We’ve been inundated with stories about the dearth of jobs for the class of 2009.

I can’t remember a time in my life when the Kennedy’s weren’t part of the national imagination. I stuffed envelopes for JFK’s presidential candidacy at the Concourse Plaza Hotel in the Bronx.

In 1979, I was deep into my doctoral dissertation, writing about the cultural roots of social and political movements in early 1900s Germany.

Sweet Dreams my Ollie my precious little boy
Sweet Dreams to our love and 17 years of joy

Sweet Dreams to our many wonderful walks
Sweet Dreams to our private and tender talks

I recently had the pleasure of watching my son do 30 minutes of stand-up comedy at an East Village club.

Hillary Clinton was interviewed in Sunday's New York Times. The subject of this article was "A New Gender Agenda".

 I’m headed to the beach with friends next week for an end-of-the-summer blow-out. And it’s a safe bet that while I’m there that someone at some point will produce a joint.

First of all, I must say at the outset that I didn’t attend Woodstock in the summer of ’69.

When Amy Ferris hit menopause at age 50—or, better to say, menopause, hit her—she suffered no night sweats, no crankiness. But she did suffer insomnia.