Five Years a Writer

a tiny portrait of Mendel I bought at a fundraiser for The Kidney Foundation, an organization for which he volunteered countless hours Thursday, March 26, 2026 Nine years gone Remembered today and every day Dear Mendel:  Your physical self is long gone, but your spirit remains alive. What a presence you were on this earth. Full of life, of good will. Even when pain was getting the best of you through those many years of chronic illness, your eyes twinkled and you claimed  "fabulous" as the way to get through every day, even the darkest.  I know you will be happy to know that I continue to work with your beloved wife Deborah, who remains a force of creative energy, sharing her genius in our writing classes and bringing new stories -- including that novel she promised you -- to life. Though you are gone, your own force of life continues, threaded tightly into your children's and your grandchildren's lives. And, if I may be so bold, into the lives of your friends, includ...

  The other day I had three active text message chains blinking on my phone. Three different people were communicating with me at the same time — and I was keeping up. Just. I was monitoring their responses, composing my own, keying them in, sending, and waiting for the next reply. All the while marvelling at what texting enables us to do. Too much, maybe, but sometimes it’s kind of fun. I don’t always like juggling so many communication balls in the air, but that morning I was well caffeinated and enjoying the challenge    — a nd keeping the three different chains separate and clear one from the other, which isn’t always the case. But today it was. I’m a communicator. I like connecting with people, having conversations, making meaning with others, sometimes making plans, often merely keeping the thread of relationship alive between us. A quick text asking, ‘How is it going over there?’ or ‘Awful weather today, isn’t it!’ is enough for that. Which is why I am perplexed wh...