My “Musings” posts will have no defined scope or purpose. I will be writing them just for fun as I strive to develop skill as a writer of creative non-fiction. I have a long way to go, but hope that others will find some of these posts thought-provoking or just fun to read.
I have long kept a secret that most who know me would find surprising.
My trip to the Vineyard, just one chapter in my futile quest for Lindsay Parker, was off to a farcical start.
When I ask friends what they’re up to these days a startling number of them tell me they’re “transitioning”– or thinking and worrying about it.
Last month I had to give the eulogy for my father, who passed away shortly before turning 90.
Survivors of the Dobbs Ferry High School class of 1970–including me–felt a tug to come together in this oddest of years at our 47th reunion.
I asked Angus about the wool: How and when are the sheep sheared? Who do you sell it to and what do they do with it? The answer was initially stunning.
There a great story behind this photo, proudly displayed outside the door of our NYC apartment.
The plan, if you could call it that, had been for me to hitchhike out to California and then up to Oregon.
It wasn’t my first job in the meat business. My short career in the industry began in the summer of 1968.
Within weeks of being diagnosed with a potentially fatal cancer, I set to work planning my funeral service.