Whose Privilege is it Anyway?

“How’s Kat?” “They’re fine.” “Who’s they? I asked about Kat.” “They’re fine.” This conversation with my eldest daughter was a millennial Abbott-and-Costello-routine gone bad. I was asking about “who” and instead was hearing about the whole infield: Who, What, I Don’t Know and I Don’t Care. I really was starting not to care myself. “Why …

Are you in or out?

  “Here’s the way I will structure this interview. I will speak and ask you questions for 40 minutes. At the end of the 40 minutes, you will have 15 minutes to ask me questions. We then will end 5 minutes early so I can prepare for my next call. Do you agree? Okay, let’s …

On the Road… Again. Tales of an Uber-Dad

When I first got my driver’s license many moons ago, I was ecstatic at the prospect of the open road. I could drive anywhere and everywhere I wanted (or as far as my gas money or my dad’s gas card would take me). Errands for my mom? No problem. Pick up five friends and stuff …

To Shawshank, with Love.

“You look exhausted. Everything okay?” “All good. Was up late last night. Didn’t get enough sleep.” “Lucky you. We were both out cold by 10.” “Not that. The game ended and I was about to turn off the TV when… you know… I flipped around, and it was on. Once it’s on, I have to …

Pink Ribbons and Blue Balls

I stood at the finish line, waiting for my daughter to come flying through, covered in sweat and a dusty rainbow of colors. She was running a 5K in support of pediatric cancer, joyously pelted by volunteers with washable pastel paint. As I watched the various runners stumble home with victorious chants cascading through the …

Help! Wanted for the Want Ads

Back in the days when print media ruled the suburban sprawl of America, The New York Times reigned supreme. From the crack of dawn, from one driveway to the next, you could find the newspaper waiting patiently for tasseled or slippered feet to arrive. Scooping the paper into their hands, subscribers would devour it from …

Oh, Deer. Bambi and the things that get bumpers in the night

Last night, a deer hit me. Or should I say, I got in a deer’s way. As I left my regular Tuesday-night tennis game (where four aging men still believe Wimbledon is a possibility), I descended leisurely down the dark country road towards home. As I listened to the mellow sounds of Sirius XM, trying …

Life after 50: One Man’s Perspective on Aging… and George Clooney

While conducting one of my random Google searches, I realized George Clooney, that paradigm of all things good and good looking, is one month older than I. Yet, his fiancé is 15 years younger than my wife. Is this the new math for men over 50? I mean, George and I were both born when …

Fifty Shades of Gray Paint

  Scene: A dark, nightlight-lit bedroom deep in the heart of suburbia. One slightly graying, nearing 50 man. One used-to-be gray, now professionally dyed woman. One hypo-allergenic dog perched on the edge of the bed. As the omnipresent central air conditioning cools off this private, semi-secluded boudoir, things begin to heat up. There is tension …