Since we are having a national dialogue about race, I thought I would share some other posts that I wrote on the subject over the last few years.
Reading was an essential part of my growing up. My parents were both teachers and voracious readers. During the summer we went as a family to the library at least once a week. Wherever we were, Brooklyn, Champaign-Urbana, Worcester, we frequented the library. I remember particularly loving biographies. I believe there was a series specifically for children and I read them all. I was inspired by the stories of Frederick Douglass and Harriet Tubman, drawn to stories of heroes who overcame fear and danger to find freedom. Though my life bore no similarity to them, I wanted to be heroic. I wanted to be part of the fight for freedom and justice.
As I think about it now, there were a number of strands that came together to fuel this passion. I was aware that my paternal grandfather had lost his parents and sister in the Holocaust. My grandfather, Leo…
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Stories I Tell Myself 
It is such a weird part of existence. You can go to school with someone, work with them and yet live in such different worlds. Frankly it feels so unhealthy to be so separated from people living so close.
On the positive side, the New York City government is now saving 50% on painting those subway cars since they changed the name of the line.
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