Author Archive

A far away country

Samuel Reuben. A solid series of consonants and vowels composing a solid-sounding name that looked strong and reliable on the return addresses of all the letters and packages... read more...


The Art Institute

When I was growing up, the Art Institute of Chicago had a real, honest-to-goodness treasure chest behind the central staircase on the main floor. This was not just a plain box... read more...


Do you know where Daddy is?

As I write this, it is 11:00 o’clock at night and my eighty-year old Uncle Jack is in town on a business trip. He arrived at Newark Airport at 1:00 o’clock this morning. He wa... read more...


Gurgling with delight

Every letter that my father wrote…all…all had about them an empurpled intensity … a flair … an escalation of objects and events out of the mundane and into the celestial. ... read more...


Sell the tuxedos?

The spirit of Uncle Jack, my father’s brother, was manifested by both a steel safe and a gigantic roll of string. Uncle Jack and Aunt Libby recently moved from Highland Park, ... read more...


Deluxe Tuxedo Rental

Deluxe Tuxedo Rental was the name of the store that my father owned and operated on the South Side of Chicago. The things I recall about the store itself are few: There was a ... read more...


Dear Dad. I Just bought a motorcycle!

Every letter that my father wrote … all … all had about them an empurpled intensity… a flair … an escalation of objects and events out of the mundane and into the celestial. ... read more...


Dear Dad. I want to be a financial journalist!

Every letter that my father wrote … all … all had about them an empurpled intensity … a flair …an escalation of objects and events out of the mundane and into the celestial. ... read more...


Sam’s Chickadees Leave the Nest

I left home when I was eighteen years old. I had the electricity of youth agitating through my veins, and a misguided compass in my brain telling me that Polar North was New Y... read more...


My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean

Samuel Reuben looked like a father, not like someone you would have an Oedipus complex about. He never seemed to have had a full head of hair, but early photographs indicate ... read more...


Love is Food. My Father, Apples and Oranges

I am in my bedroom with my sister, Selma. An imaginary center-line divides her side from mine. Her side has the chest of drawers and the door to the hall. My side has the extr... read more...


Come Home. Love Dad

Come Home. Love Dad Introducing Sam Reuben – Inventor, Poet, Husband ... Father I am writing this as a tribute to benevolence. As an attempt to immortalize sweet eccentr... read more...


The Fairy God Librarian

I was drowsing in a stuffy old armchair beside my window when I hear a sharp crack, as if something had grabbed onto either side of reality and ripped it apart. My eyes popp... read more...


I am in bed again ... with John

I admit. It has been a while. Years, even. But I will never forget that first time. My expectations? I didn’t have any. Nobody had ever told me about him. Not even in school... read more...


Be Kind. Rewind.

Last month, Cyd Charisse, the long-stemmed beauty who swirled her skirts and flashed her go-on-forever legs in MGM musicals, died. Elderly. Earthbound. From dust she came. T... read more...



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