by Daniel J. Travanti | Sep 9, 1993 | Essay
September 9, 1993 Daniel J....
by Daniel J. Travanti | Sep 3, 1993 | Essay
When I moved to Los Angeles in the 60’s, I liked the sight of a red barn on La Cienega Boulevard. It was a bookstore. They sold used books and new, old ones, first editions, and rare copies. I went in once and felt overwhelmed. I felt that way when I was a...
by Daniel J. Travanti | Aug 28, 1993 | Essay
Chicago Great Lakes The lake is long. Lake Michigan is only the second largest but it’s an ocean. From Lakeshore Drive, it is clean and rippled, detritus, dirty wet sand. At the water’s edge, the sand is washed. On the sidewalk there was paper and plastic, jagged...
by Daniel J. Travanti | Aug 26, 1993 | Essay
Chicago When I was a boy, movies set in Warsaw, Vienna, and Berlin made me sad. I thought I couldn’t watch them. They were dark. Those places seemed very far away. I felt I might be stuck in one of them. The lights were dim. I wanted to turn up the lights,...
by Daniel J. Travanti | Aug 23, 1993 | Essay
I suppose I ought to be flattered that some people think of me as a dapper, controlled, smooth, strong, reliable, orderly man. This new fellow is off-the-rack neat enough; volatile, rough edged, reliable, organized, but loose with not dapper diction, but a...
by Daniel J. Travanti | Apr 30, 1993 | Essay
Have you noticed that pessimists don’t get equal time? Objections don’t say casually. Oh, so you’re a pessimist? I’m not an optimist myself. So, let’s talk. No. . . they say “Ooh, you’re so pessimistic.” That’s a dismissal, you understand. To build...
