Each and every time the thought that I might get nominated came into my head, I pushed it out. I reminded myself how critically successful “The Jinx” had been, how many people had seen it and liked it and how proud I would be of the work, no matter what the Emmy nominations yielded.
The news came first as part of a cryptic e-mail from a colleague, a simple list of six categories, “Best Editing for Nonfiction Programming” among them.
“I think I just got nominated for an Emmy,” I said to Ben on one of our last days in the edit room for his boxing film, “Bleed for This.” Read more
I’m on the set of “Bleed for This,” the new boxing movie I am cutting. A large ring is set up in the center of the convention center in Providence, RI. There are a thousand extras scattered around the arena in strategic places so on screen the arena will appear packed to the brim. It’s a little odd in person, but magic through the camera.
The two actors (one a real fighter) circle each other throwing punch after punch. The director huddles behind the monitor, watching the choreographed punches with indelible scrutiny. They must be captured at the perfect angle to seem real. Read more
It’s four a.m. on the Monday before the wedding and it’s still dark out. We leave the house bound for Mexico with five huge suitcases packed to the brim and a wedding dress in a white garment bag so large it could have housed a body. There are a few members of the wedding party traveling with Emily and me and we are all equally bleary eyed. Read more
There seems to be something about human nature that no matter how many times you may hear advice or words of wisdom, it doesn’t truly sink in until you’ve experienced it for yourself.
Over the past few months I’ve personally learned a few new ones, and I’m sharing them with you in the hope that you will find them helpful.
Know the plan (even if it’s not your problem) Read more
One early morning last week Emily and I got up early and headed down to the city clerk’s office on Worth Street to get our marriage license. The office opens at 8:30, and we made it there by 8:45. (Not as early as we would have liked, but I was proud of us.) Read more
This is the end, beautiful friends, the end.
This isn’t the last column I will write, but it’s close. So, perhaps “the end is near” is more appropriate. I’m getting my farewell out of the way now so the actual last “Letter Home” isn’t a bummer. More and more I’m seeing the importance of happy endings.
As most of you know, I grew up on the streets of Narrowsburg and in the offices of this newspaper. Soon after I arrived at NYU, I started writing this column. Read more
I set out from work with an unusual mission. I was not headed to the subway. No no, there would be none of that wimpy stuff for me on this late summer evening. I was going to walk the 50-plus blocks home.
The sun was setting in the distance, and it was a lovely evening. But that wasn’t why I was going to walk. Truth is, I needed the steps. Desperately. You see, I was (am) deep in a step counting contest with my father and I am losing. Badly. Read more
When the water started to fall, my first thought was that it was raining. But the downpour seemed much closer and not muffled by the windows of our apartment.
My second thought was that I had foolishly left the water running in the bathroom. I checked; I had not.
As I walked into the kitchen, the sound got louder, and I realized that something was very wrong; water poured down through a light socket and splashed loudly to the floor. Read more
A few weeks after I proposed to Emily last August we set a date for our wedding: November 22, 2014. At the time this was 14 months away, which obviously felt like an eternity.
Emily came home with a wedding-planning book, which included a very helpful checklist of things to do based on how far away from the wedding we were—figure out the wedding venue, choose bridesmaids and groomsmen, pick an officiant, send out “save the dates,” design invites, shop for wedding rings. Gradually we began to check things off the list. Read more
As I drove through Eldred on my way to the Forestburgh Playhouse, I wondered if I would remember how to get there. It’s a drive I have done close to a hundred times, but not in many years. In high school, I spent three summers working in the kitchen and acting in bit parts at the playhouse, but I’ve been back only a handful of times since. Read more