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Here I find myself mourning not only the woman, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, but the principles of democracy and a vision of the United States that she embodied and fought for, and which now seem in dire peril. However, the second mourning is not correct. Her replacement on the Supreme Court is not yet delivered, the election is not yet decided, our future is not yet sealed and doomed. We do not mourn our democracy and value

September 17, 2020  My wife and teenage son make fun of me for calling attention to ex-Howard Johnson’s when I see them. One such entity lies peacefully under an assumed name in West Boylston, Massachusetts, which is the town next to ours. We pass by it all the time, and so I have to restrain myself from making my typical announcement because my listeners have heard it too often. For the unaware, Howard Johnson’s was

After its release in 1969, the song “Fortunate Son,” written by John Fogerty and sung by Creedence Clearwater Revival, quickly became an anthem of the protest movement against the Vietnam War. Today, it is a fixture in the rock-and-roll canon. If you can’t hear the chorus in your head either right now or when you read the next paragraph, that means your taste in radio listening never ventured beyond either NPR or Cou

August 24th, 2020 Interstate 84, eastbound across Connecticut, family car trip. The three-year-old peers into the traffic in search of pick-up trucks while his three elders play a word game, subject is foods and beverages. “Orange, E.” I pass a brown, beat-up Pontiac convertible, circa mid 1970s, its driver a balding old dude with his shirt off. His remaining head hair is tied in a pony tail that’s flapping in the fr

Here is a wonderful review from Janey Robertson of my novel, Fergus Falls. Her website, wordsfromjaney.com, is temporarily offline, so she has graciously allowed its publication here. –JB. Fergus Falls is a brilliant debut novel from author Joseph Berman. The title refers to an imagined version of a real city in rural Minnesota, but the setting is hardly indicative of what the novel has to offer. Berman’s Fergu

NOW THAT the Covid-19 epidemic is withering and waning––yup, it’s almost yesterday’s news, suitable for lining the bird cage––we can all safely and happily return to our favorite public activities, such as restaurant dining and bar hopping, NASCAR races and indoor flea-markets, and of course, those wonderful political rallies in support of the greatest… Huh? What’s that you say?….Nah, that can’t be right. You’v

Let us now examine the life of the German singer and entertainer Gottlieb Wendehals, who was the invention of a real person with a much less interesting name. Wikipedia describes Gottlieb Wendehals as an “art figure”, which strikes me as generous. The character sports a black-and-white checked jacket with matching spats, pink shirt and bow tie and thick eyeglasses, and he sings like your wife’s drunk uncle at the fam

READERS might expect Fergus Falls to offer charming, heartwarming tales from the title outpost, a town turned city on the Minnesota prairie, and the self-proclaimed Mushroom Capital of America. ALAS… …long-time mayor Francis Mingalone suffers from vivid hallucinations, real-estate tycoon José Hosea kidnaps innocent tourists, and Moira, the bad artist, inflicts her suspect talent on anyone, on any occasion

I am sequestered in my office during the workday, and I need to negotiate with my wife if I want to exit for, say, a snack in the kitchen, or a trip outside to breathe a little air. Why? Because I am under surveillance by—and highly susceptible to the whims of—the 2-year old. The boy likes his Dad, perhaps a little too much. When I am around, he wants my undivided attention for piggy back rides, playing with toy cars