When my son Finn wants to go to the pool he will point at a swimsuit. It doesn’t have to be his swimsuit. It could be mine, or his sister’s, or even a just beach towel left by the door. Without the benefit of language typical of boys his age — 14 going on 15 — Finn still makes his wants known. And he wants to go swimming.
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WBUR: The $50 I can never spend
On a recent deep clean to pass the hours stuck inside, I unearthed a bill in the back of my desk drawer. I turned to my husband, Jeff: “Look, here’s that $50 I can’t spend!”
I’ve had this $50 bill since 2006. Before that, it was my maternal grandfather’s. After my mom died in a freak car accident when I was three, I spent every summer at her parents’ home in Kewanee, a small town in central Illinois. My grandfather was the chief radiologist at the local hospital. Most people knew him as Dr. Binder, my grandmother called him Paul. I called him Grumpa.