5:33

  This is the first time that I am writing about my father’s murder. Twenty-one years ago, on December 7, 1993, my father boarded a 5:33 commuter train from Penn Station, never to return home.  One stop before Mineola, where he lived with my stepmother and half-sister, my father was shot to death by a … Read more

Avoiding the Bends

Lately I have been wondering who suffers more—the person who lives each day in denial or one who lives with self-awareness? There has to be a reason for the existence of the phrase “ignorance is bliss.” I know many people who seem to be happy and who do not work on themselves at all.  Is it … Read more