for a second…

    It was 1998, and a very good friend of mine let me borrow Wave of Mutilation: Best of Pixies. I knew nothing about Pixies, but as soon as I listened to that album, I pretty much played it non-stop for two months. (I will also admit that another good friend of mine tried to get me to listen to Surfer Rosa a year earlier, but it didn’t take so that doesn’t count.) The first good friend was very proud of themselves for converting me to be a Pixies fan, and my reward was him doing a spot on impression of these first 11 seconds of “Broken Face.” Not only does those 11 seconds get stuck in my head, but I can also see my friend’s face as he sung them to me – usually in his car as he drove us to a bar.

  • Good Ol’ Vermont

    We got away for one last Summer trip over Labor Day Weekend, and this is something that we never do – travel over Labor Day that is. In fact, this might be the first trip I ever did on this weekend. Most of the time, we are in the City, and do something in Central Park, or most often, we don’t do anything.

    This year, we got an invitation from friends in Vermont to come and visit them, and it was hard to pass it up. I love New York City, but there is also something great about leaving New York City, especially when it’s hot out.

    We made the most of our short amount of time. Got on the road early to beat the crowds, and really, once you get past Springfield, MA, it’s like you are just driving in the woods. And the further north we went, obviously, the cool it got. This allowed me to do my most favorite thing in the whole wide world, which is wear a sweater in August. I might have been sweating a little, but it was in the 60’s and that was good enough for me.

    But in all honesty, it was nice to be in a place where it was cool at night, with crickets chirping, and the stars all above. It was fun to have the kids playing and the adults talking in the next room. There was morning disc golf and an afternoon hike to a hidden waterfall. Even got some swimming in, which the kid liked.

    And as we drove home, we noticed that the very tops of the tress had started to change color. Little specks of red, yellow and orange were beginning to show up. As if right on cue. As one season ended, we could see the other one about to enter.

  • Summer Camp and Growing Up

    The wife and I got back from dropping the kid off at her all girls Summer camp. It’s a sleep away camp and she loves it. I can honestly say that she looks forward to it all year. When she gets home from camp, we get a month, or maybe two, before she starts talking about how she can’t wait to go back.

    This year, unlike the previous two, the kid wanted me and the wife to come into camp, so she could show us around, and this way, we’d know what she was experiencing, and put a place to the locations she had told us about. You see, the two previous summers, the kid has wanted to go into camp alone, and do it all by herself. We were and still are, all for her independence and if this is the healthy way that she starts to break away from us, we’re all for it. Still hurts a little – we want her to still need us, but the right thing is that she needs to become her own person, independent of us.

    So, this year when she wanted us to come in, we were a tad taken aback. We weren’t going to say no to this invitation, but still a little surprised that the third year in, now she wanted us to see it.

    Growing up in Texas, I barely knew anyone who went to a sleep away Summer camp. There were Boy Scout and Girl Scout camps, but those usually took place over a three-day weekend, and were about getting badges and stuff. Sleep away camp was about having fun, or at least that’s what TV and movies made it look like. Besides, sleep away camp seemed to be something that only happened in the Northeast. Down in Texas, we spent three months sleeping in, watching tv, riding bikes through the neighborhood, and playing until dinner time. Oh, and trying to stay out of trouble.

    So, I was curious what camp is like.

    And what I learned from my daughter was nothing. I could see it dawn on her as we parked the car and started to cross over the river to get to the camp that she had made a mistake bringing us. She got all tense, wouldn’t talk (and our kid loves to talk), and when we did ask her a question, she would only give us one-word answers. She wasn’t behaving like herself. When we got to her tent, a group of her friends came running up to her, and they all started hugging, laughing, and talking about what they had been up to – the kid returned to her normal self. She is a good kid and pulled away from her friends to show us her tent and we helped set up her bed, but the wife and I could feel her was desperate to get back to her friends. So, we gave her a hug and a kiss, told her to have fun, and watched her run off to her friends.

    I still have no idea what the camp is like.

    Which isn’t true, as the councilors and the staff were great and did show us around, and made us feel very welcome. But I didn’t get to see the camp from the kid’s perspective.

    And as the wife and I drove back to New York, I told my her my theory why it was a mistake to bring us into camp. See, I get that kids want to share stuff with their parents, and our kid is no different. But that camp, for the past two years, had just been hers. We had dropped her off, and she crossed that river by herself, and everything we knew about camp, she had to tell us. We stayed on one side, and she got to go to the other. It was her private place that only she knew about, that she had experienced alone – it was her thing, not ours. I think she had her first realization that in life there are some things you don’t want to share. That you want to keep all for yourself.

    That’s true for me. There are things that I have experienced that are mine. That I hold onto and I cherish. They’re not nefarious experiences; they’re just mine, and they make me happy.

    The kid is beginning to build those memories for herself now. Which is good. She’s growing up.