WRITING EXERCISE

At the supermarket two weeks ago, I encountered a man. He’d knocked down a display. I couldn’t pass by with my wagon while he was picking it up. I said, “I’ll wait…it’s usually me that does that…” –very female. I am protecting his pride. He smiles. “You’re a good citizen,” I add. He says, “If you knock something over you pick it up.” A principle. A morality play. But we had connected...

When I was in kindergarten, at four years old because I had a January birthday, I met Donna Pukatch, who would become my best friend until I left Brooklyn, when my family moved to Queens. We were already bonded by the time of this recollection...