Author Archive

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...


Ballet lessons

“Dear Melba Cortez: “I was seven years old when my parents enrolled me in your school. I was nine when we moved to the suburbs. It was then that I made my final (and finest) ... read more...


The Awe (and Aaah) Factor

Being in Los Angeles brings out the film fanatic in me. It starts when, looking up at the hills, I see the gigantic HOLLYWOOD sign proclaiming that I am in the Land of Make B... read more...


The Island of Lost Books

Today, I had one of those ‘gone but not forgotten” moments. It involved my friend, Betty Ulius, who died many years ago. Like me, Betty was a writer. Unlike me, Betty’s hom... read more...


When Butterball Turkeys Collide

This isn’t about my sister Selma. It isn’t even really about eavesdropping on Selma and her friend Ellen. It’s about girls and giggling and what a cultural barbarian I am an... read more...


A heroine for our times

She has the high cheekbones and long, lean body of a fashion model. She has the eyes of a seeker of truths. She has the background of an Islamic terrorist. Her name is Ayaan ... read more...


Nine planets. That’s right. Nine.

Quick. How many dwarfs are there and what are their names? Stick out your fingers and tally them off: Grumpy. Sleepy. Doc. Bashful. Happy. Sneezy. Dopey. Seven. Count ‘em. Se... read more...



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