Dear Woman Sitting Next to Me on the Train,

You, yes, You, are a good person.

For starters you buy printed newspapers still.  And not like the Boston Globe in print but your local town paper.  In print. Do you know how cool that is? Supporting local companies is a clutch move.  And beyond just buying these newspapers, you interact with them.  I’ve seen you tear out coupons, finished a sudoku, and diligently read the paper from start to finish.  This seems to be a ritual of yours. 

And I totally approve.

Then you did something that floored me.  You got up, found your purse, and then you took one step towards the dining car before turning back and saying:

Do you want a coffee?

You’ve never met me.  We’ve exchanged small pleasantries but otherwise we’ve sat in our respective silences.  Yet, regardless, you offered to buy me a coffee.  

Before today, I didn’t know that good people like you existed.  You are the stuff of legends.  A mystical mermaid, if you will.

So thank you for the coffee.  I hope you enjoy your paper.

With warm regards,


Dear Robert,

It’s nearly a year since I ended things between us.

It’s nearly a year since that time I called out of work so I could spend the day in your room watching Dr. Who and fooling around and reading in bed next to you.

Part of me is thankful for what we had and for the closest thing I had to love in my life at that time.  Part of me hates you for those metaphorical scars that I still bear from our relationship.  Part of me wishes I knew how to stick things out.

If I didn’t have an innate desire to flee after something bad happens, I’m almost certain we would have gotten back in touch.  We’d be friends now.  Maybe those metaphorical scars would have faded faster.  Or maybe I’d still have a hard time looking you in the eye.  Most likely the latter.

When we broke up, we sat in the park next to my office and you told me that what we had was good.  And that I was afraid.  You were right, I was afraid but not of our relationship.  I was afraid of how reckless our relationship made me.

Sometimes I look you up on Facebook.  I try to see if you’ve found a new girl to see plays with on hot summer evenings.  I look to see if you’re happy.  I don’t know why I do this.  I’m in a relationship with a man who I love in a way that I understand and I have no business looking at your page.  Perhaps I’m hoping that everything works out for a reason.  Or I’m looking for a happy photo of you so I feel validated in being happy now.

You probably don’t read this blog anymore but I wanted to put this out there for you to see.  Our relationship was both good and bad for me and I don’t regret a single day of it.  I hope you are happy and content with your life, now and always.

Your friend,


Dear New York Public Radio,

Many of you reading this don’t know me and, chances are, I don’t know you.  I never took that initiative to really seek people out and create relationships outside of my department.  Someone who left as I was starting wrote in his goodbye email that new employees should make a point of introducing themselves in the elevator to the people they don’t know.  That’s not really how I roll.  But, even if we haven’t been formally introduced, I feel like I know you all through the outstanding work and programming that makes me feel passionate about the work that I have done.  It was your work that made all of my late nights and endless envelope stuffing seem worthwhile.  So thank you for the amazing content you create!

Now for the mushy bits.

Thank you to the Development Team.  I have never worked in a place where I’ve felt comfortable interacting with so many of my co-workers.  There were endless jokes, endless smiles, and endless puzzles to complete. My co-workers taught me how to do just about everything so I could be a functioning employee during the transition Patrons has gone through this year. Without you all, I’d never have been able to get through this year with as few scrapes as I did.

It’s proof of a good and caring team when people are willing to put aside their daily tasks and projects to lend a hand.  In fact, this is just proof of how great you all are as humans – separate of the department, you are all the kind of people I’d like to enjoy a beer with. You’re good peeps, as the kids (those Millennials) say.

The skills I’ve learned are invaluable.  I came in thinking this job would be cake and I’m so happy I was wrong.  NYPR is a crazy world.  Above all, I’m glad that I was never coddled and that excellence was always expected of me – anything else and I would not have the confidence and skills to move forward with my career now.

So this is it, the big moment.

The final farewell.  I’ve been joking about my count down to the last day of work with some of you but, really, I’ve been dreading it.  I hate goodbyes.  Especially goodbyes to people I have truly come to enjoy and respect.  But you’ve got to do it sometimes.  So here it goes:

Goodbye New York Public Radio!

Your friend,


P.S. If you’re ever in Boston, I hope you’ll get in touch!

Dear Man with Lady Problems,

Listen, I just want to start this off by saying that everyone’s romantic endeavors are unique.  There are probably parts of your story that I don’t know and don’t venture to guess.

God, I hope there is more to your story.

From what I heard between the Prospect Avenue and 96th Street stops, you are having some serious “female” problems.  And I discerned that there were upwards to three different women with whom you have relations – perhaps this is the heart of the problem?

As I was listening, I started to hope that maybe all these ladies were aware of each other, that they were open to this polyamorous relationship.  For all I knew, you were such a stud that all the ladies were willing to share you.

You dashed my hopes and dreams for you though when you started your next sentence with:

And then she found out about the other female…

Dude, stop referring to your girlfriends as females.

Perhaps you don’t get that women get invested in the men they are dating.  You are not simply a sex piece (though you probably think yourself to be a Sex God and I’m sure you are with all the practice it seems you’re getting).  In fact, sex is only a small part of it, these women wanted a companion who would face the world with them.  Someone who would have their back everyday.

And you rolled up and made promises that you had no intention of keeping and wonder now why they are so upset when they realize you’ve dashed their dreams? Dude, I feel like you didn’t need a woman’s insight for this…

Wait, did I just hear you correctly?

If I were a king, I could have as many woman as possible in the hopes of getting a son.

So, you wanted a harem? Guy, you aren’t a king, you don’t need a son to guarantee your happiness and it doesn’t seem like you’re ready to father a child.

Also, have you seen Game of Thrones? Everyone knows that a king who has a son out of wedlock only gets partial claim to his kingdom.  Ask Ramsay Bolton or Jon Snow about that one…

I’m sorry you are having lady problems but it seems self inflicted to me.  Stop being a man-whore; be truthful to the woman your with (note that this is singular); and treat her with respect.

Problem solved.

Best of luck with your romantic endeavors,


Dear Post Traumatic Super Delightful,

When I got Sam Garcia’s Facebook message asking me to join your crew as a stage manager- I was reluctant.

I mean, I’m not a big clown person.  And your show has a clown.

And I was in stage manager retirement.  I’d hung up my binders and highlighters and stopped constantly keeping an eye on the clock. I was enjoying a lavish lifestyle where I didn’t have to keep track of other people’s whereabouts or anticipate anyone’s needs – it was nice.

But, Sam’s a good friend so I clicked on the link she sent me and took a look at what you had to offer – to see if it was worth coming out of retirement for you. At first I wasn’t sold – clowns, man, clowns – but then I read the bios of your crew:

“is based in Jersey City with her super hot boyfriend and her Netflix account”

“She lives in Harlem with her snapback collection.”

“She is allergy-ridden, obsessed with golden retrievers, and cannot go a single day without an IPA.”

Needless to say, I was hooked.  These ladies were so true to themselves that even their bios managed to sound cool.  I don’t know if you’ve read other bios but they don’t tend to be cool – they tend to be a wee-bit braggy.  I delved into your resources page and your about page.  I tore through the entirety of your website and then moved onto Facebook.  By the time I had finished stalking every last person in your crew on every social media platform out there, I was sold: I was coming out of retirement for you, Post Traumatic Super Delightful.

In the three weeks I have worked with your crew, this beautiful sisterhood under the superior direction of Angela Dumlao and beautiful performing by Antonia Lassar, I’ve learned so much. I’ve learned that you can laugh at a traumatic experience.  I’ve learned that you can also cry. I’ve learned that when the message is strong enough, people will listen and, even more importantly, they will start talking.

I hope people will come out to see you in the Frigid Festival. There are so many options for times and days to see the shows, there really is no excuse for people not coming out to see you.

I’m so happy that I came out of retirement for you.  You are a show that is worthy of all praise and I’ll always be thankful to have had the chance to work with such inspiring women.  Thank you for this opportunity.

Break a leg,