The alarm beep, beep, beeps and we jump behind the curtain shielding us from sensitive, Top Secret information coming in over the Comm system.
30 seconds later, the curtain slides back open and the missileers — one man and one woman — continue explaining their roles in this bunker, this completely secured capsule dozens of feet beneath the … where, I can’t tell you.
I think it was somewhere during my sixth or seventh trip up or down my daughter’s East Harlem apartment stairs that I realized just how lucky we are, how good we have it. Living on the fifth floor of an old building with terrible heat and no air conditioning, my daughter attended grad school at Columbia for two years.
The lack of heat wasn’t an issue as we moved her, though; outside it was 91 degrees. Inside it felt even hotter. But I can’t believe how fortunate we were, we are.Read More
After more than a year of insane political discourse — pre and post election — it’s good to divert our attention to something a bit less agonizing. But uh-oh, my favorite movies of 2016 also carry political and social baggage. Maybe that’s just a marquee of the times we live in now. We are lucky to live in a society where art can be a protest and a protester can create art. Enough with the previews; here are the five films that captured my attention this year.
35 years ago my not-yet roommate was belting a song on our college quad about a guy who died in a South African prison. “Who sings about stuff like that?” I wondered.
Peter Gabriel sings about stuff like that.
On that same quad, someone’s radio was playing a boppin’ song from a British band and to this day I remember my introduction to Sting as he sang with his band The Police.
Sting also sings politically charged songs. Peter Gabriel also sings boppin’ songs. They’re on tour together and I got to witness their synthesis last night at The Palace.
“Buckingham Palace?” my cousin Keith joked via text. No, although they’re both British, this was at The Palace of Auburn Hills, Michigan.
Thank God my brother was working from home when the umpteenth butthole with a gun this year walked into Dean’s usual place of work and shot someone, then killed himself. That was the other day at UCLA. By the time you read this, another gun tragedy (or twenty) will have taken place, guaranteed.
My mom was shaking when she heard the news. So was my brother. So was my friend whose son studies on campus and passes that building every day.
My grandfather used to say that before 1916, the world was ruthless. My grandmother, Ruth Harris Adams, was born in 1916. If the world was ruthless before that date, I can only guess that afterwards it was ruthmore, ruthful? Ol’ granddad passed on before completing his silly pun. Grandma Ruth lives on.
The Boston Globe has been publishing my New Hampshire memories.
Here’s the latest, featuring a much younger Bill Clinton.
Democratic candidate Bill Clinton speaks at the New Hampshire statehouse
in the early 1990s. This photograph hung in the White House for years,
according to then President Clinton’s secretary.