When I was young there were only 48 states, “Under God” was not in the Pledge of Allegiance, we got under our school desk in nuclear attack drills, TV was aborning in black and white with few channels, there was a smoking car on the rail road, pay phones were few and far between, Alan Freed was spawning Rock n’ Roll, I read The Daily Mirror tabloid, milk was delivered in the morning to the milk box, planes had propellers, bills were only paid in cash, police were men, the Yankees won almost every year, trophies were only for winners, Li

In the whirlwind of the confirmation, the subject of nicknames appears in the periphery. Specifically, the memory of nicknames from our youth. So, I’ll share my story. An attempt to obliterate my nickname of long ago. They called me Benjie. When I went off to college, I was determined to leave my nickname behind forever. I would answer to Ben and nothing else. My plan worked, or so it seemed. Through college and law school the old nickname remained in its dark place.

From HuffPost 2013: "As U.S. lawmakers argue about the economic effects of immigration on the country, they might as well consider that a lot of America’s most profitable companies were founded by people born elsewhere.

  Bill and I saw Billy Joel perform – again – at Madison Square Garden.    

With everything that was going on in the news last week, I thought I'd use my blog to relay an act of kindness that I experienced.  

So much experienced last week. Some truly tragic involving loss.  Revelations about hurt inflicted on others.

I want to share with you two posts my daughter sent me yesterday. They are so pwoerful...    

I admit that I go on Facebook, Twitter, and the Gotham Politics listserve in an effort to stir things up and engender intelligent discourse on topics of the day. However, in my opinion, I have failed as more and more, as the days go by, some of the responses are too much, characterized by extreme self serving smug certitude.