Stories from my Life
I have not been writing. Changes are afoot. Sometimes I look like the bassoonist in an orchestra but then come across like the little guy with a whistle. But I’m thinking myself away from all depression, depression being a form of self-oppression. Not wanting self-inflicted wounds, I’ve...
My friend Josef calls me for he is in need. Josef has been a lifelong friend. Generous, undemanding; he loved me the way I was. That was when I was fresh out of ballet school and he owned a luggage shop on 14th street in Manhattan. He once took up...
The word was, that this is Hefner‘s last Midsummer’s Night’s Eve Party. It had an Arabian Night’s theme, with huge tents, dragon-tailed out into the garden, looming over the spa, and over the unisex “changing rooms” which are lined with...
It’s the last day of March. For John and me, it is the first Sunday spending our day in the garden. I open my eyes and it’s “Oh, my God” . . . the sight of the flowers, colors composition. The warmth of the sun through my skin. I realize my son John, who has Down Syndrome and several...
