Going through old sketchbooks. These days I only write out my world. Meet Anna Fox.
Years ago, Anna was my neighbor. She had a thick Polish accent and a face full of the sadness of a Jew from Poland in the era of Pogroms and then Hitler. But she had the sense of humor needed to survivor. She used to say, “God looks out for fools, widows, and orphans, and I’m all three.”
Her neighbor used to knock at her door each morning to complain about her health.
“If you’re sick, go to a doctor,” Anna told her.
“I do. My daughter is a doctor,” the neighbor said.
“Then go to a good doctor,” Anna told her.