Good

What I moved to Brooklyn was: three of my paintings, my great-grandmother’s dresser, three busts (Schumann, Chopin, Shakespeare), my yellow foo dogs (look it up), and the lamp I bought the day that Grandma died in an effort to make myself feel better, the lamp which I immediately broke on the threshold of my apartment […]

Flying

My grandfather’s tombstone has a plane etched into the granite. Just a little east of his grave, I visited into the birthplace of Amelia Earhart. I have no idea if my grandfather had any special feelings about Amelia Earhart, who, after all, lived only a brief time in Atchison, Kansas. She was a pilot, like […]