Archive | Age Matters

Mz. Rosman If You’re Nasty

dowagerI came back from Thanksgiving in Massholia with a new fur hat and vintage coat, and have been called “ma’am” three million times in 24 hours. I’d be cross except dowager chic is my all-time favorite look and I always knew I’d be a tough old broad someday. So here I am. Armed for whatever messed-up mishegos is next for our beleaguered country, at the midpoint of my life if I’m lucky, and ma’am like a motherfucker.

Mikey and Paulie

mikey and paulieThis is Mike and Paul. I met them a decade ago, when Oslo, the first really great coffee shop in Williamsburg, opened down on Roebling Avenue. By 9 am that joint was jumping—still is, even with the many artisanal-almond-milk-interplanetary-bean-drips that have opened in the years since. But at 7 am, we were often the only ones hunkered down over our coffees. Paul drank a latte, Mike drank a regular brew with one of those sugary cakes masquerading as a muffin, and I drank an Americano. On the days I’d woken up enough to apply lipstick before leaving the house, the men made a big show of buying my drink for me. “I love a blonde with red lips,” Paul would say with his irresistible grin. I’d bat my lashes. Continue Reading →

How We Survive

indian polish scottish jewI am the descendent of Pogrom and Holocaust survivors, Jews who came to this country as refugees from a Europe torn up by xenophobic dictators. When people on my father’s side arrived at Ellis Island, the United States was their safe space, their beacon, their golden land of opportunities. Until this week, I’d never shed their optimism no matter how much others legitimately complained about America. I knew that many people of color and indigent people never had that glow about this nation. I knew their ancestors did not arrive here with the same triumph. They were dragged here in chains, or already had been here, only to be robbed, tortured, serially murdered. My mother’s people said Sioux Nation members in our line had experienced such horrors. I knew all too well that this country was as founded on blood as it was on hope. Continue Reading →

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy