That men of a certain age require occasional unsavory medical procedures is old news. Old news for men of a certain age certainly. “Let me tell you about my operation” is anathema for good reason. Operations are similar to digestive systems. Everybody has one; nobody wants to hear about yours.
“You have no idea how I’ve suffered. My son was the light of my eyes. He won every award in elementary school. I could show him off anywhere. He was such a pleasure. I was proud of his accomplishments. But now, he is lost to me. Lost. He is disrespectful,
The second book of the Bible can be summarized by the word “go!” If there had been enough time to use a second word, the recap could be extended to “go now!” Folks throughput history have done well to attend to this succinct message: Cuba, 1959; Munich, 1932; Cambodia, 1970
Many electrons have been spilled inveigling whether or not the dangers to our beloved children are unprecedented in this generation. Surely, some stumbling forward progress has been achieved. Half a century ago dial-up modems were the rage and hip replacements were science fiction. “When I was a kid” medicine, communication,
That there are drugs of all kinds at schools of every kind is not news. By the measure of “opportunities to do drugs” there are no more “good schools” in 2017. None. Two generations ago, it may have been possible to avoid the drug culture in some communities by sending
My buddy, Sam, a World War II vet and a self educated lawyer, may not have been the greatest example of what has been called the greatest generation but he would do. When his wife developed health concerns, he did not waver in his devotion. Widowed with three young children,
Consider Mr. Atrobus versus a mastodon. Atrobus is hungry. But the mastodon does not fancy appearing on anyone’s luncheon menu. One on one, the smart money is on Proboscidea. Because soaking wet, Atrobus tips the scales at something south of 200 pounds, about 10,000 pounds short of your recalcitrant mastodon.
Let’s ignore fun now and fun later. Catching that big bass with your grandchild at that sparkling, secluded spot on that perfect fall day was exquisite at the time and only gets better with each re-telling. “Say the part again about how the fishing pole almost broke, Papa. Tell about
The woman at the 72nd Street pay phone had strands of dirty tinfoil in her matted hair and an enormous collection of broken pieces of plastic in her rusty shopping cart. She turned to show me the enormous ring of keys in her hand, insisting that one of them would
Last night I dreamt I was trapped at a dinner party where a woman whom I didn’t know, a pro po of nothing, addressed me as follows: “It is beyond my understanding why the fascist authorities insist on restricting my civil rights and try to forbid me from driving 70
Copyright © David Altshuler 1980 – 2024 | Miami, FL • Charlotte, NC | (305) 978-8917 | [email protected]
