I’ve never read a book by John Updike, mainly because he was never required in college and I identified him with “the boys,” who included Philip Roth, Saul Bellow, and touching upon Ernest Hemmingway and Norman Mailer, writers whom I have read but whose world view I don’t much
“Getting knocked down is one thing—being a coward is something else.” So says, Sally Field who knows a thing or two about getting knocked down. She won her first Academy Award for her performance in the film, Norma Rae, (1979) but it was a role for which she was not the studio
I surprised myself this morning and not pleasantly. After spending weeks trying to renew my mother’s handicapped parking placard with the Department of Motor Vehicles, I found the one I’d obtained earlier in my glove compartment. Now I had two placards with different numbers. What
“…only a lucky writer can write a classic, and it’s only a rare classic that can be perennially relevant.” So writes Lauren Groff in her essay, “The Lost Yearling” (Harper’s, Jan. 2014, pgs. 89-94), a eulogy of sorts, for the fading Pulitzer prize book, The Yearling, wri
The mother of someone I know is dying. The fact is sad, naturally. But the situation is not unusual. One of the last lessons parents have to teach is that we are mortal. The manner of their leaving may be difficult or filled with reconciliation and letting go. Either way, their passin
The edits on my memoir have returned, so for the next several weeks, I’ll be focusing on rewrites. I’ve been working on this book for the past two years and, at the current rate, I fear it may take me longer to draft my recollections of past events than to have lived them. If
Being 80-something, I get it when Democratic campaigner Joe Biden talks about record players, or President Donald Trump quips he will “tape” a program to view later. Both men are septuagenarian, kids by my reckoning, but old enough to be comfortable with earlier norms. Yes, it may
Recently, someone on Facebook broke into a political discussion to suggest the debate was irrelevant. Life was predetermined and free will didn’t exist. The comment took me back to my undergraduate days as a student of philosophy. Even so, I didn’t reply. I knew kissing my elbow w
I sat down to brunch with friends, recently, a long overdue pleasure. As they were friends, they asked how my memoir was progressing. “Oh,” I replied, the genre isn’t called a memoir anymore. It’s referred to as “literary nonfiction.” “What’s the difference?” The
A week ago, I sat down to lunch with two women who are notable because they’ve dedicated themselves to advancing gender equality. The two had never met, so I brought them together to see what synergism might evolve. The meeting went well, a perfect example of women reaching out to s