The Yoga Blog seems to be taking a break but the new series, The Blessed Disappointment, is just starting up on the main page (just look at the posts on below the greeting on the homepage or choose anything by keyword from the left-hand side index.) You can access all the blog posts past through [...]
EPHEMORY is full length 90 minute show that can be produced with limited technical capability and an ensemble of as few as 6 actors: 1 male and 5 female. It’s the story of a young woman who immigrates to the US in the face of intolerable conditions and World War II about to explode. She [...]
We never looked directly at the people who sat down next to us. I thought all these girls must have that same core of loneliness I did, buried under the layers of wool and nylon. I could see it in the smudges of black liner gathered in on that little bulge beneath the outer corner of each eye on the ride home.
I may not be the most agile dancer, or the most exquisite vessel. It’s not a slick story of passions fueling young minds, bad-turned-good-against-all-odds, soldiering on in the wake of disapproval and ridicule, ironic, confessional or whatever the fashion bears and bares.
That is certainly not something I expected when I wondered what the future would bring on the boat coming to New York. And it’s not what I imagined when Carole asked me if I wanted to move to Texas.
I couldn’t afford the way memory ransacked my heart and left an airless cell pushing against my windpipe and the corners of my eyes.
So my memories turned to cold water, rushing in through the gash the iceberg left. An iceberg—there’s a devil. How wicked to hide, a towering city of thoughtless cold beneath the water’s surface–invisible and unknowable.
(Carole’s father, Rudy, musing in 1937, Germany) Is my country a part of my blood, my bones, is it the safe feeling under my feet? Or is it the place my family has lived for generations—even after it strips away our rights and treats us hatefully? What identifies me as German? Is it my culture, [...]
Carole was amazing. She was beautiful—curly jet black hair, a luscious little body and a fiery temper and wit. She was smart but she wasn’t all dried up like those college girls my buddies married. She was full of life and love—really sexy, not just dolled-up. She would talk to me about what was happening in her life. She needed someone to talk to and someone to appreciate her.
To think I must send my child away so she can live the life every father dreams of for his child–I am defeated. A Father should be able to give his family all the things they need. Not to be wealthy but to be a family together. Now, just when we should be talking about boys and school, we send her off to a strange place.
That’s what I learned: you always have to be ready and act fast. I guess I did that with everything that ever happened to me after that time. That’s how I married your father too.