Not long after my father died, I went to Martinique with my mother. I remember three things about that trip. My mother's grief. The profiteroles. And the topless beach. Grief, food, and nudity My mother was in a raw stage of mourning, subject to fits of literal wailing. But no one in my family was ever too upset to eat, especially dessert. And Martinique is a French island,
Getting Naked for Money
Of Chutzpah, Kickstarter, and Keeping a Low Profile
When I was growing up, my mother always implied that my sister and I should keep a low profile. We were supposed to excel in school, sure, but not to stand out because otherwise "they" would find us, even though we grew up in America, even though "they" found everyone they wanted to find in Vienna -- i.e., anyone who was even part Jewish, no matter how low a profile the