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My Immigrant Parents #2

Martin arrived in this country when he was 11 years old. I have a copy of his steerage papers from Ellis Island. My older sister tells me he had his

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My Immigrant Parents

“My Dear Cucie Olga,” my father, Martin Weiss pencils in a four-page letterdated August 8, 1939 when my mother is vacationing in Mountaindale, New York with her mother and my

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Graduation in Laramie, Wyoming

Using the bathroom in an airplane requires extreme precision. But it shouldn’t be called a bathroom; it doesn’t merit the name. Large enough for a toadstool, there’s no room inside it,

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Going for the Ghazal

What do I have against dogs? They shit everywhere anytime they feel a need. My opinion: Once you get to New Delhi there’s no way it will offer the opportunities you

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Atmospheric River

Boxed in, no way out, a leaden lid snapped shut, a cloud filled with curses and blessings, demon rain flooding highways and basements, toppling trees, hills frothy with mustard grass,

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