People & Family

He’s her heart and soul. And, blind to warning signs, she does everything to make him happy. Then one day, after she’s fixed his favorite dinner, he takes two bites of macaroni, knocks dishes to the floor and screams that she didn’t add enough cheese

My mother was standing in a hotel room in Virginia Beach a few weeks ago, snapping open a small box and pulling out a tangle of necklace, when a thin gold band tumbled out with it. She saw it and laughed. My sister Meg saw

The New York Times Magazine editor calls Sally Mann two or three times a year offering assignments. Jodi Foster, Al Gore, a dead body in Tennessee. “And I have to turn her down,” says Mann. “I don’t do editorial work.”

Fifteen years ago, I would have been mortified. I’m driving downtown on a cool spring Saturday evening, headed to Hotel Roanoke. I’m going to the prom. My first prom since 1991.

Doc Watson is a legend in mountain music. Now 81 years old, he’s not had an easy life, starting with a childhood infection that left him blind from his first few years of life.

My 80-something mother and I recently drove the Blue Ridge Parkway to the hot mineral baths of Hot Springs, North Carolina, about 35 miles northwest of Asheville. Mom had broken her hip and we sought the mineral baths as a therapeutic treatment.