Memoir

I never got around to telling this story about the cabbage rolls and my father’s intestines. As I’ve said earlier, for family events, my mother would prepare cabbage rolls by the dozen. It was usually a major production for her, but she never asked for help. She prepared it all herself, creating dozens of them … Read more

Cabbage rolls are an ethnic dish. Very ethnic. Just the name evokes numerous cliches, and even sounds funny because of the “k” sound (which, according to Neil Simon’s The Sunshine Boys, all funny words contain). To smell them is to know, immediately, what the word ethnic really means. My mother used to make them, and … Read more

My neighbor made a mistake the other day, and I was happy to help the fix the problem. They went away on a Saturday morning with the intention of not returning until late Sunday. Their mistake was in forgetting about their dog, who was left alone in the house. When they called, I was happy … Read more

I am staging my return to blogging with a presentation of old Xmas letters. Back in 1996, we sent these short missives out with the Christmas cards, and I tried to be funny. Now, re-reading them, they are painfully moronic. My sign off messages are particularly sad. I think the author was an idiot. Still, … Read more

I had a nostalgic moment. I seem to have a lot of those, but this one was classic, or, rather, in the classical sense of nostalgia. I play the accordion. I’m not very good at it, have only been playing for a little more than three years, and there’s a lot to learn. I stopped … Read more