It\’s the ultimate fantasy: You have a seat at your own funeral. Now imagine that while hovering in limbo between your death and burial, you have the power not only to witness the preparations and critique the eulogies, but also to eavesdrop on critical moments in your past for a reality check.
They told this story at the recent Film and Television Writer\’s Conference and swore that it was true.
Jon Cohen, co-screenwriter of the noirish sci-fi thriller \”Minority Report,\” has the perfect headline for recent events in his life. \”Ordinary guy sits in room and writes Steven Spielberg-Tom Cruise flick by accident,\” he says with a laugh.
Until recently, it seemed you could find Yiddish books only in obscure libraries or in the attic of the house of someone\’s grandparents.
I owe my life\’s work to Ann Landers. And, of course, her sister, Dear Abby. Dr. Rose Franzblau. And Dr. Joyce Brothers.
There is nothing easy about telling your mom you are moving to Israel. It might have been easy two years ago, but not now.
When we were little, my brother and I realized that whenever we asked if someone was Jewish, my mother would answer by simply repeating their name, as if that said it all.
The low point of my week is reading the copy for our pages devoted to victims of Palestinian terror and violence.
Nicole Holofcener is laughing at her Caesar salad, a sparse, pathetic-looking thing she ordered with no croutons and dressing on the side.
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