Locking up our children
It’s the droning boring recitation of testimony in court cases that is the perfect accompaniment for me to oil paint by. Music is too evocative; so is the news. I half listen to Court TV while I paint. My mind gets absorbed in cadmium red and cerulean blue, while springtime flowers form on the canvas....
Our kids and the internet
Yesterday I spent the entire day, from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m., listening to teenagers relate to each other. “Relate” is certainly the wrong word choice. Something was awry with the interactions, which although innocent enough, lacked any contact besides non-stop insubstantial and banal twitters tossed into the air, which no one seemed to notice,...
Honoring the sources of American culture
Black History Month gives us the opportunity to celebrate the stellar contributions African-Americans have made to American culture — in particular, the art of dance. While researching the history of black dance, I found out how African-American dance first arrived here during the slave trade. Like so many stories from slavery times, it’s an ugly,...
Clothes make the man
Without the murmur of a topic to write about, I went snooping around the Occupy New Paltz site last Wednesday looking for inspiration. I heard muffled voices coming from one of the several tents tucked into a corner of Hasbrouck Park. All the flaps were down. Do I knock against the canvas? Will anyone hear...
A tree by any other name
A tree by any other name…is still a Christmas tree. We can rename it a holiday tree, but we all know it’s really just a Christmas tree with a new title. We can try to eliminate the baby Jesus and the nativity scenes from the lawns of our neighbors, our parks, malls and public buildings,...
Thoughts about the Penn State sex scandal
Fifteen years ago I had the opportunity to participate in a peace-and-justice mission hosted by the Catholic Church. Several artists, musicians and I, a choreographer, were invited to a remote outpost on a Caribbean island to teach the indigenous population music and dance. I was housed, along with the island’s half-dozen priests, in a stunningly...
Till death do us part
I thought Mayor Jason West was crying, but that’s only because I was. “Allergies are awful this year,” he said. “My eyes are killing me. The contact lenses only make it worse.” Through my tears I told him that a frost was expected that very night and he would get some relief by morning. That’s...
What killed Michael Jackson?
You are not alone I am here with you Though you’re far away I am here to stay You are not alone I am here with you Though we’re far apart You’re always in my heart” – Michael Jackson from the song “You Are Not Alone” There can be no doubt whatsoever that Michael...
A story for the Jewish New Year
At the end of summer, I met a man at a community party pig roast. I might not have noticed him at all had he not been chanting a Hebrew blessing over the forbidden slab of meat just before he ate it. It was clear to me from his strange behavior that he had one...
A connection to earth
“I cried because I had no shoes, then I met a man who had no feet” – Conventional wisdom “Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.” – Mel Brooks, comedian “Eat your vegetables. Children are starving in Europe.” – My mother (sometime...
The gift of special people
Of all the columns I have written for this paper, none garnered as much response as the column I wrote about Craig Wishnick two weeks ago. I believe that many people are interested in suicide, as well as autism and mental illness. Writing about Craig rekindled my interest in autism and savants. In particular,...