“Watching your parents age is a weird thing. When you’re a kid they’re aging, but you live with them so you see it every day in increments too small to notice. But then you grow up, maybe leave home, and months pass between visits and you start to notice things: gray hairs that weren’t there before, wrinkles that have set in around their eyes, new habits that have formed. “

“I don’t remember too much about my first business trip, but I do remember making a fool out of myself, twice. Once in a funny kind of way that actually earned me some points as the cool new chick who could hang with the boys, and once in a, “what the hell were you thinking you naive child?” kind of way that did just the opposite.”

“They’ve unleashed my inner Brooklyn,” my mom yelled, knuckles white around the steering wheel of her car as we chased a van down Centennial Avenue, a sleepy neighborhood street whose only usual commotion was caused by the peacocks escaping from their enclosure on the corner lot.  

A reflection on my writing journey and how this site came to be

“An avid reader as a kid, I found immense joy within the pages of the books I read and welcomed the ways they could effortlessly transport me to distant places and times, allowing me to experience challenges and adventure from the safe distance afforded by my upper middle class life.”

A poem about leaving Manhattan in the midst of the Covid-19 Pandemic

“In both our rush to leave the city in March and to permanently move out in May neither of us really had time to give the city or our friends the proper farewell we wanted to. I feel almost guilty for being sad about that—I know we’re both so fortunate to be healthy, to work in jobs that could be done remotely, and to have had family we were able to stay with—but it didn’t change how I felt when I wrote this poem back in March: sad that our time in New York had come to such an odd and rushed end.”

“Barbara had just called the cops because she picked the phone up and thought she heard breathing on the other end. Victor, the doorman at Emily’s apartment building, gave Emily the low down on the building gossip whenever they caught up and this was the latest.”

“Over 90% of our pharmaceutical market is comprised of generic drugs, most of which are manufactured overseas. In the pages of this book, Eban exposes the generic drug industry as one that is teaming with fraud and deceit and led by executives who put profit over the safety of consumers, easily trick FDA inspectors, stifle whistleblowers with harassment and threats of violence, and bring drugs to market that are neither as safe nor as effective as we believe them to be.”