In September 1968 I was a new minted school librarian working in a New York City public high school when my union,  the United Federation of Teachers (UFT),  then led by Al Shanker,  voted to strike.  I joined the picket line. The strike followed a confrontation between a newly established community-controlled school board in the… Read More

When I retired after my long career as a high school librarian,  my friend Karlan called me.  Karlan was recently retired herself after working for New York Public Library as a young adult librarian. “I’m heading a new organization called Literacy for Incarcerated Teens / LIT “,  she said, “it’s a good cause,  won’t you join… Read More

I’ve written about my years as head librarian at Jane Addams,  a New York City public vocational high school.  (See Magazines for the Principal,  The Parking Lot Seniority List,  Shelf List, The Diary of a Young Girl,  Early Session and Educator of the Year:  Remembering Milton) Here’s another story. Because of our large student body for many years our… Read More

When our son was born in New York Hospital I was asked if we’d like to attend The First Year of Life,  a series of quarterly lectures by Lee Salk,  the renown child psychologist.  Of course we signed up and over the following year we attended four wonderful lectures held in a hospital meeting room.… Read More

In the early 1970s my husband Danny accepted a stint in his company’s London office.   (See Laundry Day in London,   Kinky Boots,  Valentine’s Day in Foggytown,  Intro to Cookery,  and Munro) He’d be working for a guy named Derek whom I hadn’t met,  but Danny assured me I’d soon come to adore Derek and his wife… Read More

Years ago when our son was busy studying his bar mitzvah Torah portion,  we were busy planning the celebratory luncheon that would follow the service.  (See Ghostwriting in the Family) We picked the restaurant,  selected the menu,  made up the guest list,  and sent out the invitations. We invited family of course,  our friends and our… Read More

A few years ago my husband’s college roommate Ken invited us to join him on a trip to Normandy.   I had a bit of a hassle replacing my missing travel documents,  but eventually all was resolved.  (See The Purloined Passport) We flew first to Paris where we visited with family and friends, then rented a… Read More

Both my husband and I bear the scars of early burns.  Mine is under my chin and dates from a very minor,  almost funny childhood accident;  his scar is on his arm, dates from the hour of his birth, and tells a more somber tale. As I child I loved summer camp and went on… Read More