Nora was born nearly four years ago, and she was born in New York City. The belly of the beast. Borough of Manhattan, hospital of St. Luke’s–Roosevelt, neighborhood of Whatever the Realtors Call It Heights. She’ll always have that. I spent my first 18 years in the avowedly suburban confines of Bethesda, Maryland, but I …
Continue reading “The Tantrum: Should You Just Move to the Suburbs Already? Part 3”
Mrs. Hicks all but rubbed her palms together at the prospect: “I love it when the dads are the Helping Parents,” she told me. “I try to make sure we do an extra-messy project.”
Lead Us Not Into Penn Station. Last week, an old friend of mine, a prominent journalist, came in from out of town to interview my governor. Chris Christie isn’t too popular around these parts—Maplewood’s got an enormous Brooklyn diaspora, and Christie looks like your garden-variety fat-headed, fat-cat Republican: wrestling with a tight budget, he trains …
Continue reading “Here Be Mobsters! 13 Ways of Looking at New Jersey, Part 3”
Back home, Nora and I handed out a little candy, then read a couple of genuinely creepy library books in front of a nice fire—hey! a fire I built! Myself! Nora was asleep within five minutes of heading to bed. That was just after 8, and then things took a scary turn.
