Write Through Doors

In 2022, I was changed, shaken up, maybe even woken up by three places I visited. Did I “get woke?” Do people still say that? This definition for “Get Woke” in the Urban Dictionary does feel right:  “Getting woke is like being in the Matrix and taking the red pill. You get a sudden understanding […]

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My father, Morton Eisenberg, became “slightly famous” because of his involvement in a time when the U.S. and Russia nurtured a partnership. (As the U.S. speaks out in 2022 about Russia invading the Ukraine, it’s hard to believe that there have been times when the such a “friendly” relationship existed.) Learn more below.   This […]

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It sparks joy for me to remember my parents, Morton and Helen Eisenberg, who left us in 2013 and 2017. So I keep some of their stuff.  Would Marie Kondo approve? (I might have a teensy bit too much.) But I needed room on a shelf for my art supplies in May of 2022, in […]

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As I write this, my laptop rests on a round yellow pillow with a picture you’ve seen:  the happy face emoji wearing sunglasses. I love the sun, I love fun, and I love writing. In 2021, I completed my memoir, From the Period. To the Colon: Memoir of a Child Writer. “I write entirely to […]

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A slice of life about life with my parents of blessed memory, Helen and Morton Eisenberg, and some toothpicks. Written in 2003. I’m awake and I’m laying in bed in my parents’ house on Saturday morning.  I can feel the humidity seeping through the windows of the spare bedroom in their little Florida house even […]

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Hello, friends.  Perhaps you are reading this in your PJs, or you took the big step today to shower, put product in your hair, and zip into jeans.  It’s 7:48 AM as I write this, coffee by my side, in my flannel yellow duck PJs. But here’s really what I want to talk about. We […]

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In the summer of 2015, I was rushing to leave Harrods, the fanciest department store in England, maybe anywhere in this universe. I had just walked past a $400,000 dining table (it had glass artwork embedded in its base). In my sweaty American fingers I carried a plastic bag that said “Harrods,” in which I […]

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Does this look like the face of a criminal? In 1968, when I was in 7th grade in Fels Jr. High School in Philadelphia, someone thought so. Even a little bit of trouble when you’re a goody-goody like I was can make your adrenaline spike, dampen your palms and dry your mouth, and tighten your […]

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When I ask friends to try the “JoJo Bebbie Writes Home” Sandwich  at Zingerman’s this month, they wonder why.  “For starters,” I say, “it’s a fundraiser for young writers at 826Michigan, an awesome non-profit.” Sometimes they ask, “What’s a Jo Jo Bebbie?” It’s roasted turkey with honey mustard, over-roasted tomato spread, and lettuce on warm […]

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Peggy Armstrong and I started out as neighbors in the 90’s. I lived on Morehead, she lived on Delaware.   Our daughters Sarah and Meghan were the same age. I remember the first time I saw her, and I was struck by how well put together she was. Her lipstick was  fresh, her hair neatly combed, […]

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