I’m fine, thanks

A few years before she died, my grandmother started giving me stuff at every visit. It wasn’t fancy stuff. My grandmother wasn’t fancy. It was more like dish towels and the occasional knick-knack. I tried to talk her out of it. It felt ghoulish, like she was preparing to die and didn’t want all this …

It’s frigid cold outside and I’m wondering about Sal

I met Sal a few years ago, when I first taught a class at Rabbi Donna Berman’s genius Beat of the Street Center for Creative Learning. The class was on news writing, and was meant to augment what the journalists who were or had experienced homelessness were already doing very well with Hartford’s street newspaper, …