Caro’s ‘Working’ provides another primer on American political power
Years ago, I was walking through Central Park with my father when he pointed to a rather uninspired playground consisting of metal swings, a see-saw, and monkey bars floating in a sea of concrete. “Moses,” he uttered with derision. He was referring not to the biblical prophet, but to Robert Moses, the powerful urban planner and builder who had radically transformed New York City during the previous five decades. Read more
He has been gone now for 30 years; we miss his clear-tone political voice
Politics was like a religion in my family. My father – the freelance political writer and historian Walter Karp – was our high priest. He had a deep and abiding love for the American republic and little tolerance for lazy thinking or conventional wisdom. When others took aim at the American people, he turned his critical eye toward those in power. He did not believe in social forces; he preferred to name names and misdeeds. Perhaps most of all, he did not believe you could be apolitical. “Apolitical is political,” he would say, “it just means you support the status quo.” Read more
The film ‘Intelligent Lives’ captures the value of difference being normal
What would it take to create a more inclusive society where every one of us is truly welcomed and valued? This is one of the most urgent questions of our time, one that can seem too daunting to tackle. It’s a question that Dan Habib has been thinking about for almost two decades. Read more
Finding Light in Dark Times: An Interfaith Family at the Holidays
When we were kids, my sister and I clamored for a Christmas Tree. When we asked my mother why couldn’t have one, she replied, “Because we’re Jewish!” We would then decorate the pussy willows in the living room with origami and random trinkets found around the house. When family friends came over, we would direct them to our pathetic little Chanukah Bush and ask, “Isn’t it sad?” Read more
Why Mr. Rogers is as important as ever today
Last week, my wife and I went to the Coolidge Corner Theatre to see the new documentary film about Fred Rogers, “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”
We both grew up in the 1980s so to some extent this was a sentimental journey back to our childhoods. But the film is not simply a nostalgic look at an iconic children’s television show. Like “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood,” which ran for over three decades on public television, it is a radical call for us to love one another and offer our best selves to the world. It is a message as critically important today as it was in 1968 when Mr. Rogers first told America’s children that he loved them just the way they are. Read more
Finding my way home on St. Patrick’s Day
Our closest friends and family have gathered for an after party in the Honey Fitz room at Doyle’s. I am still in my rented tuxedo and Courtney is wearing her wedding dress, sneakers, and a Red Sox cap and veil her bridesmaids made for her bachelorette party. We walk into the front room to grab some beers and the regulars give us a rousing cheer. The bartender hands us two pints, but declines our cash. He points to a woman a few seats down the bar who smiles as she lifts up her glass and says, “Love the hat, honey. Cheers!” Read more
We don’t need an act of Congress to create safer and more inclusive schools
The words move across your phone, laptop, or TV screen: “School shooting.” You read the horrific details about the latest gun-fueled massacre. You feel sadness for the young victims and their families. Grief morphs into anger at lawmakers for failing to address widespread violence by gunfire. The latest rampage took place last Wednesday at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. Fourteen students and three teachers were killed when a former student, Nikolas Cruz, opened fire from a legally purchased, semi-automatic AR-15 rifle. Seven students were fourteen years old. Read more
‘There’s nothing for us here,’ Trump’s TPS decision hits local families hard
Marie Jean Baptiste was on her way home from work when the earthquake struck Haiti in January 2010. As the ground beneath her feet undulated, she could barely move. It was hours before she got back to her family in Santo, a village several miles outside Port-au-Prince. The earth had been shaking so violently from the quake that her husband Shyller, who had been gardening in their yard, had to struggle to get inside the house to retrieve their newborn son. Read more
Fulfilling a lifelong dream
When I was a boy, I had a secret hiding place in a musty closet in my bedroom, a room that doubled as my father’s office. I would scamper up a set of angled shoe shelves, past out of season clothing, to the very top of the closet. This was my office. Like my father’s work space, it was equipped notebooks, pens, and an old-fashioned typewriter. In my mind, I was a writer who, like my dad, used words to expose the wrongdoings of the bad people.
Looking back on this memory, I am struck by my lack of creativity. I had no castles to storm or dragons to slay. I created a fantasy world in a closet that was a little kid’s version of the world right outside that closet. My imagination took me no more than several feet from my lived experience as the son of a working writer. This was the fantasy of a child who felt safe and comfortable, who felt no psychic need to escape to a different world. Read more
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