Fiction

Jack Day half smiled at the sight of his father sipping coffee in the kitchen beside the bay window he helped him install upon his mother’s request weeks before she passed away almost a year ago.

Part Two While still in the home port of Odessa, Nathan sent a telegram to Benjamin informing him of the name and route of the ship, so he could track their passage. Their room was spare, gray, and made of steel, with one small bunk and a rack...

It was a late afternoon in March, just after the turn of the 20th century. The air sparkled.                   A spring wedding was taking place. There was clapping, singing, and joy in the small shtetl...

“I’ve got something interesting to show you,” said Jackson Pollock’s nephew Ronald Stein. “In fact, you’re one of the few people who’ve ever seen it.” For a brief moment I imagined Stein was going to...

On Sept. 1, 1975, the day I moved to East Hampton from suburban New Jersey, New York magazine published an article, “Out Here in the Hamptons: Snapshots of the Literary Life,” by Anthony Haden-Guest.

I first met my Uncle Dave when I was 5 years old and he returned to our home in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, after serving in World War II.  My mom and her sister, Leah, Dave’s two sisters, threw a big welcome home party and roasted chickens...

According to Wikipedia, Adolph Hitler entertained dinner guests by whistling.                 Since June, 1945, stories have circulated of performances of Beethoven’s Ninth during which...

I grew up by the shore, was born there and spent my youth there. And I’m glad for it. I enjoyed my time there — the sea and sand and breezes. It was very pleasant indeed. Peaceful.

My ocean town struggles to pick up leaves, offer summer school, and keep our library open. Every day now more men stand at the railroad station, waiting to be chosen for work. Because it’s thought the Hispanics will work for less...