TAKE A LOOK AT MY ESSAYS.

Jenny Milchman's "Made it Moment"  

How I got Joyce Carol Oates to read the first chapter of my unpublished novel and then some: 

Back in the summer of 2004, after reading that Joyce Carol Oates was giving an author talk at a local library, I decided to print out the first chapter of my novel, Lily Steps Out (Penumbra Publishing 2012), enclose it in a  SASE and bring it to the reading. 

EAST HAMPTON STAR: 

Going Imogi 

I thought I was up on things  when I learned to text. And though my aging thumbs refused to fly across the keypad of my cellphone --treck was more like it--once I got the hang of using the tiny microphone to record, it took only minutes to send a message. Easy as pie. And quick! 

BOOMER CAFE: 

Kaddish in the Time of Covid 19

 When my son died this past November after enduring ALS for nine years, I  said Kaddish for him. That’s the daily Jewish memorial prayer in honor  of a loved one. Kaddish is recited in the presence of a minyan, which  means ten or more adult Jews assembled in one place. I also made it my  business to get up every morning, dress, and drive to my synagogue for  services, sometimes as early as 6:30am. 

How terrible, I thought, when I learned the Capitol had been stormed by a mob.  How could this happen in our country. And yet, when I consider the election itself--how the record number of women will serve in Congress, and how Kamala Harris will soon be our next Vice President --I'm flying high. 

"Just a Girl Who Can't Say No"

Not  since  I was a chubby adolescent and thought I was Lana Turner  in the mirror on my mother's bedroom door, did I ever imagine my self in a beauty contest. So why, at age 80, did I find myself trussed up in Spandex, in front of hundreds of strangers in a a Ms. Senior America Pageant.  

BEST OF POTATO SOUP JOURNAL 2020

"Attachments"

I push forward. I pull back. Push forward. Pull back. Forward. Back. My hand grips the handle of my Shark "ultra-light upright," walks it through my apartment. White noise constant, silencing my grief-stricken  brain. She's not dead. She's not dead. I vacuum with a vengeance.