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Childhood
Frankie And Perry And Patti And Dean
One object in our den stands out the most in my memory, for it retains the luminous glow with which my young eyes used to surround the special things of this world: my red-and-gold Motorola record player. It sat on the card table like a plump little household god, its short, thick spindle jutting up from the center of the turntable, capable of stacking eight 45-rpm records.
June 1999Time Past, Time Remaining
Lessons came fast, and sometimes violently. Once, an older boy urged me to yell, “You dirty Jew!” — words that I didn’t understand. I shouted the phrase up and down the alley until a tearful woman came running down three flights of stairs to slap my face, hard. My cheek can still recall the sting. That woman did me the ultimate favor.
May 1999Photographs By Rita Bernstein
In the early nineties, I left my job as a civil-rights attorney to devote my energy to photography. Having two young children at the time, I naturally began to record and investigate their lives with the camera. This quickly evolved into an exploration of the sweetness and sorrow of family life in general.
February 1999Candy
Raising money for a softball team, sharing a bag of rock candy, making gummy-bear jewelry
October 1998Getting Lost
An Appalachian Trail marker, a noodle shop, a white suit and matching fedora
September 1998They Leave You Here Alone In The Dark
When I was 4 years old they put me in the hospital / to remove my tonsils and adenoids. / The night after they operated / I could not sleep so I got up // and I wandered down the huge corridor, / nobody in sight, and I came to 2 big doors / so I went through them and that is when / I first heard the sound of real pain
August 1998We Domesticated Plants And Animals
And we’re still staggering like oxen laden / with too many wine barrels: what to do with all this time? // We were little more than plants or animals ourselves, / scratching in the dirt like chickens. Find, eat, find, eat.
August 1998Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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