for years writers would gather on Friday afternoons.  For some groups it was at Cassit, for others it was Stern, but the vast majority found their way to the cafe in the Writers’ House.  

This was in the last century, before the cafe was closed, and before the big embezzlement brought the whole organization to its knees.  Now no one who is anyone still belongs.  

Except me.  I still believe in unions and their need to be a force in the community.  

But anyway today I met a bunch of writers in the cafe next door to the writers house, and it was almost like old times – sharing ideas, stories, complaints.  I can’t wait for next week.