It’s taken me a long time but I think I’ve figured it out: my mom’s affinity for musicians who are good songwriters and poets but TERRIBLE singers has something to do with her being a writer. Let’s be real for a second … when you think of a “good” singer you think of someone like Etta James or … [Read more...] about The holy or the broken
The worlds of our (Jewish) mothers
Many years ago, as a single woman living in NYC, I would spend an occasional Saturday afternoon with my mother. A little shopping, a little eating, a little walking. On one visit, we sat at the dining table that dominated my two-room studio on the Upper West Side and, with absolute nonchalance, she … [Read more...] about The worlds of our (Jewish) mothers
Without Power
Saturday, September 3, 2011: The air is filled with anticipation. Irene is on her way. A friend who lives in lower Manhattan takes heed: an 8:48 a.m. train will deliver him, with his son, to the exurban community I live in, about an hour north of the city. If Irene is as fierce as … [Read more...] about Without Power
