For a long time, whenever I would drop my older daughter off at a birthday party, she would cling to my leg and beg me to stay, promise me half her slice of cake if I promised not to leave.
Then one day I brought her to a classmate’s party and before I knew it she was off running around with her friends without even waving goodbye – and I just stood there, with a dull, nameless pang rooting around in my chest.
October 11, 2017 | Ben Berman
My daughters have been obsessed lately with the soundtrack to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.
And though I’ve grown tired of it looping endlessly on repeat, the English teacher in me loves to sing along whenever the narrator croons to young Joseph: If you can interpret you will go far. If you can interpret you’ll be a star.
September 13, 2017 | Ben Berman
By Katrin Schumann
My friend Stephen had an incredibly interesting life. When he died at age 50, he left behind a small family and lots of burned bridges. One thing he didn’t leave behind—something so important that its absence is a tragedy—was any kind of cogent record of his life or work.
There are pictures and half remembered stories. There are paintings and sculptures, covered in Saharan dust, the details of their provenance lost forever
September 6, 2017 | Katrin Schumann
My four-year-old has been refusing to eat dinner lately.
Sometimes she tells me that she’s too tired to eat, sometimes she protests the tiny specks of color that somehow made it into her meal. Once she tried explaining that some people are eating people and some people are not.
At first, I thought I’d let her suffer the natural consequences of her actions. But once I realized that the natural consequences of her actions involved her waking me up at 2 a.m. to ask for a bowl of cheerios, I figured I needed a new strategy.