Tag Archives: New York City
The Blame Game
The Blame Game We don’t start life with a clean slate. Childhood is the time we spend figuring out what kind of a hand of cards we’ve been dealt and how to start playing it. What happens to us – … Continue reading
Paying Nostalgia Forward
Paying Nostalgia Forward Jerry and I celebrated our eighteenth wedding anniversary last Friday. We watched the inauguration (moving right along here), and then drove through the rain to a Hindu temple in New Jersey that the wonderful lady who runs … Continue reading
“What the Fortune Cookie Said”
“What the Fortune Cookie Said” In the last few weeks, whenever we’ve brought home supper from the Chinese take-out place, and opened the fortune cookie, mine has been deplorable. Things like, “When climbing the hill of difficulty, don’t slip and … Continue reading
“Fighting the Good Fight”
“Fighting the Good Fight” Sometimes, you just can’t. A woman I knew ran a beauty salon in New York City. She had an only son, the light of her life, who got involved with drugs. He became a dealer, offended … Continue reading
“Being Brave”
“Being Brave” Nobody wants to think of herself as a whining, sniveling, cowering coward. At the same time, one of the advantages of the female sex is that (forgive me, sisterhood!) we are not expected to wear such courage as … Continue reading
“Worldliness”
“Worldliness” My father, the late Henry M. Rosenthal, was the antithesis of a worldly man. “He never made a useful friend,” as someone said who was well placed to know. Speaking at his memorial service, a college classmate recalled, “We … Continue reading
“Blue Jeans”
“Blue Jeans” I may be wrong, but it’s my sincere belief that I was the first woman north of Greenwich Village to put on blue jeans for daily wear in Manhattan. At least, when I began the practice, it was … Continue reading
“The Coat”
“The Coat” The other day, I could not find my coat. I’d sat through one edifying lecture too many, during which I’d had trouble not falling to the floor from sheer fatigue. Afterward, famished, I’d stopped at my café for … Continue reading
