A gay boy and his deaf uncle connect through the unspoken experience of being outsiders in a family It was a warm evening and we were eating outside on my grandparents’ rarely used patio. We gathered at Nanny and Papa’s, my maternal grandparents’ home for Thanksgiving, the High Holidays, and…

I’m being watched, tracked, followed. Prostate, thyroid, dry eyes. My heart and sludgy arteries, my deaf ear, (the hearing gone suddenly one winter morning when I was 49) and now the skin, the very architecture of my body –- the café-au-lait birthmark that maps the terrain of my left arm…

Taking care of my mother and myself — I’m sitting in a writing class, trying to concentrate on my assignment when the text from my mother’s care manager pops up on my phone: “Your mother is down to 79.2 pounds this morning.” Suddenly I’m back in Cleveland in mind and body, picturing her –- or trying to –…

My life at 66 — I’ve never been one for sitting still; for me, reflection and rare moments of peace come through motion. I have a sporadic once-or-twice weekly yoga practice, which, when I tune into my body and concentrate, centers and relaxes me. But those brief tastes of relaxation, of comfort in my own…

Facing the reality of life at 66 — I live in a communal house in downtown Boston, on the city’s historic Beacon Hill. My personal space is small — an 8x14' room that looks out on Chestnut Street, just a block from the State Capitol, its gold dome shining over Boston Common. Living here, with 18 others, I…

Being Single During Covid — Alone Together — the public service announcement crows on my TV, as various celebrities remind me to stay home, to maintain physical distance, to clear the way for the front-line workers who are just trying to do their jobs and risking their health for us, for the common good. I…

Watching my mother’s decline — “Your mother’s candle is flickering,” the nurse says, her flat Midwestern vowels transporting me back to Cleveland, 600 miles west, where my 94-year-old mother is fading away in assisted living. I am the dutiful son, the one who visits every two or three months. I am the one who still…

Getting through the holidays one day at a time — Each year, when the holidays roll around, I tend to hibernate — or try to. As a single, gay, Jewish man, I feel like an outsider. Despite the formerly-hyped “war on Christmas,” it’s hard not to feel apart from the mainstream if one doesn’t partake in the great American holidays…

Writing Prompt #22 — Back in my early thirties, when I worked at Boston University, I had a love/hate relationship with the winter holidays. While I looked forward to vacation and two weeks away from work, I dreaded that much unstructured time, and having no one to spend it with. …