My Birthday Week–Fun, Frivolity, Madness & Sir Paul

My Birthday Week–Fun, Frivolity, Madness & Sir Paul

From an ant infestation on Sunday to Sir Paul McCartney eight days later, my birthday week ended with a bang and a whole lotta cashola spent.

Why a “Birthday Week” and not just a day, you might ask?

Because one day won’t do, no sir! You gotta have an entire week to celebrate with mirth and merriment! Here’s how the eight days went down:

Sunday: Attack of the ants. Continue reading

The Pianist of Willesden Lane Uses Music to Cope with Tragedy of War

The Pianist of Willesden Lane Uses Music to Cope with Tragedy of War

This weekend, I went to the Lyceum and saw “The Pianist of Willesden Lane.” It’s the kind of play that slowly draws you in, exquisitely conjuring up the elegance and artistry of Vienna on the brink of World War II, as well as the heartache and loss of war. I soon found myself riveted by world-renown pianist Mona Golabek and her one-woman show. Continue reading

One in Three Women is One Too Many

One in Three Women is One Too Many

Amidst all the uproar in the news about ex-Baltimore Raven Ray Rice and what he did to his then-fiancé in an elevator, I heard a startling fact: According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, one in three women will experience domestic violence in their lifetime.

That’s one in three, not one in a thousand or even a hundred. It’s one in three.
Consider me one of them. And while I’m confessing to being someone’s punching bag, I might as well admit that I was also the victim of date rape… (Read more…) Continue reading

Disney’s Nine Old Men & Me

Disney’s Nine Old Men & Me

Walt Disney knew how to capture our imaginations. We fell in love with his world, but how many of us knew about the Nine Old Men that helped bring that world to life through their artistic talent?

They were dubbed Nine Old Men by Disney himself, because that’s what FDR called the nine Supreme Court Justices. Continue reading

Camp Life: End of the Road

Camp Life: End of the Road

I was laying in a bed, a real bed, not the standard-issued cot we had in our cabins. I had just awoken, a miserable, snotty wretch. What I’d give to be anywhere else. Back at school even. Away from all this crap. Yet here I was, still at Camp Prison-Shit. How long had I been out, I did not know.

“What am I doing here?” Why was I still at camp, I wanted to know. Continue reading