Not long ago, I wrote a blog on the transgender issue. The argument, I hoped, was both reasoned and well documented. Nonetheless, I expected push back. To my surprise, the response was muted. One reader did object to my remarks. Another noted I had gone out on a limb but didn’t
I never cried for my mother when she died, nor am I inclined to do so now, three months later. At first, I thought my behavior peculiar. A counselor assured me it wasn’t. “Some people need to hold on to their grief. You’ll cry when you’re ready.” As the weeks pass, I
I’m thinking today about the ways Covid-19 has rendered our society dysfunctional. We seem to blame the virus for much of what’s happened of late. For example, I scheduled a phone conference at 10 a.m. last Friday with one of my computer gurus. We had planned to do a trial run
When I was in college in the 1950s, my philosophy professor spent his summers at White Sands, New Mexico among a coven of NSA scientists. When I asked how much he knew about physics, he laughed and said, “Almost nothing.” He went on to explain his job at NSA was to visit the l
Sorry, I have no positive news about my search for an agent. I share this paucity of information to alert my fellow writers that getting New York’s attention isn’t a cakewalk. It’s harder than writing a book. Much harder. And there’s competition. Yes, J. K. Rowling won the
While browsing through the internet the other day, I learned about an exciting new discovery in quantum physics. Scientists have learned that some quantum particles adhere to one another, not by electromagnetism, as we supposed, but by something called the strong force. I will ventu
While the country is tearing itself apart with protests like CHOP, a call for racial justice, and outrage over laws requiring face masks, I mark the passing of three writers who, through their publications managed to change the world and did so without provoking violence: Kenneth Le
Waiting for Gadot, a play about waiting and written by Samuel Beckett, had its one-night performance at San Quentin in 1957. When it ended, the inmates were reported to have given the production a standing ovation. Few know better about waiting than prisoners, their lives on hold, and
I’ve always taken it for granted though I’ve cursed the long lines that result from staff shortages. Other than have a tooth pulled, I’d do anything to avoid the Post Office. I buy my stamps from the grocery store and mail my packages at a stationery shop around the corner fro
A friend sent me an email this morning to say that in honor of the times in which we live, she was writing a new version of the Jabberwock. I replied to her post as follows: “I woke up today with a new first stanza of the poem tumbling in my head.” For those who have yet to meet