Greetings from Seat 6A and the Milwaukee-to-Toronto leg of my Grand European Birthday Adventure. I consider it a good omen that my seat number is the same as mine & Debby’s favorite road in Cape Cod. It winds (to paraphrase a famous song about another road) from West Barnstable to Provincetown. On the West Barnstable … Continue reading On my way, featuring the Amy Waldman who isn’t me & not a single photo
Category: personal history
On Labor Day here in the US, I began piling up what I want to bring on my Big European Adventure, commencing Friday. “Want” is not an accidental adjective. Some of what I pile up is not going to make the cut. That said, I have put a fair bit of thought into what I’m … Continue reading Magic hats and appendices: Let the packing commence!
For the next few weeks, welcome to my travel blog. When I turned 50, I threw a girls-only sleep-over party. Dinner and breakfast were both co-ed affairs, with invitees welcome to show up for either or both. It was a glorious event, held at a friend’s mansion-turned-law-office. (You can see photos here.) Judy (who flew … Continue reading How to turn 60 & go to Europe: be my sister’s sister
In 1989, I kicked off the freelance writing career that ended up tanking my marriage and catapulting me out of the middle class. (Or, to put it another way, I traded in one set of problems for another set that I liked better.) My book group. One of many joyful by-products of that trade-in. In … Continue reading Advance Reader’s Copies spark joy for local book group: A shoutout to William Morrow, Jennifer Chiaverini &, most of all, Mildred Fish Harnack
“It looks like it’s evaporating.” Sweetheart was talking about the bourbon. I’d been dusting the mantelpiece, which has become a sort of shrine to our combined ancestry. There’s Aunt Betty’s Aztec calendar and the silver bowl my then 80-something grandmother received to commemorate 2,500 hours of volunteer service at the nursing home in Tucson where … Continue reading Watered down before I was born: A boozy family tale starring my cousin Chuck and Guy Rehorst
Dear Rep. Omar: I’ve been writing you a letter in my head since the second round of “She’s a raging anti-Semite!” hysteria, but this is the first moment I’ve had time to actually begin setting anything down on virtual paper. Apologies in advance for the interruptions – our 11 am tickets to “Disney on Ice” … Continue reading Random Jewish American seeks Pen Pal: An open letter to Rep. Ilhan Omar
Sweetheart’s answer to where he went to school to become an arborist is, “I learned on the street.” We have that in common. To this day, I’ve never taken a journalism class. I learned to be a reporter on the street. Literally, somewhat, as part of my first job at a daily paper involved finding … Continue reading Talk to the understudy and other ‘stuff reporters do,’ starring Danny Arnold
I used to do way more book reviewing than I do these days. I also did a lot more feature writing. But that’s hardly a surprise when your job title is reporter. I still write the occasional book review at work – in fact, I have 10 to write in the next couple of weeks … Continue reading Hat tricks & ‘Palestinian Neighbors:’ a crash course in book review protocol
It was eight years ago on January 9 that Mom called from California to tell me our cousin Debbie had died. She was with Aunt Freda, her older sister and Debbie's mother. This year is the first they’re all gone. Mom, Debbie & Aunt Freda, all z"l now. This was probably taken in the '80s. … Continue reading Loosening family knots: a look back at big losses, big gain and sister stuff
#RacistinRecovery 2018 is almost in the rear-view mirror. On that front, at least, I think I made some progress. Professionally, I attended a pre-conference workshop on dismantling institutional racism in libraries, and was able to do that beautiful fusion of personal and professional when I took a six-week class called “Unlearning Racism” at our local … Continue reading #RIR2018 exits stage left, chocolate cupcake flowers wave in the wind as #WJDisaggregation2019 makes its entrance
the sentence factory 