SEARCH: The Lighter Side: Name That Therapy

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The Lighter Side: Name That Therapy

by Tim Reynolds

My family has been around for a long time, as I’m sure yours has. For too many generations to count, the Reynolds Family Tree has been full of greats and not-so-greats, but I think the time has finally come for us to get some serious, professional therapy.

Our arboreal graphic includes sailing over on The Mayflower, acquiring the rights to Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket for 40 pounds and two beaver skin hats, the longest missionary effort in Christendom, involvement in the American Revolution, being chased out of the US after said revolution, bringing Canada together as a nation, and being present at the Russian Revolution. Fidel Castro even tried to recruit my Navy pilot father to help him take back his homeland from some dictator name Batista, but that’s a story for another time.

I used to think that the shadiest part of my family history was being chased out of Salem, Massachusetts way back when, but then I happened to look a wee bit closer at the more recent sections of this glorious Tree of Me. My concern really took root when I looked at my own parents…read more in the Fall issue of SEARCH Magazine.

SEARCH: Defying Death to Impress a Girl

In the Summer Issue of SEARCH Magazine,
Defying Death to Impress a Girl
by Tim Reynolds

timI was once a reckless teenage idiot, and to prove it, I’ll tell you, my faithful SEARCH readers, a true story.

Some facts. Her name was Marla, we were both eighteen, and we worked at a suburban summer day camp. I was a non-swimmer, mostly because I was so skinny I sank like a stone and could never pass the tests. I was also a magician—with a crush.

Ironically, one of my jobs at camp was to teach swimming, which was fine, just so long as I stayed out of the deep end. I even had students pass their beginners test before I did.

I performed my magic act for birthday parties or the occasional Bar Mitzvah, and it sometimes involved a Houdini-like escape from small chains locked around my wrists. The chains were real and so was the lock. If trouble happened on dry land, my assistant would use the key to release me from my humiliation. Of course, to impress Marla, I wasn’t going to escape on dry land. Reckless. Idiot…” to read the full article, check out the free eCopy here.