At my dad’s 85th birthday fete, he and the dozen other members of the poetry group gathered to recite. The titular head of the group handed out copies of “When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes.” My dad handed back the paper, not disdainfully but with the same grace
Whoever said, “life is hard and then you die” was a starry-eyed optimist in that those of us who have done the parenting thing for a bit would argue that the author left out a number of “are we there yets?” and a great many “how do you knows?” along
I have never called my doctor at home on a Sunday afternoon to complain of a medical issue. But I could. Robin and I have been friends since elementary school. Robin’s sibling and I had lunch just the other day. I have been a guest in Robin’s house any number
My first abortive foray into learning Spanish was in elementary school. “He’s falling! He’s falling! Ai! He fell!” (Se cae! Se cae! Ai! Se cayo!) is all I remember from many years of instruction. Never one to give up easily, I am picking up the trail something over half a
Mrs. K’s narrative is overwhelmingly sad. Her son is underperforming in school. Her son won’t listen to her. Her son is smoking pot. Her son doesn’t come home when he says he will. Her son would rather do anything than do what she tells him to do. Her son’s friends
It has been said that if you are a conservative under 30 you have no heart, but that if you are a liberal over 30 you have no head. I’m not sure I agree, but I have noticed a certain shift toward curmudgeondom as I march inevitably toward double digit
Training is a marathon, not a sprint. Education is a marathon, not a sprint. Painting is a marathon, not a sprint. Writing is a marathon not a sprint. Is anything a sprint? With the possible exception of actual sprinting, maybe not. Maybe every endeavor is a marathon. Even sprinting is
“Everyone gets a trophy” remains controversial as does “everyone gets an A.” As a middle school math teacher, I was all about “everyone gets an A.” if only my students had cooperated. If everyone learned what x was then everyone could get an A and I could get on with
As I may have mentioned—repeatedly? constantly? obsessively?—in any number of these 600-somehting columns, I love running. Or, to be more accurate, I love having run. Nothing feels better, to this creaky 65-year-old, than getting the worst of the day over with at oh dark hundred. And now that I have
“Why do we have to wait three days for the lab reports to come back? Do you know long it takes to find a parking space in the lot, how far we have to walk? The hospital food is terrible. Visiting hours are ridiculous.” The attending doctor wants to talk
Copyright © David Altshuler 1980 – 2024 | Miami, FL • Charlotte, NC | (305) 978-8917 | [email protected]
