I had never attempted to fix my daughter’s hair because I had no idea where to begin. But a class taught me real men can braid.
We were once connected to each other. We were die-hard, “never leave the city” New Yorkers. But they are slowly going away, replaced by another froyo shop.
I recall a time when I could eat things out in the open, when I had no fear of reprisals or meltdowns. Now the food mafia is after me.