The co-founders of Modern Loss have taken the plunge and transitioned from an online community to a printed book, one that is wise and funny and seeks to change the dialogue around the messy experience of grief.
“There is no better way to ensure a better future for our community, state and country than to invest in education. What we are saying is that we believe in education for all the children, not just in our town but in the district. Education has longevity”
---Stockbridge resident Sarah Horne, speaking at the Annual Town Meeting
In Roy’s hometown in Vermont, everyone knew about his tragic loss. Here in New York City, his anonymity was almost comforting. He could wear his loss invisibly for a change. This was oddly a relief.
Luba never liked the Last Hotel. For one thing, the neighborhood scared her to pieces. During the short walk from the Broadway 72nd St. subway, bums accosted her, filthy palms open. Drug addicts hanging outside buildings, passing back and forth a cigarette, women dressed like men, garbage everywhere.
He opened a large navy blue bowling bag with red letters that spelled BROOKLYN BOMBERS. Turning it over, dollar bills of all denominations flowed out of the bag, floating on to the bed like greenish butterflies.
Dr. T wins the sleaze award. The shrink, announces he is moving out of the hotel. The building manager responds: “I’d never come to a stranger, sit in an office, talk about my problems. I was in Auschwitz. This is my number.” He raised his sleeve and showed his tattoo.
Participants in “Walk the Talk” will imagine opportunities for community building and economic resiliency of the Berkshires’ own regional economy. The tour and discussion, which will be co-led by a number of community members, will help walkers consider Berkshire County's rich history of innovation, industry and commerce as a foundation for the development of a sustainable and equitable future.
Installment 26: a chance encounter in the elevator. "As Reardon stepped in, he noticed the pretty older woman from the fourth floor. He had seen her before. Dark hair and flashing eyes, her name was Rachel, he thought. He nodded to her as he walked to the back of the elevator car. She wore a short black dress and high heels."
“Crossing Central Park West, they made a striking older couple. Faye in tight black pants, a well-fitting sweater the color of her hair, and walking shoes. Pincus in a pair of new-looking blue jeans, probably his first, that Faye had bought him, of course, and his plaid jacket and muffler.”
Installment 24: Fred turned on the TV. Ronald Reagan’s smiling face. He turned the TV off. “Fascist pig,” he mumbled. His eyes fixed on the wooden box in his bookcase, filled with red sticks of dynamite.
In this, the 23rd installment of The Last Hotel, the Sofa Club consider their future, now that the Last Hotel is being sold: “I’ll miss this,” Pincus said. “Sitting on the sofa. Talking every night a little.”
Pete took a long sip as he slowly slid down the couch. “I thought it would be my Last Hotel.”
Slowly, she floated to the door, enjoying every delicious moment of anticipation. She took her time, adjusting her décolletage. “Just a moment,” she nearly sang with joy.
Amber, in Suite 52: "The only way he could stand his life was the knowledge that he would grow up and leave Andrew behind. There was a there there. And that’s where he was. He was a she in New York City."