I have been telling my mother’s story, one that begins with her life as a Hidden Child in Belgium during the Holocaust, to living…

Last week one of the residents of the all-male sober residence where I work came into the main office, shut the door behind him and began to weep. Still a few years from thirty, he grew up in one of the toughest, whitest projects in Boston, using drugs and committing crimes since the age of 14…