Nothing beats fireworks on the Fourth. I remember when I was just a kid my parents would pack me and my brothers in the back of our beat up old Ford station-wagon and drive to the high school where they held the annual fireworks display. We’d stake out a spot, spreading our blanket on the
In light of this week’s news from the border, the above image is almost unbearable, right? In one breath, a child and parent celebrating diversity and acceptance. In another, from the turbulent waters of the Rio Grande, the diametric opposite. How can we derive hope from despair? Pride has changed. Before my son came out
These days when we talk about bravery, it often involves a mass shooting and first responders. The hero who flung himself on a gunman in a North Carolina classroom last week saved lives. I asked myself, would I have had the courage to do that? In the same newscycle, a young man named Matthew Easton
Just over 21 years ago, in an extraordinary flash of reproductive coincidence, my best friend and I bore witness to our respective wives giving birth to two children, 200 miles and a mere few hours apart. I realize this sounds a little like the beginning of a very cheesy (or brilliant!) novel, but in fact
It’s no surprise that Kim-Trang Blair was successful in business. One of four children raised in a traditional Vietnamese household, she recalls her mom and dad as “tiger parents” before that was even a thing. At an age where many are still waffling on career choices, Blair had already worked ten years, wed, had a
On a bright spring day 15 years ago I walked up a tree-lined block to a vacant garden apartment in the bottom of a Brooklyn brownstone. I held the hands of my two children, aged 4 and 6. We pushed open the door and a shaft of sunlight cut across the polished wood floor. “Okay
Becca Goldberg has never been keen on the word “No.” Not in college, where she invented her own major. Not in romance, where she handed her phone number to a guy she met at summer camp, who now plays the role of husband, top chef and Dad to their two young children. And not in
In my conservative estimation, I have made 4,128 meals for my two boys in a tiny galley kitchen in Brooklyn, New York. We set up shop after my divorce and for the next eight years they were with me week-on/week-off right through high school. That’s a lot of meatballs and spaghetti, macaroni and cheese. When
In 1981, I drove with my college roommate from Middlebury, Vermont to Dallas, Texas for spring break. We road tripped in a black 2-door Chevy Camaro and listened to Stevie Ray Vaughn and Robin Trower on the cassette player. Sleep was not part of the itinerary. My friend’s father was a wealthy business owner. I
Ohio State. Cornell. Tufts. SUNY New Paltz. RISD. U. of Michigan. Penn State. R.I.T. Madison. Maryland. SUNY Albany. Champaign. Tulane. Burlington, VT. Dartmouth. Temple. UIC. USC. New England Conservatory of Music. From Boston to L.A., upstate New York to New Orleans, our four kids considered enough colleges to keep us on the road for four
