Passing on a Survivor’s Legacy, One Hug at a Time “If anyone would like a hug, please come up to the front of the room,” I announced to the class of 30-plus eighth graders at I.S. 254 in the Riverdale section of the Bronx. Silence fell upon the previously antsy and...
The Memories We Keep I remember sitting on my parents’ bed one evening after dinner when I was seven years old, squeezing into a spot next to my older brother, Marc. In the coziness and safety of their room—walls clad in purple fabric and a white shag rug...
In Her Closet Last week, I prepared to enter my mother’s walk-in closet. Over the past several months, I’ve been going to her house — my childhood home — a couple of times a week, sifting through piles of papers, plastic containers and desk drawers. Discarding trivial...
A Promise Between Friends My childhood friend Ellen and I were 13 years old when we first concocted our let’s-celebrate-our-friendship-every-ten-years scheme. At the time, it seemed as if a decade amounted to some magical, far-off date when we’d reunite after many...
Women and Alcohol: Why We Started ‘The Drinking Diaries’ “Do you really need to check your blackberry again?” I ask repeatedly. “Any new sales you need to vet on Gilt today?” Leah retorts. On any given day, sitting and working at my round kitchen table —...
