Waiting at the bus stop at Fifth Ave and 86th St the other day a young woman, probably in her 20s, asked me where she could get the limited. I told her it stopped about two blocks south, and she thanked me and started walking down Fifth. Then, checking my watch I realized I might be late for my own appointment. Wait for me, I called out, I’ll take the limited too. As we walked along together, predictably, the limited bus went rumbling past. You’re younger, I said, run...
Walking thru my building lobby on my way out to the dry cleaners, I realized my Dominican doorman was staring at the elaborately embroidered caftan I was carrying on my arm, bought by my son on a trip to Kazakstan. “This week is the Jewish holiday of Purim when we celebrate by getting drunk and dressing up in costumes.”, I explained with a smile. “Oh yes, we know,” said our Irish concierge from behind the lobby desk, “because every year just about this time Mrs...
My uncle Milton wasn’t exactly a hardened criminal, but the truth is he was once caught breaking and entering. Most of the time Milt was a mild-mannered, slightly absent-minded professor of chemistry at Smith College and lived with my aunt Roseanne in Northampton, Massachusetts in a wonderful Revolutionary-era house at the end of Popular Hill Road. Once there had been a sign on their road that read DEAD END, but my aunt Rosie was a published author and the chair of the Northampton...
I was saddened to learn about restaurateur Barbara Smith’s battle with Alzheimer’s, and now she and her husband have chronicled their life with this debilitating disease in their book Before I Forget. I have followed Barbara career since she was a beautiful young model and in 1976 the second African American to grace the cover of Mademoiselle magazine. Also a talented Southern cook, Barbara went on to open the highly successful B. Smith’s restaurant in New York’s...
I don’t think of myself as an especially spiritual person, but some months ago I had a religious experience. You may remember I blogged about two talented thespians in my family — my great-aunt Miriam and my uncle Sol. (See The Roar of the Greasepaint – for Aunt Miriam and Uncle Sol) Miriam, a generation older, died many years ago, but Sol died this past June, just short of his 96th birthday. Uncle Sol was a surrogate father of sorts to my husband, and grandfather...
Welcome to my blog World Thru Brown Eyes! Enjoy the read and please leave a comment and tell me how this old world looks thru YOUR eyes!
