On Friday morning, February 23, 2007, my father, Bob David Sr., took his last breath. He was 81. I can hardly convey my gratitude for the way events played out over the last trying months, days, and hours of his life, and for all the gifts he gave me during that time and following. Here are a few details. ...more

I knew we would meet exactly three minutes before we in fact did. I got a call on a special phone at work late last night telling me you were an estimated age of 3 and you had been shot in your chest and were not breathing. That was all I knew, but that was enough to get my attention—all of it. The truth is I had been preparing to meet you for many years, readying myself in every way I could to take the very best possible care of you in the seconds that mattered most if we should ever meet under these circumstances—even though I never EVER wished we would. ...more

As I faced the impending death of my beloved father, Alex Schoenbrun, I wondered how many more times I would feel satisfied saying and hearing “I love you” so that it would last me the rest of my life. ...more

It wasn’t always pleasant when my husband Bill and I discussed politics. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan aren’t pleasant so why would discussions about them necessarily be? We usually ended up agreeing to disagree before a full-scale war would break out at the kitchen table. That can happen when a closet Republican marries a Democrat. On matters of religion, Bill’s predictable response was a discussion stopper: “You mean you haven’t figured that one out yet?” ...more

When I met and fell in love with my charming, fascinating, creative ex-husband, I never saw the addict. We came together as poet and painter, with great passion for our respective gifts and for each other. It would be six months before I would begin to suspect that this exciting roller coaster ride of joint inspiration and creativity came with “another woman”—Lady Crack Cocaine. ...more

Our parents, in-laws, aunts and uncles are dropping like flies. Rarely two weeks go by without my hearing about someone’s relative finally giving up or giving in and leaving for good. In most cases, this is good. I know how cold and heartless this sounds, but none of us lives forever, and in the great majority of these cases, the soon-to-be-deceased are more than ready to go. ...more

From Publisher Bob David:

Around 1970, the author of this article seized an opportunity to kill a man who he was sure was intent on killing him. He was convicted of first-degree murder and given a life sentence.

Despite this glaring truth, Wilfredo grew to earn the sincere respect of all who knew him during his long incarceration. ...more

As far as I know, aside from stamping out ice cream cones in a factory when he was a teenager, my father’s entire working career revolved around the selling of alcoholic beverages. He began as a high school student helping out in the tavern purchased by his father, who had accumulated a fortune building houses before losing it in the Crash of 1929 and trying another avenue to get back on his feet. ...more

One Christmas day the whole family came together, as was the custom: my father, stepmother, younger and older sisters, older brother, possibly two grandmothers, maybe an aunt and uncle, and, I recall, various step-relations.

I was 15 or 16 years old. We exchanged gifts and consumed a great big midday meal, desserts and everything. The pressure of the festivities had me ready to explode. So my brother and I decided to leave the family gathering, as was our custom, for some adventure of our own. ...more