Skip to main content

I Bury Your Backpack at My Wounded Knee

Backpacks have a place: wide open spaces with trails for hiking; mountainsides where men and women have climbed to great heights; a handy small travel bag when going to grandma’s house for the holidays. I’m all for that. I don’t like to wear them myself, the wear and tear on my shoulders and back make them seem more like torture chambers to me, but I understand if you find them to be comfortable.

Backpacks do not have a place on the busy sidewalks of New York. They do not belong on rush hour transportation. I know, I know. You love your backpack. You love the convenience of carrying your burden on your shoulders and keeping your hands free to shop and text.  

What you have forgotten is that the svelte picture you have nestled away in your brain of how good you looked when you left the house couldn’t be further from the truth!

Your girth has doubled.

Even worse, you are completely unaware as you zip through crowds leaving crying children in your wake as your bag meets their faces. What about the old man nearly knocked off his walker as you slip in and out of the crowd as though you were the thin person you are without the offending backpack?

Today a young man, with the need to be ahead of me on the escalator, zipped around  and then landed on the step in front of me. His backpack made him the size of 2 men and he knocked me backward off my step. He didn’t even notice. How could he, protected as he was by 2 feet of padding? Luckily for those behind me on the escalator, I only fell back one step before catching myself.

If you really need to wear one of those things, put it on and then look at yourself from all angles. Try to understand that your back side has just become a weapon.


Good ideas! I have just read your article on "I Bury Your Backpack at My Wounded Knee" and found it very impressive. The article is resourceful and attractive for the readers in the highest level. I must say that I look forward to read more on this topic. Bravo!
Good ideas! I have just read your article on "I Bury Your Backpack at My Wounded Knee" and found it very impressive. The article is resourceful and attractive for the readers in the highest level. I must say that I look forward to read more on this topic. Bravo!

Popular posts from this blog


It’s not just Hollywood. It’s big business. It’s small business. It’s walking down the street. It’s all over America. It’s the President of the United States.
I’m a woman of a ‘certain age’ so I remember when sexual harassment and discrimination were not only legal, but expected. Decades ago the laws changed allowing for women to make a legal stand when they were victimized, but they didn’t. Did the abuse stop? No. The bad boys lawyered up and new ways were found to keep women in their place.
I was once an actress and singer and I can attest to the fact that the casting couch was a very real thing. I also worked in the business world for most of my life and can tell you that the abuse was just as unbridled there.
I am sure that most women have experienced some form of harassment or discrimination, we just don’t know exactly what to do about it. We whisper in hallways, hinting at wrongdoings and guiding those women coming up after us. Some men stand silent and some join in. My stor…

There Is No Superman


Semi-automatic weapons.

Automatic weapons.

Street sweepers.

A mentally ill young man was able to buy a terrible weapon of mass destruction and used it to destroy several lives this weekend.

I struggle to make sense of the recent tragic shooting in Arizona as I hear the words of self-important politicians, political pundits and shock jocks ricocheting through the airwaves like so many bullets, each one believing they can repel those missile-like words like Superman.

There is no sense to be made of it.

There is no Superman.

It is true that there will never be a gun in my house. I made that decision 37 years ago and stand by it.

You can have a gun in your house, but you are not welcome to bring it to mine.

I believe with all my heart that guns have no place at a grocery store parking lot, and challenge anyone to explain why I might be wrong.

I have no answers, and only one question:

What is the argument for owning a weapon designed to kill man?


I am in menopause.

I am at my beginning. Again, I have come of age.

We all do it. We all do it differently – hormone replacement therapy; hot flashes; loss of sex drive; increased sex drive; the tragedy of new facial hair; fear of bone loss; antidepressants – and none of us know what will come next. Very few of us share our secrets. I have spent the last few years discussing these issues with girlfriends. We have shocked and surprised each other as well as found comfort in some of our common stories.

After years of being single and keeping my eyes on nothing but my career, it was clearly time to take control of myself and my body. I had just gone through a record emotional dry spell. I felt very alone, but imagined that I was not in a place so different than other women. Women in the workplace spend years losing themselves in order to gain advancement that, even if it does come, won’t be as satisfying as they thought. It is that time in your late thirties, often through your forties, tha…