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Funland

Twenty-two years ago this weekend, I left Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, with two grand in my pocket, a hot bike lashed to my VW Rabbit, and a tiny bit of blow in my nose. Back then, we mocked the families we served at Funland, checking out the young, hot, sunburned moms...

Baby Brain

I’m 38,000 feet over Albuquerque, New Mexico, when the newborn in 8B begins crying. I can hear it all — including the woman behind me whining and sighing to her husband — despite my noise canceling headphones. A baby’s shriek is a difficult...

Tuesday In The Park With Maggie

It was a cinematic, spring afternoon.   The sky was unwaveringly blue, shot through with bleached-lemon sunlight, all framed by the piercing, green canopy of a long-slumbering Central Park.  A cool breeze blew from the northwest, scattering pollen like snowflakes on a...

The Cruelty Of The Curbside Cab Line

Few things bring out New Yorkers’ lesser selves than the Penn Station taxi line during an Easter downpour. It’s also one of just a few scenarios capable of adding insult the injury of a late train and an exhausted ten-month-old. We were nearly three-hours...

Learning To Walk Again

Maggie took her first, tentative steps last week, slowly, deliberately and clumsily wobbling across the bedroom from her startled mother to her amazed father. She waved like a homecoming queen to steady herself, then collapsed on her bottom. Abbi and I were...