ESSAY: Mourning in America

ESSAY: Mourning in America

By Tom Robotham When Donald Trump ran for president in 2016, I disagreed with many friends who thought there was no way he could win. The book I mentioned in my last essay—Amusing Ourselves to Death—kept coming to mind, and Trump personified author Neil Postman’s dark...

Degrading Our Public Discourse

By Tom Robotham Kamala Harris has been subjected to a lot attacks since she became the Democratic nominee for president: She’s a communist; she’s not really Black; she’s morally suspect because she never gave birth; she laughs too much.  They’re all so idiotic that...

Bodies in Motion

By Tom Robotham Over the years, I’ve written a lot about my love of music and the cultivation of that love, from the first piano lessons that my mother gave me at the age of 5 to my foray into the New York City jazz scene after college. Something few people know about...
ESSAY: Mourning in America

ESSAY: Born Identities

By Tom Robotham When I was growing up in Staten Island in the 1960s, kids used to ask each other, “What are you?” No further explanation was needed. Everyone knew it meant, what’s your nationality? In my neighborhood, most answered, “Italian” or “Irish”—never mind...
ESSAY: Mourning in America

ESSAY: The Summer of Our Discontent

By Tom Robotham November 5th will mark a special anniversary for me: Fifty years earlier on that date, I voted for the first time. I remember the moment vividly—and the sense of pride I felt as I closed the black curtain and flipped the lever next to the name Hugh...
ESSAY: Mourning in America

ESSAY: A Moveable Feast

By Tom Robotham The first time I visited Paris, in 1999, I was smitten. Unfortunately, due to financial and time constraints, another 17 years would pass before I was able to return. Since then, I’ve tried to make up for lost time, visiting the city every chance I...