life Archives - Sleeping on the Edge

The Sweetest Addition

I always said I didn’t want to get a dog until we lived in a house. I said that having a dog in our two-bedroom apartment already overrun by our two human children was unreasonable. It would be too cramped, too difficult, too inconvenient. My wife agreed – at least verbally – but I’m skeptical if she actually meant it. Even if a verbal contract is binding in the State of New York, I wonder if she always knew we would end up getting a dog sooner than I had suggested.

Then, in March of 2020, our lives turned upside down when COVID hit.

The pandemic forced our children to stay home from school, away from their friends and any other in-person interactions. My wife and I could see our children’s moods changing. Their irritability grew and their anxiety skyrocketed. Our daughter threw tantrums and screamed whenever we tried to encourage her to participate in her class sessions on Zoom. Our son argued when we reviewed his schoolwork and voiced his displeasure at only having weekly contact with his class.

We agreed that a dog would be a wonderful distraction for our family from the tensions of the outside world. If our kids could focus on caring for a new furry family member, perhaps they could forget about being terrified to leave the apartment and interact with the outside world. My wife applied to every pet adoption agency in the city in the hopes that one might land a match. Continue reading “The Sweetest Addition”

7:00 PM

It had been a long two weeks, to say the least.

My day at work on that first Monday was bizarre, from the eerie tension on the subway ride, to the general staff meeting we held on the sidewalk outside the nearby church, to the renewed tension on the ride back home. I spent the rest of the week “working from home,” while also trying to entertain two children who suddenly weren’t able to attend school in person. T was still at work, preparing with the other New York City teachers to spend the next months teaching remotely. We were all home together for that second week. We navigated work and school schedules, limited living space and the circumstances that the pandemic thrusted upon us.

When Friday evening finally arrived, we ate Shabbat dinner together. We sang Shalom Aleichem and chanted the blessings that welcomed in the sorely needed weekly Day of Rest. The kids talked about their online class sessions and asked if school would look the same way next week. T and I did our best to reassure them – and ourselves, honestly – of the most important things: that everything was going to be fine and that we were safe. Whatever happened next, we would figure it out together.

When we had finished eating, the four of us went up to the roof of our apartment building. It was a warm evening, though not unseasonably so, considering it was late March. We admired the blend of watercolors that had begun spreading across the sky and the pleasant start to the weekend.

That was when I heard it. Continue reading “7:00 PM”

Navigating the Space Between

I was a high school junior by the time I started to really appreciate quality literature and wordplay. It was around that time that I discovered ESPN’s quirky Sportscenter anchors. Rich Eisen, Kenny Mayne, Dan Patrick and John Anderson, just to name a few, were gifts to a teenage boy looking for a way to combine loves of sports, humor and good writing. Chris Berman, in addition to being one of the original ESPN anchors, was larger than life in both his energy on set and his physical size. When many of his colleagues were using catchphrases to liven up their highlights, Berman found his niche by making popular culture references using athletes’ names during his narration.

I loved every minute of it.

The Chicago Bears didn’t produce too many highlights during my high school years; at least, not the kinds of highlights for which they would have been proud. They finished last in their division every season that I was in high school (1997-2000); their best record in that stretch was in 1999, when they went 6-10. Their defense was mediocre and their offense was even worse, largely due to the quality of their quarterbacks. Erik Kramer was in his mid-30s in ’97 and ’98 and at the end of his career. The next two seasons featured the combinations of colossal-draft-bust Cade McNown, the talented-in-college-but-inconsistent-pro Shane Matthews and the serviceable-but-hardly-a-world-beater Jim Miller.

Matthews might not have set the NFL world on fire but he had a few moments in the sun. More importantly, he had a name that rhymed almost exactly with one of the most popular bands of the ’90s and Chris Berman knew it. I can still hear Berman cheering his way through the highlight, describing the Bears scoring play that never came frequently enough.

“The Shane Matthews Band finds The Space Between for the touchdown!” Continue reading “Navigating the Space Between”

Choosing the Right Path

The room had become silent.

The only previous sound, Molly’s doctor’s soft and comforting tone, had disappeared when the doctor exited the room. The physician had given a short soliloquy about choices, personal decisions and living with dignity. The doctor had been kind; she had a warm smile and seemed to have a genuine interest in Molly’s well-being. But she finished speaking, rose slowly from her chair and left Molly alone with her thoughts and the faint breeze of the air conditioning vent.

And the three small pills on the table. Continue reading “Choosing the Right Path”

Lines

The lines sit, seemingly idle between sidewalk panels, floor tiles and adjacent cubicles. They pass through the sights of passersby and disappear from view, constantly present but barely registering in the busy minds of commuters, shoppers and frazzled parents trying to keep up with frustrated toddlers.

The lines create definition. They yield shapes through their intersection, giving life to triangles, parallelograms and dodecahedrons and providing purpose to Pythagoras and Euclid and Mrs. Lambert in seventh grade math.

The lines are dichotomous, simultaneously uniform and opposite. They point out barriers, the ends of the road, the final destinations and signs that read “Do Not Enter.” All the while, they also show us the way forward, leading us to detours over, around and through, lighting the way to the nearest exits or the means to our ends. They separate spouses and connect lovers; they give power to our worst impulses and make us laugh in spite of our sadness. Continue reading “Lines”

Fading Memories

This post was written by my wife, T Turk.

My birthday has always been a day of mixed emotions. If you’ve been following Aaron’s blog for some time, you know that I am adopted. Being adopted means that I end up having conflicting feelings about my birthday. It has always been a great day where my loved ones celebrate me and, come on, who doesn’t love that? As a child, I would wake up on my birthday morning to a house filled with balloons and neatly wrapped presents stacked against the fireplace. I would get an early morning birthday phone call from my Papa (my mom’s dad), a fun-filled day packed with activities, a birthday dinner with friends and family and, to top it all off, I would get a giant chocolate cake filled with chocolate pudding, fresh whipped cream and strawberries (and in more recent years a Brooklyn Blackout Cake). Continue reading “Fading Memories”

Silencing the Inner Voices

I pushed the door open and grimaced.

The air was heavy, thick with humidity and frustration. Tiny beads of sweat formed quickly on my shoulder blades as I walked and assimilated into my undershirt, making the cotton threads stick to my skin. The droplets that started to fall from the sky felt almost refreshing as I trudged up the hill toward the subway, though not quite enough to cool the atmospheric sauna or the exasperation of a work appointment gone awry.

I jogged across the boulevard, beating the changing traffic light and rushing to get into the subway station before the rain became too severe. I had known it was supposed to rain but, of course, I’d left my umbrella at home. I ducked under the awnings in front of the supermarkets, dodging around the other passersby who had similar ideas about staying dry. I turned the corner, slowed my pace so as not to slip going down the stairs, and made my way to the platform. Continue reading “Silencing the Inner Voices”

Isolation in a City Full of Life

The streets were crowded, but not unbearably so. Families of tourists walked slowly, single-file along the San Antonio Riverwalk, keeping their children closer to the wall to prevent an accidental swimming lesson. Groups of teenagers shouted, laughed and cursed at various passersby, enjoying the oyster that was their world on a Saturday evening.

I assumed my identity as a tourist was fairly obvious; I was a lone, white man, dressed in khakis and a blue and white striped button-down shirt, carrying a plastic bag from a souvenir store. I figured people looked at me and thought to themselves, “Oh, he’s not from around here.” I didn’t speak to anyone, aside from the tired high school junior at the store who sold me the books for my children, but no one tried to engage me in conversation either.

Which was just fine with me. Continue reading “Isolation in a City Full of Life”

How to Be a Man in Scary Times

It’s a scary time, he says.

He stands at the microphone, a preacher in front of his congregation, a cold, defiant smile on his face. He gesticulates as he speaks, waving to the masses and shaking his fist in the air to emphasize his point. His forehead glistens slightly, though it’s hard for me to tell if the sheen is a result of tiny beads of sweat from the spotlights or the oils from a low-quality spray tan. The crowd cheers in response, drinking in his charisma as if it has been forty years in the desert and he is the land of milk and honey.

I’d rather stay thirsty, I can’t help thinking. Continue reading “How to Be a Man in Scary Times”

Tag: life