Speechwriter, Creative Director, other communications stuff. Husband and dad. Proudly progressive. Brooklyn-born & bred. Sometimes funny.
For what it’s worth — and it must be worth something — we were right.
We cared about the less fortunate, even if we didn’t work hard enough to help them.
My father died of lung cancer in 1981. He was 60 years old and I was 21. Sometimes I write to him; this is my most recent letter.
January 19th, 2017