Strange, isn’t it, that two dedicated psychotherapists with criminal pasts would wind up helping hundreds of patients? We tend to see good people as essentially good, and bad people as stripped of decency. These two men were complicated combinations not of good and evil, but of the circumstances that formed them. Though both are dead, I won’t...
I’ve never considered myself a particularly brave person. I’ve taken plenty of career risks and had some daring adventures, but when it comes to hazardous or physically dangerous activities like skiing, bungee-jumping, skydiving, or mountain-climbing, I watch from a safe distance.
“Masticate your food,” Uncle Moe said. He and Aunt Blanche had joined my parents, me, and my sister, Nina, on a vacation in the Catskills, at a place called the Vegetarian Hotel, which we had nicknamed “the Veggie.”
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A half-century ago, I took part in what could only be called a great experiment. Would deafening decibels of 55,000 screaming teenagers result in loss of hearing? Would Brownie camera flashbulbs simultaneously popping off cause little black dots to impair my vision by being forever affixed before my eyes?
Janice’s feet were in the stirrups and a sheet was covering her Brazilian waxed parts when she asked her gynecologist, “Why do I feel like I want to join a nunnery? I’d rather go to the dentist than have sex.”
A man craggy as granite rock had a habit of putting the flag up on his mailbox. He never had anything to mail, nor did the mail deliver much of anything except circulars, which he pasted to cylindrical form before burning them in his porcelain kitchen sink. Those paper stacks emitted their smoke out the kitchen window, and curious neighbors said...