JOHN HINCKLEY

In 2000 I wrote a piece for Time magazine about John Hinckley’s first attempt to get unsupervised visits into Williamsburg, Virginia. He was already allowed supervised day trips off the grounds of Saint Elizabeths Hospital. It was a lengthy article

AND THE WINNER IS…ANGER

I went out for a while last night and left the television on for my pug, Gracie. She likes to bark at the dog food commercials and, for reasons I can’t figure out, watches America’s Got Talent with rapt attention.

TERROR

After this latest terrorist attack — each, it seems, more horrific than the last — the phrase “the new normal” is now cropping up. What does that mean, I wonder? Does that mean we’ll stop being horrified? That we will

BULLETS AND TEARS

I’ve never before seen a man shot at close range as he lies on the ground; I’ve never seen a man shot through a car window and watched him bleed to death as his fiancé somehow keeps calm enough to

ELIE WIESEL AND THE FOURTH OF JULY

Elie Wiesel’s death has come two days before that uniquely American holiday, the Fourth of July. This year, more than any other in recent times, we might want to remember what the day signifies. It isn’t just barbecues, fireworks, and

THINGS I WISH I COULD ASK MY FATHER

To my father on Father’s Day: I wish I’d asked you more about the young nearsighted boy you once were, who took refuge in books, who learned to read  at a startlingly young age. Who spent hours on the river,

WAITING FOR GOD

When I was a child I had a dream that I was standing in a spot near my home where four streets intersected. I was in the wide middle area where I could look down all four streets, and I

RAPE

Brock Turner is a rapist. It’s irrelevant that he was or is a ‘swim star’ at Stanford. It’s irrelevant that he was a decent student. He is guilty of 3 felonies: Intent to commit rape on an intoxicated/unconscious person, sexual

excerpt from THE LONG GOODBYE

Twelve years ago, on June 5, my father died. This is an excerpt from my book The Long Goodbye which was published in 2004. The book chronicled the journey of losing him to Alzheimer’s, and this passage is about the

MEMORIAL DAY

When I was in high school, a boy a year ahead of me lied about his age and joined the Marines. It was the height of the Vietnam War, and that’s where he was headed. I didn’t know him that

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