In this odyssey of writing one story a week, I’ve revealed a lot of myself. We begin where fate throws us and in my family’s world, a good story came before any noun — person, place or thing. …

My midlife crisis act of rebellion is a red, pedal assist, roadster bicycle I call, Lacky. She has fat tires and a wide enough seat to support my bulbous ass, which widens and contracts depending on the season. “Pedal assist” is not the same as, “motorized.” But it is, “cheating.”…

I sat to write a sappy thing about how love blindsides and blisters, peels and burns. The sunrise does this and my dog did that. My parents are dead and the kids have all grown up. Yes, one more not very specific something about how exquisitely particular my pain is…

I enjoy noise. Doesn’t matter which. Music is best, but conversation can be better with the right person. As long as it’s not nothing, because silence can give off a brutally fickle screech. Much of my childhood was spent on the tenth floor along one of the busiest arteries of…

Directions are my kryptonite. Like I’ve been caught in a constant spin cycle and can’t pinpoint steady ground. I have no idea where to turn right and when to “bang a louie.” Northeast and southwest and due whatever points are all useless measures for me. …

Passover is performance art of the ancestral kind. A start to finish journey, an Exodus if you will, one everyone is invited to participate in. Even me. My family wasn’t religious, but a sucker for a good story. Year after year I waited to hear about the Jews’ epic journey…

While survivalists and military folks plan for this slow moving Apocalypse, I know what I’m taking with me — the old lady purse. I’m a recent convert to this particular preparation. Grandma had a white, leather, oxymoronically misnamed “pocketbook,” which matched her white, leather geriatric shoes. Occasionally she let me…

As a child, every tickle of a compliment was accompanied by a backhanded slap of inadequacy. I took that to mean that everything good about me was suspect. I was smart, but not industrious. I was funny, but didn’t know where to draw the line. I was “extremely sensitive,” which…

I understand recycling was a huge burden, but you showed up like a champ! I mean once you were done with that chip on your shoulder and we pushed through the learning curve. Dear Man I Married, Yes, love is our thing. We are both exceedingly nice people and we…