When Parallels Intersect

He lost his balance. He fell and now he was rolling down the stairs. He bumped into something. A screaming lady. Shit…How much money would his insurance have to... Read more »

“Well, it’s better to be silent than to be a fool.” HL

“Well, it’s better to be silent than to be a fool.” HL An elderly 88, wheel-chair ridden old woman lives in a small assisted-living facility just north of Monroeville,... Read more »


It’s raining, but it’s inviting. It is wet, but barely. It is cloudy, but I can see outside my hotel room: the tram, the bikes, the cars, the pedestrians... Read more »

Morning Rush Hour

It’s not 8:30 am yet. We made it outside our apartment building. “Mama, I want that car.” Lola points out toward the stretched white limousine I’ve noticed being parked... Read more »

The Treadmill Traveler

Sundays I travel the world alone. On a broken treadmill. One Sunday twenty-five years ago I arrived in Caen, Normandie. Not the Cannes on the French Riviera, with which it... Read more »

Much Ado about Life

What do you want most to do with your kids when they grow older? Bring them to Central Park to stay on line for Shakespeare in the Park, so... Read more »

The Day I Met Elvis

The day I met Elvis, I also lost my virginity. I know. You don’t believe me, and you are right. I did not lose my ordinary virginity as in... Read more »

Fleet Week 1995

In 1995 I had my first encounter with Fleet Week. For almost a year I had been acting in plays off-off Broadway and taken acting classes in NYC, at... Read more »

The Box: A Comedy about Black

I am a failed actress. Among other failures. This one I am fond of because it taught me how to love good acting. Which I could not do. Read more »


New York is filled is manicure salons.  “Pretty Nails,” ”Golden Nails,” “Perfect Nails” are just some of the enticing names you can read on their windows. Coming closer you... Read more »

The Humanity of Mitt

Once upon a time, a TPV writer commented on how normal Mitt Romney looked.  Read more »

Mr. O’Toole Is Unwell. He’s Stiff

Sometime during the unsatisfying intercourse between 1990 and 1991 I went to London and I desperately cried in front of what I only thought to be a mere theater.... Read more »