The film begins with the screen black. A man’s voice declares, “I believe in America!” His Italian accent tells us he’s an immigrant. The camera then reveals him in closeup—mustache and suit as black as the background in which he seems suspended. A humble if successful undertaker, he pleads with someone we cannot see: His…

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Yesterday, Carolyn, Seth and I (Yosi is in Virginia) celebrated Thanksgiving at Aaron and Jeremy’s house. Food? The usual plenty. Although forgive me for using the word usual. I’m grateful for my good fortune, which happens to include lots of “little” things. Here are three. Thank you cable TV and content providers like Netflix and…

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Last Saturday morning I saw a man and a woman lying face down on the sidewalk. My first thought was, “Are they dead?” But I saw no blood. Moreover, they had a pad beneath them. A sleeping bag covered the woman. The man’s leg twitched. Homeless, they perhaps preferred the sidewalk to the damp of…

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In Fiddler on the Roof, Tevye the milkman in Anatevka declares, “It’s no shame to be poor. But it’s no great honor, either.” In America, however, poverty often is viewed as shameful. And poor or rich, so is growing older. The old—however you define them/us—are made irrelevant. Popular culture offers many examples. Of late, three…

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