So, it’s my job to make you laugh.

But my mother?

She’s been making people sob at their kitchen tables for DECADES as a writer for the Boston Herald and now the Boston Globe.

In fact, when I wrote for the Herald (#nepotism),  I sat next to the Sunday copy desk and, more often than not, I’d hear a copy editor yell to me: “OH MY GOD LAUREN, YOUR MOTHER IS KILLING ME” followed by that person blowing her nose and wiping tears from her eyes.

This column is one of those.

Dancing to Remember the Music of the Past

Mrs. X is lovely, a fellow passenger tells my husband and me. But she doesn't speak much. When asked a question, her husband always answers. Even if it's a simple question. We are seated with them one night at dinner and I meet her eyes. "Are you enjoying yourself?" I ask.