The only thing I find even creepier than the women at abortion rights rallies whose faces are so distorted with rage they look like fugitives from a de Kooning painting are the ones who link arms and virtually dance the Irish jig because they’ve succeeded in enshrining... Read More →

    It has been almost thirty years since I met Derek, but I can still hear his mother’s words echoing in my mind. “This is Derek,” she said as her cherubic looking toddler looked up at me, “He’ll be trouble.” I wondered, in that moment, how a mother could choose to... Read More →