Thirty years ago, David Leavitt first appeared on the literary scene with a gutsy story collection that stunned readers and reviewers. Just twenty-three, he was hailed as a prodigy of sorts: “remarkably gifted” (The Washington Post), with “a genius for empathy” (The New York Times Book Review) and “a knowledge of others' lives . . . that a writer twice his age might envy” (USA Today). “Regardless of age,” wrote the New York Times, “few writers so effortlessly achieve the sense of maturity and earned compassion so evident in these pages.” In “Territory,” a well-intentioned, liberal mother, presiding over her local Parents of Lesbians and Gays chapter, finds her acceptance of her son's sexuality shaken when he arrives home with a lover. In the title story, a family extended through divorce and remarriage dances together at the end of a summer party-in the recognition that they are still bound by the very forces that split them apart. Tender and funny, these stories reveal the intricacies and subtleties of the dances in which we all engage.

Dancing in a Wheelchair is the story of one family's journey with HIV/AIDS. The authors lost two of their three sons to AIDS. It is a human story, a spiritual story, and a story that puts faces on statistics and that shares events that reveal our humanity and our vulnerability. Each parent tells his or her story in alternating, first-person paragraphs. The authors hope that their openness will help others learn, grow, change, and care.

Dancing with the Family presents something of a clinical importance, not to offer an all-encompassing theory of the family therapy. This book emphasize on a dual focus. You will be asked to remain cognizant of the centrality of the person of the therapist, as well as of the evolving process of the therapy.

"Poignant memoir of a not-so-typical New York Jewish family’s experiences in the midcentury Hollywood demimonde ... Equal parts emotional tissue-party and shrewd cultural history." - Kirkus Reviews In 1958, young Sheila Weller was living a charmed life with her family in Beverly Hills. Her father was a brilliant brain surgeon. Her mother was a movie-magazine writer whose brother owned Hollywood's most dazzling nightclub, Ciro's. Then her world exploded after she witnessed her uncle's brutal attempt to kill her father. In Dancing at Ciro's, Weller has written a deeply felt memoir of her family's life contrasted with those most glamorous days of Hollywood's forties and fifties. While vividly describing Lana Turner's, Frank Sinatra's, and Sammy Davis Jr.'s evenings--and breakdowns--at Ciro's, Weller casts a keen eye on her own family's turmoil and loss.

Samuel Johnson was born in Massachusetts in 1792. He married Charlotte Abigail Howe and they had seven children. Biographical sketches of Samuel and Charlotte and their descendants, as well as records of their ancestry is given in this volume. Descendants continue to be leaders of their communities and live in Massachusetts, and elsewhere.

This acclaimed graphic memoir that Kirkus calls “cathartic and uplifting” is the tale of losing a parent and what it feels like to grieve and to move forward. “I can’t recommend this kind, funny, and poignant memoir enough. It’s an intimate, life-affirming story of resilience that feels like a good friend.” —Mari Andrew, author of Am I There Yet? Tyler Feder had just white-knuckled her way through her first year of college when her super cool mom was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. Now, with a decade of grief and nervous laughter under her belt, Tyler shares the story of that gut-wrenching, heart-pounding, extremely awkward time in her life—from her mom’s first oncology appointment to her funeral through the beginning of facing reality as a motherless daughter. She shares the sting of loss that never goes away, the uncomfortable post-death firsts, and the deep-down, hard-to-talk-about feelings of the grieving process. Dancing at the Pity Party is a frank and refreshingly funny look at what it’s like to grieve—for anyone struggling with loss who just wants someone to get it.