In the months since my wife’s death, I’ve been slowly and meticulously disposing of her belongs and shedding household items that accumulated during the decades we were together.

I’m learning that my living alone requires much less stuff than what was needed when we and our two daughters comprised a nuclear family of four.

There are three sets of dishes, for example. Three sets of dishes for two people—who aren’t even kosher.

Read more
2 reactions Share

I Pressed the Button


Leonardo da Vinci said, “Art is never finished, only abandoned.”

In like manner, yesterday I abandoned further work on my novella, titled Charming Billy, and pressed the SUBMIT button, sending the manuscript across the ether and into the hands of the editors at Narrative magazine. 

Read more
Add your reaction Share

Something New in You


During the past several weeks I’ve been returning to the theater, one of my first loves, in an effort to restore my life after my wife’s valiant but fruitless sixteen-year struggle with breast cancer. 

Read more
Add your reaction Share

My Father Was a Bad Cop


Some years ago, a professor at Stanford University set up a mock prison on campus and recruited students to play roles as guards and prisoners. It was to be a two-week experiment, but within a few days the professor aborted the study because the student-guards turned vicious. To maintain power, they brutalized the student-prisoners whom they considered troublemakers. In like manner, some of the student-prisoners turned to collaboration with the student-guards in order to gain a scrap of control over their lives. The professor concluded that humans quickly learn to act according to their expectations of the roles they are given. This he called The Lucifer Effect.

Read more
2 reactions Share

Something To Be Said


Day’s end on Cape Cod Bay.

There’s something to be said about going it alone. With no one else partnering your life, you have both time without conversation and long spaces of silence. And in this dimension, you tend to notice things.

Read more
1 reaction Share

My First Saturday of Not Blogging

It’s been a nicely productive week since I announced a hiatus in my Saturday morning Paradise Diaries blog posts.

But here it is Saturday morning, and I find that three-year-old habits die hard.

I’m taking only an hour out of my “authoring” labors to post this “occasional” blog so I can update you about some exciting news.

Read more
Add your reaction Share



You are reading the 160th blog post that I’ve written during the three years since I launched Paradise Diaries on June 1, 2013.  

Thousands and thousands of page visits have been recorded since I established my web site. Google Analytics identifies my readers as coming from distances as far away and as diverse as Saudi Arabia, Pakistan and Philippines, Kenya, Ecuador and Vietnam.  The largest plurality of my readers is the 25-to-34-age group. And most are male—by 54 percent to 46 percent.

But it might be some time before I post my next blog.

Read more
5 reactions Share

Children of The Dream


I’ll never forget the Memorial Day when my Uncle Paul smacked his little girl across the face because she used a small American flag as a plaything.

It happened when we were little kids no more than seven or eight years old and the memory of World War II was still vivid for people like Uncle Paul, who himself had not served. 

Read more
Add your reaction Share

A Letter To My Grandsons


The graduation season is upon us and my three grandsons will be taking another step ahead in their education: Connor closing in on his undergraduate degree at Drexel, Andrew heading for his senior year of high school and Erik a few weeks away from his doctorate from Duquesne.

They are embarking on life, while I am now old enough to be seriously thinking about my debarkation.

What follows is my open letter to them.

Read more
1 reaction Share

Our Right To Be Happy


I’ve stopped wearing my wedding ring.

I’ve been at sixes and sevens about the ring ever since my wife died. Some days I wear it. It spends other days in the drawer. But now it’s off my finger for good. After 165 days as a widower, I’ve come to terms with the reality that I am not married.

Read more
4 reactions Share