No. 27: My New Year’s Resolution: Watch More TV

In 2019, I resolve to watch more TV. The problem is I prefer to work. I’m preoccupied with getting my stories published and producing a podcast, which is why I hardly ever cozy up in front of the TV and veg out.

The TV was always on in my house growing up. My brother was addicted. And because the TV was on, I watched from the day I was born until the day Tony went to college in 1984. I was 16. In those 16 years, I logged 23,296 hours, which is a conservative estimate based on the 1970s national average.

I consumed some really good shows: The Brady Bunch, M.A.S.H., Charlie’s Angels, The Jeffersons, Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley. And when my parents went out and we were left with a babysitter, we’d stay up to watch The Love Boat and Fantasy Island.

When my brother went to college, my pop-cultural education ended and now it’s so embarrassing to talk about life between 1984 and today because if it happened on TV, I missed it. Whenever anyone mentions 90210 or The Sopranos, I feel like a total dodo. (READ FULL ESSAY HERE…)

No. 26: Jewish Christmas

On Monday, after dinner, my wife, Vicky, our son, Sebastian, and I went to the Firefighter’s Christmas tree lot and picked out a tree. Tashi, who’s 14, stayed home to do her hair.

Sebastian, who’s nine, dragged the tree inside and Vicky directed him to put it in the corner of our living room, right in front of a giant window facing the street. Sebastian closed the wooden blinds to make more room for the tree. The blinds have never been closed before, but I haven’t opened them. I don’t want the neighbors to see our tree.

I found a box of Christmas decorations stashed in our garage. There were kid-made Santas and a Rudolph made out of popsicle sticks, even a popsicle-stick Star of David. We also had a string of lights, we’d never used, and an unopened box of ornaments — quarter-sized animal faces.

Sebastian got to work. Tashi came down the stairs and with none of her usual teenage snark, she said, “Smells so good.”

For once, our house didn’t smell like dog. (READ FULL ESSAY HERE…)

No. 24: Oversharing on Facebook Can Lead to Good

A few weeks ago, I posted something on Facebook. My mom wrote in the comments, “Would you like it if your mom was as forthcoming as you? Asking for a friend.”

I wrote a story about letting a man go inside me without wearing a condom and why, after years of advocating for safer-sex, and even after coming out as a lesbian, I would let that happen. Then I posted the story on Facebook. It’s not the most embarrassing thing in the world, but my mom thought it was an overshare.

My story was not just about how I accommodated one man, but about the way women accommodate men all the time. Besides my mom, most people were supportive. My friend Elizabeth wrote in the comments, “This story is a public service. We need to look at all the ways women have been conditioned to accommodate.”

I felt validated, like the world was giving me a high-five. And then friends started to challenge me. How can you blame men? How can you accuse women of being passive? (READ FULL ESSAY HERE…)

No. 23: The Things She Carries in Her Giant Purse

My wife, Vicky, is an immigrant. When we met eleven years ago, she had already been living in the United States 13 years. I thought she spoke perfect English, but when dessert came she said, “Let’s dive onto this pie.”

She told me she’s from Venezuela. I’m from Miami and knew nothing about Venezuela. I said, “South America, right?”

She said, “That’s good. I’ve dated Gringas who think it’s near Greece.” (READ FULL ESSAY HERE…)

No. 22: Fifty Yards

My nine-year-old beat me in a running race.

We’ve raced before. The last time, when he was about six, I ran just slightly ahead of him, close enough so he felt like he was in the race and also close enough so he could pull on my shirt. But I never let him win. That felt dishonest.

Today when he said, “I’ll beat your butt,” I said, “No way.” I was confident even though he’s now almost five feet tall and I’ve been watching him bolt down the basketball court faster than all his teammates. But still, he’s a little kid. No upper lip fuzz yet. And every night when I tuck him into bed, he still hugs me way too long. (READ FULL ESSAY HERE…)

No. 21: Can You Hear Me Now?

I called South Florida ENT Associates. I said, “I’d like to make an appointment for a hearing test.”

The receptionist asked my name, had I gotten a referral and, “What service can we help you with?”

I said, “I’d like to make an appointment for a hearing test.”

She said, “Oh, right.”

I thought: Is this woman not paying attention or does she need a hearing test? (CLICK ANYWHERE TO READ FULL ARTICLE)

No. 20: Funny Story…

My brother has cancer. /A few weeks ago, my mom had my brother’s family and my family over for dinner. Tony had just gotten a lump removed from his neck. There was a possibility it was cancer, but he hadn’t yet gotten the results. When it was time to set the table, Tony said, “I can’t because of the cancer.” / When it was time to clear the table Tony said, “I can’t because of the cancer.” / He got a few chuckles from his kids, but his wife, Lisa, who didn’t laugh, said, “What is wrong with you?” / From across the table, I said, “Lisa, he has cancer.” / She laughed hard. Everyone laughed, so I called for a vote. / Whenever someone in my family says anything funny, that person calls for a vote. I said, “Who’s the funniest in the family?” Like always, we all voted for ourselves. I’m 50 now and Tony is 52. We’ve been voting this way since we were little kids. (CLICK ANYWHERE TO READ FULL STORY)

No. 19: How Do I Teach My Children?

There are some things I’ve had a hard time explaining to my kids. Not the obvious things, like how babies are made. That was easy. / When my daughter, Tashi, asked me at nine, I said, “I went to a sperm bank and bought sperm. Then I went to a nurse who put the sperm inside my vagina to meet my egg. That’s how you were made.” / At the time I thought I should explain it to Sebastian, who was four. I said the same thing, except, “The nurse put the sperm inside Mami Vicky.”

A harder thing to explain was why Sebastian had to stay close to me at the airport. When he was around five, Sebastian bolted away from the luggage carousel. I ran him down through the crowd and grabbed the back of his shirt. I knelt down and out of breath, I said, “You have to stay close to me.” / He said, “Why?” / “Someone might snatch you.” / “Why would someone snatch me?” /“Sometimes people aren’t nice,” I said. (CLICK ANYWHERE TO READ FULL STORY)

No. 17: Men Over Women In Sex, In Everything, Always, All the Time

Thirteen years ago, I had sex with an old friend. We went out, as usual, chasing girls. We were each other’s wingmen. We went to a lesbian bar this time. He was a hit. He always found the one straight woman to talk to. / I’d dated boys in high school and men in college. I’d had plenty of sex with men. I liked it. But at 23, I fell in love with a woman and I thought that changed everything. I thought I was empowered. I would have even used that word — empowered — which I’d learned in college, in women’s studies classes. Today the word is woke. I thought it applied to me because I’d rejected convention. I was a lesbian. (READ MORE BY CLICKING ANYWHERE)

No. 16: Do I Have a Big Nose?

I had a girlfriend once who said I had a big nose. I said, “You just think I have a big nose because I’m Jewish.” /

The truth was, Patricia’s nose was bigger than mine. She disagreed. To settle the nose issue, we asked my niece Natalie, who was about five at the time, and who I hoped was not yet biased by stereotypes. / (Click anywhere for full story.)

No. 14: What Not to Write in Your College Essay

Early admissions applications are due next month so high school seniors all over the country are writing their college essays. My niece is working on hers and that got me thinking about the college essay I wrote 33 years ago. / Mine was a puffed up version of winning a cross-country race. The essay highlighted my most prominent personality trait — my ego. The good news: It charmed the admissions officers at the University of Pennsylvania. The bad news: It was full of shit.

No. 12: Miami Caste System

“MIAMI CASTE SYSTEM” (IN THE HAVEN)

Dear Ivette, I noticed you planted a hedge on the swale between your swale and our swale. I noticed you didn’t plant a hedge on the other side, which makes this hedge feel very aggressive. Also, you have to admit, your lawn is awkward now.

No. 11: Jews for Mary

“JEWS FOR MARY” (IN P.S. I LOVE YOU)

When I came out 27 years ago, it wasn’t easy for my Jewish mother to accept her lesbian daughter, but along came a bigger threat: I married a Catholic. / My mom called one night and without even saying hello she said, “Vicky’s religiosity is gonna seep into you; I just know it.” / “What?” / “You’re gonna become Catholic.” / “Mom!” / “You said you were jealous of the rosaries.”

WHAT ARE THESE NUMBER ESSAYS ABOUT?

I’m a slow writer. I want to write better. I want to write faster. And like Marianne Williamson says, I have one last chance to get it right. Because there’s no time like the present; because turning 50 is better than the alternative; and because you only live once, I’m going for it. This year, the year I turned 50, I’m going to write 50 essays in 50 weeks. (Gives me two weeks off.) TO READ THEM ALL, FOLLOW ME ON MEDIUM. I’ll post some of them occasionally here. JUST CLICK ANYWHERE ON ANY STORY SNIPPET TO READ THE FULL ESSAY. 

No. 9: Controlled Burn

Last Saturday I went to a conference for artists and entrepreneurs. During one of the sessions, a panelist talked about his struggle with anger. He said, “Some days I feel like I’m spewing fire and I wonder if I’m burning myself the most.” / There was a collective moan from the audience, a group of like-minded progressives. No one needed to explain what everyone might be angry about. / Someone from the audience said, “We need to do a controlled burn. That way we can replant and feed everyone.” 

No. 7: Hypocritical, Self-Riteous Closet Case

Two years ago, when our daughter, Tashi, was 12, the whole family was invited to a Bat Mitzvah at the synagogue where she went to elementary school. She was in 7th grade at that point, but all her former classmates would be there, which sent Tashi into a panic. She had trouble falling asleep the night before. She didn’t say why, but I knew. Tashi has two moms.

No. 6: Full Circle

I’ve known the necklace my entire life. My mom wore it always. It’s a simple gold chain with two old-fashioned figures hanging from a horizontal bar. One is a boy in a top hat; the other is a girl in pigtails. My dad bought the necklace after I was born, in 1968. The kids on the necklace represented my brother and me.)

No. 2: Bribery a Parenting Tactic

I have a friend who used M&Ms for potty training. I didn’t have to do that. At two, my daughter, Tashi, watched a little girl at daycare use a potty and that was that. / From the day she was born until she became a teenager, Tashi was a pleaser. I’d say, “Do your homework.” And even though homework involved sharpening pencils and then losing them and then handstands between every vocabulary word, Tashi did what she was told. / Now, Tashi’s 14 so parenting has evolved into a series of bribes.

No. 1: Happy Birthday

I’m a slow writer. I want to write better. I want to write faster. And like Marianne Williamson says, I have one last chance to get it right. Because there’s no time like the present; because turning 50 is better than the alternative; and because you only live once, I’m going for it. This year, the year I turned 50, I’m going to write 50 essays in 50 weeks. (Gives me two weeks off.)

One down.