Dan and Sally invited me in, and with their daughter, we played backgammon, and they made me a cup of tea and offered me some cookies.
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View Dale Borman Fink's profile
Dan and Sally invited me in, and with their daughter, we played backgammon, and they made me a cup of tea and offered me some cookies.
Read More
To play the “Gas Station Game,” you began by taking turns choosing different brands of gas, the way you might pick players on a pickup baseball or touch-football team. He would pick first—that was just the rule—and he would always pick Standard,
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Humans are so superficial! They love the blue jay because of its striking color. Don’t they ever notice what a bully and a pest he is?
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He would hold the instrument behind his back in his left hand, the bow behind his back in the right, and play. Once he had your attention, he would proceed to lie down on the living room carpet and continue, with no loss of rhythm or resonance
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Mom probably figured, “Dale has never in his life had his own package of gum. He only gets to chew a piece now and then when someone offers him a stick.
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Instead of glancing at their cellphones or GameBoys while walking around the streets, everyone would be furtively eyeing the trees, searching for evidence of that crevice or fissure that might hold a secret treasure.
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Within the next few years, the American Academy of Pediatrics would declare that no child should have her or his recess taken away because of their classroom conduct,..
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Jacob and I had our baseball mitts with us. During my recovery, after I moved into the Family Lodge with them, we played catch on the lawn, trying not to let the ball go into the flower beds.
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The book pretends to be about Philippe Petit. But its hidden subject is about how those who listen are supposed to act in the face of fear. What if there are winds swirling, and what if material objects—even the most massive ones imaginable--turn out to be anything but fixed and permanent?
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The people of "La Po’lvora," and especially the children, will always remain in my heart and mind as exemplars of the utmost courtesy and compassion in a time of dire need. They showed us something much deeper than just “good manners.”
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My own reconnecting with Laurel took place during the December holidays, spring breaks, or summers, the only times I was home from Harvard. I recall how special it was ...picking her up from the House family and bringing her home for the weekend.
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And he cooked with a smiling twinkle,/His paring knife a-twinkle,/ His graters and ladles a-twinkle, as he prepped an amazing potage.
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“Let your beard grow for 30 days.
And quietly remind yourself
That you are a son in mourning for your mother."
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As I prepared to clear out my office, the authorities began to inform me and the rest of my cohort that a dread disease was raging across the land, and that we were especially prone to catch it. Few of us believed it, but as you know, one plays along.
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“There’s a great big, beautiful tomorrow, shining on the end of every day. There’s a great big, beautiful tomorrow, and tomorrow’s just a dream away.”
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My tonsils are out
A nurse speaks: “Do you want ice cream, or ice chips?”
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She didn’t seem thrown off by how forward I was, or by the fact that I had not bothered to give her any advance notice I was even going to be in her region of the country! Or by the suddenness of this entreaty following a gap of 16 years.
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Why not put aside issues of public concern and instead use my column for a private purpose: to advertise my availability as a single man?
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He traced his commitment to wearing hats to his first jury trial.
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I marvel at the significance of having an elected official there to register his dissent against a sitting President from his own party.
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We painted the door green, and then in white we painted, “Dean of Repression.” We brought the door to the plaza in front of Holyoke Center, and attracted a crowd with our kazoos, our tambourines, and our RAT songs.
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I was missing those illustrated elevator rides. I was regretting that we wouldn’t be able to go to lunch together after the appointment in the third-floor cafeteria, with its salad bar, its fish baked on the premises, its hardy soups, its many dessert choices.
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I realize the only experience you’ve had of asking for help from a teacher in your entire school career came in your calculus class during senior year—and that was traumatic for you.
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Was it that kind of child-centered activity that made Anissa look back on that time, and on me, with such fondness?
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The equipment I am using...is not a traditional stationary bike: not even one of those souped-up Peloton bikes that are so highly promoted. it is one of my own road bikes, minus its rear wheel.
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Dan seemed to implicitly understand the concept of ethos, which I learned about two to three decades later. It comes from Aristotle, and it means establishing credibility, giving the audience a reason why they should listen to what you have to say.
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What was it like for my neighbors to have an FBI agent knock on their doors in December 1970 and ask questions about me.
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Floating somewhere unknown, however, was the fateful word gluttony, gearing up to topple me at some future moment when I might bite off more spelling splendor than I could chew.
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I found myself talking during naptime one day to Rosita, the Urban Court staffer whose job was to conduct outreach for the new program. I started asking her a lot of questions and soon found myself recruited to the training.
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Now it’s my turn. I have a son who comes home from college.
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I made mental notes and subtle comparisons and contrasts between the Beatles, the Dave Clark 5, the Kinks, the Moody Blues, the Searchers, the Zombies. I
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I had learned that as a general rule in France, one could eat breakfast much more economically in a bar—and more swiftly too--than in a bistro, restaurant, or brasserie.
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I don’t believe either of us campaigned on any issues, stands, or ideas. I do remember some of my slogans.
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I knew Grandma Geitel as a seamstress, a maker of chicken soup with knaidelach, someone who drank hot tea in a glass with sugar cubes, and someone who liked to gossip about her eight sisters and their lives and times.
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Is it really the ride boards that I miss most from the era that preceded our high-tech world? Is it the different channels that existed for making human connections? Is it the seemingly greater opportunities for adventure, even for risk-taking?
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The names that populated his stories brought his remembered world to life.Hugh E. Morgan walking along Broad Street in the 1920s...John Roth, forever known to his peers as “Skunky Roth,”... Jim Parva, an umpire...who alternated between a falsetto and bass voice in calling balls and strikes...
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I don’t know whether any grains of sand got into my toes, but a new idea entered my head. It was time to leave the marriage behind.
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As most language was eluding her, it was wonderful that she was able to profit from the memorization exercises of her childhood.
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I watered it as faithfully as I heated up boiling water for tea—in fact, I would fetch water for my teapot and fill the watering can for the cactus in a single trip
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A cup of tea, a game of backgammon, and memories of Mao
Prompted By Snowy Days
/ Stories
Dan and Sally invited me in, and with their daughter, we played backgammon, and they made me a cup of tea and offered me some cookies.
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On the way to Toledo
Prompted By Highways and Byways
/ Stories
To play the “Gas Station Game,” you began by taking turns choosing different brands of gas, the way you might pick players on a pickup baseball or touch-football team. He would pick first—that was just the rule—and he would always pick Standard,
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Greetings from Skampy and Bucko and the whole family
Prompted By Holiday Letters
/ Stories
Humans are so superficial! They love the blue jay because of its striking color. Don’t they ever notice what a bully and a pest he is?
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And now for an unexpected interruption of logical sequence
Prompted By Comic Relief
/ Stories
He would hold the instrument behind his back in his left hand, the bow behind his back in the right, and play. Once he had your attention, he would proceed to lie down on the living room carpet and continue, with no loss of rhythm or resonance
Read More
Just a pack of gum for Chanukah
Prompted By An Attitude of Gratitude
/ Stories
Mom probably figured, “Dale has never in his life had his own package of gum. He only gets to chew a piece now and then when someone offers him a stick.
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A more rustic form of “chain letter”
Prompted By Chain Letters
/ Stories
Instead of glancing at their cellphones or GameBoys while walking around the streets, everyone would be furtively eyeing the trees, searching for evidence of that crevice or fissure that might hold a secret treasure.
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The time I didn’t stand up
Prompted By Regrets
/ Stories
Within the next few years, the American Academy of Pediatrics would declare that no child should have her or his recess taken away because of their classroom conduct,..
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Love, baseball, and literature in a time of cancer
Prompted By Lemons to Lemonade
/ Stories
Jacob and I had our baseball mitts with us. During my recovery, after I moved into the Family Lodge with them, we played catch on the lawn, trying not to let the ball go into the flower beds.
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“Terrifying and beautiful,” in pen and ink and oil paint
Prompted By Children's Books
/ Stories
The book pretends to be about Philippe Petit. But its hidden subject is about how those who listen are supposed to act in the face of fear. What if there are winds swirling, and what if material objects—even the most massive ones imaginable--turn out to be anything but fixed and permanent?
Read More
“Como ameneciste?”
Prompted By Manners
/ Stories
The people of "La Po’lvora," and especially the children, will always remain in my heart and mind as exemplars of the utmost courtesy and compassion in a time of dire need. They showed us something much deeper than just “good manners.”
Read More
One child’s path from marginalization to equality
Prompted By Inequality
/ Stories
My own reconnecting with Laurel took place during the December holidays, spring breaks, or summers, the only times I was home from Harvard. I recall how special it was ...picking her up from the House family and bringing her home for the weekend.
Read More
The Slurping of the Soup
Prompted By Pet Peeves
/ Stories
And he cooked with a smiling twinkle,/His paring knife a-twinkle,/ His graters and ladles a-twinkle, as he prepped an amazing potage.
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A shave to remember
Prompted By Haircuts
/ Stories
“Let your beard grow for 30 days.
And quietly remind yourself
That you are a son in mourning for your mother."
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A Letter from the TRANSITIONAL RETIREMENT ZONE
Prompted By One Year of the Pandemic
/ Stories
As I prepared to clear out my office, the authorities began to inform me and the rest of my cohort that a dread disease was raging across the land, and that we were especially prone to catch it. Few of us believed it, but as you know, one plays along.
Read More
A great big, beautiful tomorrow—and a cherished yesterday
Prompted By Advertising Jingles and Slogans
/ Stories
“There’s a great big, beautiful tomorrow, shining on the end of every day. There’s a great big, beautiful tomorrow, and tomorrow’s just a dream away.”
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Tonsillectomy, Age Three
Prompted By First Memory
/ Stories
My tonsils are out
A nurse speaks: “Do you want ice cream, or ice chips?”
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A picnic with Velma
Prompted By Reconnecting
/ Stories
She didn’t seem thrown off by how forward I was, or by the fact that I had not bothered to give her any advance notice I was even going to be in her region of the country! Or by the suddenness of this entreaty following a gap of 16 years.
Read More
The Valentine’s Day When I Turned My Opinion Column into a Personal Ad
Prompted By Valentine's Day
/ Stories
Why not put aside issues of public concern and instead use my column for a private purpose: to advertise my availability as a single man?
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“Get yourself a hat so you look like somebody!”
Prompted By Hats
/ Stories
He traced his commitment to wearing hats to his first jury trial.
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Counter-Inaugural 1973
Prompted By Inaugurations
/ Stories
I marvel at the significance of having an elected official there to register his dissent against a sitting President from his own party.
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Who wrote the Book of War?
Prompted By Good Trouble
/ Stories
We painted the door green, and then in white we painted, “Dean of Repression.” We brought the door to the plaza in front of Holyoke Center, and attracted a crowd with our kazoos, our tambourines, and our RAT songs.
Read More
An art exhibition during a pandemic
Prompted By Art and Art Museums
/ Stories
I was missing those illustrated elevator rides. I was regretting that we wouldn’t be able to go to lunch together after the appointment in the third-floor cafeteria, with its salad bar, its fish baked on the premises, its hardy soups, its many dessert choices.
Read More
Seeking help is a good thing! Self-reliance? Not so much.
Prompted By Letter to My Younger Self
/ Stories
I realize the only experience you’ve had of asking for help from a teacher in your entire school career came in your calculus class during senior year—and that was traumatic for you.
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The most wonderful “thank-you”–without those words ever being spoken
Prompted By Thank You
/ Stories
Was it that kind of child-centered activity that made Anissa look back on that time, and on me, with such fondness?
Read More
A different form of binge-watching
Prompted By What Are You Bingeing?
/ Stories
The equipment I am using...is not a traditional stationary bike: not even one of those souped-up Peloton bikes that are so highly promoted. it is one of my own road bikes, minus its rear wheel.
Read More
Riding in the dark: a high school memory
Prompted By Hello Darkness
/ Stories
Dan seemed to implicitly understand the concept of ethos, which I learned about two to three decades later. It comes from Aristotle, and it means establishing credibility, giving the audience a reason why they should listen to what you have to say.
Read More
“Full field investigation”
Prompted By Interviews
/ Stories
What was it like for my neighbors to have an FBI agent knock on their doors in December 1970 and ask questions about me.
Read More
Gluttonous for glory–spelling glory, that is!
Prompted By Spelling
/ Stories
Floating somewhere unknown, however, was the fateful word gluttony, gearing up to topple me at some future moment when I might bite off more spelling splendor than I could chew.
Read More
We have no problems, mon. Only situations.
Prompted By Volunteering
/ Stories
I found myself talking during naptime one day to Rosita, the Urban Court staffer whose job was to conduct outreach for the new program. I started asking her a lot of questions and soon found myself recruited to the training.
Read More
Home from college
Prompted By Pandemic Holidays
/ Stories
Now it’s my turn. I have a son who comes home from college.
Read More
Richard to the Rescue
Prompted By Fads and Trends
/ Stories
I made mental notes and subtle comparisons and contrasts between the Beatles, the Dave Clark 5, the Kinks, the Moody Blues, the Searchers, the Zombies. I
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Not just the very first customers–we were the only customers!
Prompted By Random Acts of Kindness
/ Stories
I had learned that as a general rule in France, one could eat breakfast much more economically in a bar—and more swiftly too--than in a bistro, restaurant, or brasserie.
Read More
There’s a lot of that going around lately
Prompted By Ghosts of Elections Past
/ Stories
I don’t believe either of us campaigned on any issues, stands, or ideas. I do remember some of my slogans.
Read More
Joey’s button
Prompted By Buttons, Pins, and Badges
/ Stories
I knew Grandma Geitel as a seamstress, a maker of chicken soup with knaidelach, someone who drank hot tea in a glass with sugar cubes, and someone who liked to gossip about her eight sisters and their lives and times.
Read More
An Unforgettable Ride
Prompted By Life Before Computers
/ Stories
Is it really the ride boards that I miss most from the era that preceded our high-tech world? Is it the different channels that existed for making human connections? Is it the seemingly greater opportunities for adventure, even for risk-taking?
Read More
The Phone Call
Prompted By Final Farewell
/ Stories
The names that populated his stories brought his remembered world to life.Hugh E. Morgan walking along Broad Street in the 1920s...John Roth, forever known to his peers as “Skunky Roth,”... Jim Parva, an umpire...who alternated between a falsetto and bass voice in calling balls and strikes...
Read More
A Walk on the Beach
Prompted By Rites of Passage
/ Stories
I don’t know whether any grains of sand got into my toes, but a new idea entered my head. It was time to leave the marriage behind.
Read More
Reciting by heart–and from the heart
Prompted By Brain Games
/ Stories
As most language was eluding her, it was wonderful that she was able to profit from the memorization exercises of her childhood.
Read More
Roselle’s Cactus
Prompted By The Garden
/ Stories
I watered it as faithfully as I heated up boiling water for tea—in fact, I would fetch water for my teapot and fill the watering can for the cactus in a single trip
Read More