Source: Philadelphia Stories by Bob Mcnulty One of the most well-known industrial accidents in the nation remains the 1911 Triangle...

I GREW UP in a home without books. No novels. No mysteries. No biographies. No romances. Not even Dr. Seuss. No one read to me before...

IT STARTED SLOWLY. Both the curious behavior and my ability to accept the reality of what was happening. First, there was the packing....

SO THIS WAS THE LAST OF IT – a sorry-looking box, way on the other side of the long, hot, cramped attic floor and I thought, ”Ugh! I’m...

I KNEW MY MOTHER-IN-LAW had finally lost it when she turned to me in mid-bite during dinner one evening and said: “You know, you’re a...

THE FIRST TIME I heard “She Loves You,” I was sitting in the back seat of my parents’ Rambler American as they stopped for gas, listening...

MY FATHER had a gun. One handgun. A German Luger. A souvenir from WWII. We never talked about it. My dad didn’t say much about the war....

I JUST RECEIVED another letter from Billy in Hurst, Texas. He used to write from nearby Euless, but it looks like he’s moved his...

THE WOMAN'S SCREAMS penetrated the waiting room door, a tsunami of unbridled anguish so startling that even fish in the aquarium scurried...

PALM SUNDAY always takes me back to the memory of a tiny house on a impossibly-narrow one-way street in South Philadelphia where my...

AS VLADIMI'R PUTIN'S mad-cow assault slogs on in Ukraine without a plausible endgame in sight, the eventual possibility of a "nuclear...

It was the summer of 1956. July. I was 5 years old. We had just moved out of South Philadelphia into a new home in Maple Shade, New...

Class act. Classic '60s.

I WROTE MY FIRST PLAY in high school. The subject matter is hazy, these many years later. I don't even recall the title -- only that it...