The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
“H
ola!”
“Hola. ¿Qué tal?”
“Bien. ¿ y tu?”
“Bien.”
Paul and I were 16 years old and had taken Spanish for a year. We called each other every night on the phone and spoke to each other in...
The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
My sons recently started talking about being cool, and I recalled my own teenage years and the need to be cool. That driving desire dictated the clothes I wore, the music I listened to, and what...
The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
On June 29, 1863, a 23-year-old First Lieutenant received an unexpected promotion. The freckle-faced, strawberry blonde, who graduated at the bottom of his class at West Point, was elevated directly...
The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
“Writing is not a job; it’s a hobby!” thundered my father when I told him my plans for college. “You need to get a profession: Medicine, law, engineering, or accounting.”
I cheerlessly...
The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
The sweet strains of a Puccini aria cut through the Saturday night clatter of the busy Italian restaurant in New York City, but it wasn’t coming from the aging voice of the Sicilian baritone, who...
