Monthly Archives: September 2013

A brief, misleading introduction to my mother

My mother started wearing pants in the early 60s, and all her clothes were black.  She cut her hair as short as a man’s and she dyed it black and she wore black pants and black sweaters and jackets to … Continue reading

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To play or not to play

Starting to write has ruined me for the stupid game of mahjong solitaire that I have been playing incessantly for too long.  The game is an exercise in concentration and calm, but for what?  It’s meaningless.  I worry about what … Continue reading

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Still crazy after all these years?

I woke up crying again today.  In my last dream before waking, someone had found him, I’d asked someone to get in touch with him and they’d found him and given him my message.  All I remember about the dream … Continue reading

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I’m worried about my ear (even cartilage gets old)

I know that one of these days I’ll put a towel behind my ear to dry it after a shower, and my ear won’t go back; it will be sticking out at a 90 degree angle for the rest of … Continue reading

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My Father’s Hands

I heard this story first from my mother, by phone, when I lived in Philadelphia. “Your father was up on the roof and he drilled a hole through the middle of his hand.” “Is he OK?” “Sure, he’s fine.” “Did … Continue reading

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