Mostly a Loner: A Memoir in Past and Present Tense

​My mother was smart, witty, self-centered, and a chronic alcoholic. My father—my anchor—was presumed lost at sea for ten terrifying days when I was seventeen. At twelve, I was sexually assaulted, triggering fierce independence rather than fear or shame. In my thirties and forties, I sailed alone across oceans, and fought to sustain a marriage to a man I loved more than he loved me. The marriage ended; I forged my own way. Then came the pandemic.

In the photo below, that’s me on my mother's lap, with my sister Layne to the right and Tommy to the left. Below that, the two of us with our father.

Mostly a Loner, now nearing completion, is told through two entwined narratives. The first spans a century and four continents—expatriatism, family secrets, personal trauma, strong bonds. The shorter, present-tense narrative unfolds​ near the shores of San Francisco Bay in the mandated solitude of Covid. In April of 2021, as America emerges from lockdown, I've forged a new relationship with the past—gratitude over grief—and the narratives merge.