Sixty years ago history was compressed into a single November weekend. It was the weekend that never seemed to end, that began with a TV bulletin and ended with a burning flame flickering on television screens across the nation. Like a relentless Greek tragedy, the...
I was 14 years old in July 1969 when I saw a startling full-page ad in the Sunday New York Times pleading for an end to gun violence. It asked the reader to hold onto the page for a year and hope and pray the violence would end. I had saved it for over half a century,...
Yet one more reason to object to Donald Trump. He is giving pack rats like me a bad name. The former hoarder-in-chief’s attachment to paper is a very familiar one to me. Trump can’t seem to part with his, and neither can I. I, too, have left a long paper trail. The...
At 67, I am now almost the same age as MAD magazine, which is celebrating 70 years this month. I have been collecting them for nearly as long. Battered cardboard boxes filled with decades of well-read, dog-eared MAD magazines, have followed me in the trajectory of my...
Step on women’s rights and they start marching. If you stomp on justice they will take to the streets. They march against misogynist presidents and protest economic inequality. And over and over again they have marched countless miles for reproductive rights, and it...
