There was also one rusty button pin with the image of a football and the deteriorating. faded remnants of blue and grey silk ribbons.
A house divided cannot stand.
Ten minutes is a long time for a teenager to hug anyone.
The latest addition to my wardrobe is a finger glove.
This is the end. I can’t breathe. My chest is bursting.
“One night, I had a chat with my house.”
The Bobe, or Babushka, was the old crone in the faded sepia photograph in the dusty family album or, at best, in a tiny frame tucked behind a vase on the credenza. I was not going to be that person. Long before I discovered dozens of websites full of cool names for grandmothers, I knewContinue reading “They Call Me Dalma”
“Loving your fellow as yourself,” said the great Jewish sage, Rabbi Akiva
It appears to be the rationale for autocrats, whom our president aspires to emulate, as well as the explanation for the mess in the U.S. Congress.
“The death penalty has no place in the 21st century”