One of my running buddies tells a story about his immigrant grandfather. Arriving from Europe after the First World War, Mike worked long shifts as a dishwasher, was promoted to cook, eventually opening his own diner. A generation later, my buddy’s grandfather owned four restaurants, employing dozens of people. He
Alan Strang, the protagonist of Peter Shaffer’s Equus, commits an act so heinous as to impress theater goers long after the final homeward bound subway ride. Critics view the text as “Shaffer’s exploration of the way modern society has destroyed our ability to feel passion.” They write of Alan’s psychiatrist
Sorry to be late. My granddaughter has a fever. Nothing serious. Maybe 99 point something. Also, this isn’t my computer; I’m using my wife’s computer. So her name is showing up in the Zoom. Not my name. Her name is Peggy. But my name is Bob. So my computer screen
The square root of negative one is a nasty bit of business. The square root of 25 gets invited to parties, has followers on Instagram. Even the square root of 2 is asked to dance occasionally. But the square root of negative one? The square root of negative one is
Langley and I met a young woman and her canine companion in the neighborhood. Our dogs clearly wanted to play but unlike Langley who is trained to come when called, her dog was not yet competent to return after a romp. So, the four of us walked along together, Langley
Daren wasn’t a bad kid. Admittedly, he had slept in and missed a few classes, played some tennis, gotten mostly Cs in his first semester. He had pledged a fraternity, drank a few beers. His parents were supportive, to a point. But a D in “Introduction to Sociology” second semester allowed
Roberta describes her pandemic life monitoring her five, seven, and nine-year-old children: I feel like I am talking to myself. Sometimes I have to ask my partner if I am actually speaking words out loud. The children do not acknowledge, let alone respond, never mind acquiesce to my escalating instructions.
Pre-scientific societies were said to make causal inferences from correlations. Which led to any number of major oopsies: I swung a dead cat around my head three times at midnight. Look at this bountiful harvest. A classic blunder: Post hoc ergo propter hoc–after this, therefore because of this. Timeless examples
One of my running buddies is approaching sixty. On a recent plod, he reflected on whether or not he was happy—and whether or not he had any right not to be. “I’m a wealthy white guy of privilege,” he began. “My children are grown, successful, off the payroll. The kids
“Mother, Please! I’d rather do it myself!” suggests an as yet unmedicated home maker in an iconic 60s commercial. Mom’s transgression? Enquiring if perhaps the stew needs some salt. But, with the benefit of a half century of hindsight, this author wonders if mom’s suggestion was not the first of
Copyright © David Altshuler 1980 – 2024 | Miami, FL • Charlotte, NC | (305) 978-8917 | [email protected]
