As Emily and I drove back to the city from my Aunt Sharon’s house, with bellies full of Christmas dinner, my eyes filled unexpectedly with tears. It was difficult to put my finger on what caused this emotional outburst since it had been a great day of exchanging presents, eating delicious food and hanging out with my family. I love Christmas and always have. Read more
[Editor’s note: Part 1 of this story, which appeared in The River Reporter issue of December 5, 2013, continued the tale of the Turkey Bandit and how he freed 50 turkeys, ruining Farmer Hickory’s Thanksgiving. In Part 1, the Bandit awakes to find that his family, Hen and Junior, have been kidnapped. As we pick up the story, the Turkey Bandit is trying to attempt a rescue of his family from the farmhouse….] Read more
[Editor’s note: The Turkey Bandit was first introduced in the Letters Home column in 2010. The saga continues....]
Previously, we heard the account of the Turkey Bandit’s Hickory Farms rescue. The Bandit and his partner, Jack, had outsmarted the watchdog, shut off the alarm and freed 50 birds from their upcoming slaughter; to the Bandit’s delight it had ruined poor Old Farmer Hickory’s Thanksgiving. Read more
The dinner was on the books for a few weeks before Emily and I got dressed up and walked the few blocks to the fancy restaurant in the West Village where we were to meet Harris. He had been a good friend of Emily’s father, Carl, before he died, and now controlled his estate.
Needless to say, I wanted to make a good impression. Read more
Emily and I are on the chairlift heading towards the Great Wall of China. It’s beautifully quiet, with nothing to hear save for the whirr of the lift and the occasional bird chirp. Eventually, the trees part and the wall appears over the horizon. It is breathtaking and stretches as far as the eye can see. Suddenly, the camera shakes and the image freezes. Rewinds. The trees part and the wall appears over the horizon again and this time the image FREEZES before the camera shakes. Read more
I came over the hill and saw him. Staring blankly back at me. As fast as I could manage, my foot glanced the brake and I slowed. If cars had faces (as a young child I got this idea in my head and forever see their head-lighted eyes, grill noses and bumper mouths) then this cop car was glaring at me. Read more
The students stare back at me blankly. I wonder if they are paying attention.
“Who knows the difference between overwrite and splice in?”
A few of them nod. One yawns long and large but then surprisingly raises his hand and answers the question. I guess you can’t blame them; it is a three-hour class on a Monday night.
It wasn’t too long ago that the tables were turned and I was a student sitting far back in the computer lab in an NYU editing class. I’m sure there were times I yawned, probably much worse. Read more
I sit writing this under the stars on a beach in Kauai, Hawaii. We have set up a small compound of three tents surrounding a small fire. The waves crash loud and soothing in the distance.
There are six of us, old college friends, visiting Hawaii because two of us (Emily and Andrew) are running the 26.2 miles of the grueling Kauai Marathon. (I use “us” loosely as I am part of the support team.) They have both been training for months and counting down the days to this end-of-summer Hawaiian adventure. Read more
I was nervous as Emily and I left our apartment and headed to the Union Square subway stop to catch the Q train up to the Paris Theater. We were headed to the theater under the guise of a test screening for the crime documentary I’ve been editing forever. I had a DVD in my backpack—along with an engagement ring.
The DVD did not have the crime documentary on it but instead had a cute little movie I made about my trip to get said engagement ring. Save for Emily and me, the theater would be empty, and when the seven-minute movie was over I was going to propose. Read more