Not an uncommon winter tale. It goes different ways but always starts the same: Two men, friends since childhood, still young and strong, lose their way in a snowstorm that they believed they could out-ski. Night falls; they don’t return to...
When Marg lived in the house, there was a whole other house in the basement where her grandparents lived in the summer. They were from Ireland, the McCabes. They were royalty, Marg thought. That’s how she felt about them.
The summer I got engaged, I flew from San Francisco to London to see my mother. I had to remind myself during the flight that the engagement’s being a big deal didn’t make the trip a big deal, and that I should treat it like any other visit...
Melon Floyd was born out in the Salts, 1881, in the border country between Winnemucca and Susanville—before they recorded Black voices on acetate, before his knife-throwing contest with Charlie Long, before “Laughing Man Blues.” His father...
And then they started fighting about what the gravestone would say. Noam’s dad wanted “Son, something, and friend, plucked in the prime of his life.” He didn’t know what the “something” would be yet, just that there had to be three things...
The house that the three men lived in looked like any old house in the neighborhood. No carvings on the door or around the roof. No lush garden out back, just a patch of green and barely even that. The windows had all been closed and the...
The metallic desks in the administrative offices of IIT-Delhi, India’s top-ranked engineering college, hadn’t been moved since 1976; nor had their bureaucratic occupants. This created in the office an atmosphere of geopolitical resignation...
After a wretched, wakeful night, my hot head buzzing with annoyance, I sat squirming in my study waiting for Ollie to arrive. At nine he put his head in, smiling with his usual greeting, “How are we doing, Andy?”
