Dear New Shrink, I recently received a job offer to join a new company. I am really excited about this new opportunity, however, I am nervous about letting my current boss know that I am leaving.
America needs new jobs, sustainable ones. As we continue to recover from economic downfall and a dwindling job market, this nation’s workforce waits anxiously for stability to return.
Mother’s Day just passed and I can’t help recalling those times when my grown-up children were those adorable babies. I cherish those minutes that I held them high in the air and they made me laugh because they laughed — and my heart was so overflowing with love that it ached.
What happens when you get a parking ticket you think you didn’t deserve? You could pay the fine and chalk it up to a “bad day,” or you could contest it.
I’m glad I’m not a kid today. It doesn’t look like as much fun as when I was a boy. Maybe outside urban areas it’s still fun, but from where I stand, when I watch children these days, I see over protected, insulated, and sheltered kids and I wonder how they are going to manage later in life after gr
Q: Unfortunately, I was involved in a minor traffic collision this past weekend. Both vehicles were not damaged too badly and they were both safe to drive.
Neil Simon and Jason Alexander would appear to be a theatrical match made in heaven. And so they are. In Simon’s “The Prisoner of Second Avenue,” now running at the El Portal Theater in North Hollywood, Alexander romps, rages, and unravels to early Simon at his most hilarious.
Readers often ask where I get the ideas for my columns. (Some have asked why I bother, but that’s another issue.) Today’s offering has a rather circuitous evolution.
Dear New Shrink, I feel jealous of so many of my friends and after watching the royal wedding, I am even more jealous. Both of them had, as many of my friends do, mothers that doted on them (even though poor William lost his mother so tragically.
A few years ago, I was in Denver for the Democratic National Convention when I witnessed a revolution taking place. Not the political revolution that the rest of America heard about; no, this was a bicycle revolution.
A few years ago, I was in Denver for the Democratic National Convention when I witnessed a revolution taking place. Not the political revolution that the rest of America heard about; no, this was a bicycle revolution.
In the nine years, seven months and 24 days since Sept. 11, 2001, not too many cloudless, crystal clear blue sky days have passed in which I haven’t been reminded of that one that shone brightly in the warm, early autumn morning when I scrambled desperately along with most of my immediate family to
