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It’s January 17th

In this short excerpt from The Devil’s Mistress:The Diary of Eva Braun the Woman who Lived and Died with Hitler we visit Eva Braun on another January 17th. Based on extensive research and supported by a factual armature, this novel of evil takes the reader into the hidden erotic life of Hitler and (as she was affectionately(…)

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Guest: Dance that doesn’t look like dance

  For a long while I’ve greatly admired, and felt true kinship, with playwright/poet/dancer  Sissy Boyd. Originally from Philadelphia’s Main Line, she currently resides, creates and performs in Southern California. Sissy is a former Martha Graham dancer, has acted in films as well as on stage. She’s a woman after my own heart, spare, understated, still-waters-running-deeply incarnated that includes a  sharp(…)

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My son was born during a transit strike

According to the Socialist Workers Party, the transit strike that winter trumpeted the still vital power of the working class as 36,000 workers walked out on the 2nd day of the new year. [see The Militant by Farrell Dobbs] Not one subway, bus or ferry moved for 12 days, paralyzing the city during a very cold winter. One(…)

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Erasing the holiday

Put away scotch tape, scissors, two kinds of wrapping paper. Cross out names of dead or disappeared from card and gift lists. Return lists to folder in filing cabinet. Tear interesting stamps off cards received to bring to Bill P. in Greece for use in collages. Tear up envelopes, add to bag of used wrapping paper, ribbon, packages. Discard dead tulips.(…)

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Romanticizing the Irish

I dedicated my first novel Clairvoyant, the Imagined Life of Lucia Joyce  (the story of James Joyce’s daughter Lucia Joyce, who spent 47 years in mental hospitals), to an Irish nurse friend. At the end of my Author’s Afterword I wrote: … This book is dedicated to all kind, caring nurses around the world especially Nurse A.G. Kennedy…whose(…)

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Encomium Zoe

I have very few skills and, with the passing of time, some I once had (like fencing, card games, life guarding, dancing through the night) have fallen into disuse. It might be possible to re-nourish those gone to seed but I doubt it will happen. One of my few enduring talents, though, has been my capacity for appreciating people. I’ve(…)

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On being German

My generous, inexhaustible friend Jo Shultze was born in the Black Forest of Germany just before World War II. She, her entire family, her Berlin-born husband, his family – by reason of birth – were threads sewn into the vast tapestry of that war, that defeat, that reconstruction. At some point Jo (a teacher) left Germany and moved to the east(…)

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