The temperature is soaring. In the Northeast, water tables are going crazy from all the rain we’ve had. The sun, like a malevolent eye, glows hot in a hazy sky as the world’s thermometer climbs; mercury like spinal fluid rising, rising, then bursting through our heads, our brains exploding under pressure. Humans pack the city…
Remember the Forgotten Before it’s Too Late
As this issue hits the streets many of us will be attending the Homeless Memorial Service in Boston — Dec. 21 will mark the solemn service’s 29th year. There will be other services throughout the country over the next few days. We are once again confronted with the fact that people are dying in the…
The Teeth of a Fox
For Mary Esther: “The Fox” They meet for the first time at an AA meeting. He sat in the third row, end seat close to the wall. She sat in the middle of the room, tears spilled down her face; she had a tissue crumpled in her fist and her lips quivered. He watched her.…
It’s the System, Stupid!
In 1967 Dr Martin Luther King asked a question: “Why are there 40 million poor people in America?” That question crosses my mind and the minds of every activist I have ever met, but that question stood out as I was making my way home as Boston prepared for it’s first snowstorm. I sadly watched…
Did ‘Old School Justice’ Catch Up to Whitey Bulger?
When I heard the news about James “Whitey” Bulger being savagely killed in his new prison in West Virginia, it came as no surprise. For years he ratted on the New England Mafia to increase his own crime organization’s control of the Boston area. I grew up in New Jersey and started using cough syrup…
How I Learned To Be A Racist
I grew up in a white factory town until I was 10-years-old. My father had a small grocery store in Newark, New Jersey and his customers were all black people. My parents had a term that they referred to Black people while they were in the house: Schvartzes, pronounced Schvat-Suh. They claimed not to be…
Dispatch From a Clinician
“I just need to talk to somebody,” he said, slumping into the seat across from me. He was tall and thin and wore a tattered winter jacket though it was unseasonably warm and humid outside. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his eyes were wide and tired. He looked down at…
Parting Ways at the Crossroads
There has been a sadness around me lately. As many of you know, we lost a family member, our long time vendor Fred Boykin. And as I sit here writing this column I’m thinking of his positive spirit despite all the obstacles in his way. I wish I could be more like he was, now…
Clean and Sober: Recovery After Suboxone
The opioid trail is a long difficult road. I appreciated Felice Freyer’s article in the Aug. 19 edition of the Boston Globe, which was about getting help for opioid addiction in Massachusetts. I am a person with a Substance Use Disorder in “remission.” It took me a long time to get where I am. I’m 72…
Letter From Utuado, Puerto Rico
You once said “My reward for this life will be a thousand pounds of dirt shoveled in my face.” You were wrong. You are seven pounds of ashes in a box; a Puerto Rican flag wrapped around you next to a red brick from the house in Utuado where you were born, all crammed…