selected published articles:

It Starts with a sound, a kind of crunch. A sound bad dreams are made of. The kind that stays with you, that comes back to you for weeks. It's your helmut and your bicycle hitting the side of a truck – for chrissake a truck, which was plainly alongside of you a moment ago.
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Adventures in Caregiving  
Read Steve Slon's blog.
Each week, Slon profiles a caregiver with a fascinating story to tell.
Natural Born Griller

Barbecuing isn't just about cooking. It's about connection, family, smoke, joy, love, and the sacrament of the shared meal. Tending the fire, wearing the apron, roasting the meat and the vegetables, then divvying it all up with one's clan feels primal.
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Steamed Clams and Me
“Like to try one?” my father asked, pointing to the pile of ashy-gray shells on a white porcelain plate in front of him. Our family rarely ate at restaurants, but this Saturday afternoon, Dad had whisked us off to Lundy’s, the famous seafood place in Brooklyn’s Sheepshead Bay. I’d never eaten a steamed clam. I was eight. I was hungry, and the clams smelled like the sea. >MORE  
Saving Memories
My mother is a combination of the highly practical (never throws anything out; cuts out the bad spots on spoiled fruit and then boils the rest into a “nutritious” mush) and the exceptionally impractical (“Why doesn’t someone invent an aerial whirlpool that can gently lower airliners to the ground?”). >MORE  
My Mother’s 60th College Reunion >READ
Lessons From My Father
Theater was my father's religion, and Shakespeare's works were his Bible. When it came time to teach us a lesson, out would come Hamlet or Othello or King Lear. Using these plays as a moral compass, Dad set me up with some quite precise ideas about how a young man should behave in the world. >MORE