Burnt Chocolate Stories

“The last good night's sleep you’ll have is the night before your first child is born.” I laughed at the woman who told me that. I was eight months pregnant at the time with our first child and thought she was daft. What did she know anyway? Her three boys were teenagers. One had just gotten his driver’s license. Of course she was freaked. When her youngest left for college, I was certain she’d sleep soundly once again. However, my plan to confirm that belief never materialized. We moved back to Chicago and lost touch with each other. Besides, if we had stayed connected, she'd have had the last laugh on me. I haven’t had a really solid, devil may care, snooze until 11 in the morning sleep for the last forty years. Any hope of regaining such a night was abandoned long ago. “Before I had children, no one told me how completely absorbed I’d become in my children’s lives,” a friend told me as we talked about our children, past dreams and unrealized expectations. “You’re only as...

Some days. . . Black clouds swarm above my head. The weight of ALS bears down with a force so huge it takes my breath away. I have to wrench myself free, force myself to do something, anything, that will let in the fresh air. I’ve become difficult, I know, when I’m terrified and want only to stay in bed, under the covers and sleep forever. But on other days. . . I let optimism rule. I believe we will overcome these terrible circumstances. I project into the future and imagine Ben physically vibrant the way he was years ago when I drove him to the airport for his third year as a college exchange student in Paris, France. He hoisted a huge duffel over his shoulder as if it weighed a few pounds, kissed my cheek and was gone. When we visited him four months later, he’d already made dozens of friends who called out ‘Binyamin’ as they waved him into their lives. Ben lived in an apartment, a boat, then someone’s loft, while he studied Decontructionism, a difficult philosophy to compre...

My Dad, Ben Sokolec, Spring 1980 At a French coffee shop for breakfast during a recent trip to New York, Steve and I sat across from a father and his ten year old son. The dad ate his omelet while working his Blackberry. The boy concentrated on his laptop game while he nibbled a slice of toast. Neither spoke. The check came, the father paid and they left. The boy held the laptop open, still working the keys as they climbed into the car. For many years, my Dad sold wholesale meat to local butcher shops and spent more time than he cared to at the stockyards. His days began at 3 in the morning and by two in the afternoon, his workday ended. In the warm weather, he’d play a round of golf and by the time I got home from school, he’d be napping on the sofa, listening to the radio. I’d nestle alongside him in what I remember as a safety zone. We didn’t say much, but the connection was there. He’d ask about my day, my friends. Mostly we’d just listen to an afternoon baseball game or the...

Want a little magic in your life? Try Reiki (pronounced ray-key). Until last week, I knew very little about this healing system, other than it existed. Then my sister, Sandy Wallman, attended a workshop and came back raving about the experience. I had to try it for myself and am very glad I did. Reiki emerged from the Tibetan culture more than 2500 years ago. This ancient healing technique was discovered by Dr. Mikao Usui at the end of the nineteenth century and has been passed down to many Reiki Masters, one of whom is Bernadette Doran, who lives in Chicago and offers workshops and trainings in her home. In just a few hours, she transformed me from a skeptic to an enthusiast. But what is it? A physical, mental, spiritual and emotional healing system that channels energy, bringing with it balance and harmony. Every living thing, including plants and animals, contains its own personal energy. Once a person is attuned by a Reiki Master, the energy flow from the cosmos increases and...