Recent Updates
Outing Norman Rockwell’s “Freedom from Want” and/or How To Host an Enjoyable Thanksgiving Feast
I look at this iconic painting of the iconic white American family sitting at table celebrating that most American of holidays, Thanksgiving—Ma at the head, eye drawn to the huge roasted turkey on an oval platter that she’s bending to place on the table; Pa, black-suited, standing behind, not helping her—and think to myself: only a man could have painted this image, a man who never once hosted a large gathering; or roasted, carved and served a whole turkey.
How do I know? I have roasted, carved and served many whole turkeys over the years—the largest, a twenty-one pounder— and let me tell you: it’s not possible to quickly and neatly slice that baby at table surrounded by impatient, salivating loved ones.
Death of a Car
It was the early 90’s. Crack cocaine, cheap and plentiful, was burning like an unchecked forest fire through the City. Emaciated addicts, suicidal and psychotic in the crash following the high, swamped my emergency room. Car break-ins by users desperate for quick cash were all too frequent. But parking the car in a garage was ruinously expensive. Riding the subway into Manhattan added an hour to the round-trip. I kept driving in and parking on the street, fingers crossed, hoping for the best.
Of course my car was broken into.
Congress--House AND Senate-- Votes Juneteenth a Federal Holiday
Juneteenth—celebrated on June 19th by most Black Americans—commemorates the legal end of slavery in Texas on June 19th, 1865, more than two years after President Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation of January 1, 1863.
In honor of Juneteenth, I’m reposting the following essay.
How I Challenged a Privileged White Male Friend’s Racism The hardest part? First, I had to listen to him.
Self-Soothe to Soldier On
…Briefly, after Biden’s inauguration, my fear eased. But, once again I am losing sleep. And what good is that?
When I Published an Essay On Talking Productively About Racism with a Friend, the Conversation Continued in the Comments
I recently had a dialogue with my friend Hector about racism which was so productive that I published an essay about it on Medium. He went from denying he was racist to being willing to accept that since we are all products of our culture and our culture is racist, therefore, both of us, being White, are unavoidably racist. (Cookies were also involved.)
The piece went modestly viral. I received a variety of thought provoking comments. They came from three types of readers: Black readers, reasonable White readers and White male trolls.
How I Challenged a Privileged White Male Friend's Racism
The Hardest Part? First, I Had to Listen to Him.
Given my introverted nature and aversion to crowds and conflict, I’ve been stumped for a way to help dismantle White supremacy. While waiting for a brilliant idea to burn through the atmosphere and crash into my head, I’ve been…
On Listening as Essential
Since Trump and the GOP swept the 2016 election, it’s been one unthinkable legal change after the other in the wrong direction, practically daily. With each thing, I’ve thought: It can’t get any worse. And then it does.
May is National Mental Health Awareness Month
It’s National Mental Health Awareness month? How ironic. Two months in to this pandemic, I’m well aware—no, I’m hyper aware that most people’s mental health, including my own, is under siege. It’s impossible to ignore. There is just too much uncertainty. And too many feelings to deal with, from bowel-churning terror to metal-melting rage and everything in between. But now that I think about it, that’s proof I’m well and healthy, and so are you, if you’re swinging the same. How could it be any other way? These are simply psycho-logical responses to an increasingly psycho reality.
Ever wondered what shrinks do all day? And after hours?
You’d be surprised. Or, maybe not. It’s amazing how much trouble I get into with patients (and elsewhere), and even more amazing how often I manage to be helpful. It’s a knack. Kidding. Problem solving while panicking in free fall is a skill set, one we need now more than ever.
To Siri Or Not To Siri, That Is The Question
New Yorker 2011I find Techland difficult country. The terrain is steeply mountainous, the language alien and the natives impatient. Though when they birth a new gadget or app, the flash of colorful lights and all the party noise are so enticing! But frustration, wasted money and time have taught me to wait. I figure, let the enthusiasts grow that baby up some before I venture over there to meet it.
Lately, the buzz is about Siri, the “intelligent assistant” on the newest iPhone iteration, the 4S. Just as Captain Jean Luc Picard of Star Trek, The Next Generation commands his First Officer (“Number One” Riker) to make it so, so may we command Siri to make it so. Maybe so. Time will tell.
Meanwhile, I have plenty to fill the void: lounging on the couch, peeling grapes, keeping up with my chosen profession (shrinkdom). And my unchosen profession (running a business, a.k.a. the practice). And the second oldest profession (motherhood). As for staying married, a woman’s work is never done.
Speaking of which, darling Hubby is tech-impaired. Texting eludes him, checking e-mail’s off the radar, and does he ever have his phone on him when I need him? I despair, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t see the value. Or he sees it, but the learning curve’s not worth it.
So we’re visiting with a couple of a certain age, only older, and animatedly chatting away when the husband starts, and raising one hand— Excuse me a moment please— pulls out his iPhone with the other. He lifts it to lip level and tells it: “Remind me to pick up my medicine from Walgreen’s tomorrow.”
The phone replies, in a pleasantly modulated female voice, “So you’d like me to remind you to pick up your medicine tomorrow?”
“Yes, please,” he tells it. Returning to us, he says, “Excuse me for interrupting. My memory isn’t what it used to be.”
“Wow!” I ejaculate. “What was that?”
The wife says, “Meet Siri.”
“Amazing!”
Hubby says, “Come on. That’s not realistic. It should whine, Why me? Or, Ask your wife!"
We all laugh.
“Or, Not again! Or how about, I’m busy tomorrow. Try next week, maybe Monday or Tuesday.”
We crack up.
“Does it work as a GPS?” I ask. “Hearing directions would be so much safer than reading them, especially driving alone.”
“Yes, it does that,” the husband says. “It’s great!"
"Yeah," the wife says, "I love it when it tells me, Take this exit, just as I drive by it."