(Originally published in Rambam, Danish-Jewish history journal, 15/2006)
I’ve lived in Denmark for 15 years now, and I still feel like an outsider. But, hey, that’s not so strange. After all I am Jewish; we Jews are perennial outsiders. We’re contributors to the mainstream, yet never quite considered an integral part of the mainstream. We’re familiar with all forms of persecution, and we’re always on the move. Oh yes, Jews get around, and I’m no different.
I have to tell you about something with Mom that freaked me out. Remember
I went with her to the North mall last weekend. Well anyway, she met her old
friend, Esther Rose. And Esther asked how Dan was. Well Mom just smiled and said, “He’s
So, I kept glancing over at her on the way home, trying to see if she
looked okay or what was going on. I couldn’t see anything. She looked like Mom.
So finally, when we got to a red light, I just asked her.
“Are you okay, Mom?”
“Yes. Why what’s the matter, don’t I look okay?” she said, and she
pulled down the mirror and started checking her makeup.
“It’s just that, your friend, Esther, asked you how Dan was, and you
said he was fine.”
“Oh,” she said laughing. “That’s right,” and for a minute I started
laughing too. But then then the light changed, and as I started driving again,
she said, “Yes, yes, he is.”
“Mom…” I said trying to control the alarm in my voice and figure out a
tactful way to put it. But finally, I couldn’t think of any subtleties, so I just came out with it.
“You know Dan is dead right?”
“Of course, I know,” she said. “But he’s fine. Dan is just fine.”
Postmodern Proof Let's not pretend we're going Anywhere. Every place looks the same. Empty streets lead us To empty boxes Where we park cars Next to neon-colored numbers That remind us where we are: On shiny floors amid electronic goods Gone is the touch and smell of wood.
Do you even realize how much thought I put into picking out just the right length candles to bring out the beauty of the bone china, or the perfect heavy red Bordeaux to complement the lightness and delicacy of my beautiful Gruyère and Parmesan Cheese soufflé?
Birth and early childhood (the fish years) In April 1564, William is born at Stratford on Avon to Sheldon and Gladys Shakespeare. It is a long and grueling birth lasting three weeks, and he is born weighing 58 kilos and sporting a full beard. The birth of a bearded infant is a rare phenomenon; there are only three known cases in medical history (the other two being Fidel Castro and Rosie ODonnell). It is perceived as supernatural, and today some scholars believe that his mother was burned at the stake as a witch as a direct result. Others believe it was because she used to fly around town on her broomstick...
(Originally published in issue 7 of the Heavy Glow print anthology in 2006)
Momma was bleeding from her
head around the left eyebrow. But as usual, Derek made her sit in her chair at
the kitchen table. He'd go out and come back with the key that he kept in the
bottom drawer of the desk in his study. Same place he kept his whiskey. I knew
cause I snuck in and drank some once. Just enough to see what it was like, but
not enough that he'd notice. Then, he'd come back with the key and open the
glass case on the wall by the window and stand over her, behind her, with his
Colt .45. And he'd talk about what she'd done wrong. Explain to her like a