Sybil Adelman Sage

“What’s the weather?” I asked Alexa. “What difference does it make?” I expected her to answer. “You’re not going anywhere.”

My husband and I, both in our 70s, had been enjoying life before all this tragedy, so I’ve been stewing over being seen as expendable.

“Self-isolating, I’ve discovered, isn’t one of those things you master.”

I wasn’t watching a play. I was living it, reconnecting with the family members I’d lost over the last decades, crying the entire time.

“I was not opposed to going to the mikveh and actually embraced the idea of a symbolic purification that marked the end of my single days.”

“Though my mother, who’d died many years before, was frequently in my thoughts, I’d never deliberately set aside time to focus on her.”

Now that Stormy Daniels has spoken, it’s easy to see Donald Trump’s type, i.e Not Jewish.

When she got a job working for Carl Reiner, Sybil Sage worried that he might have a big ego. He turned out to be a mensch and a terrific boss.

A veteran comedy writer tries to do some end-of-life planning, all the while maintaining her sense of humor.

A bittersweet story of how a friendship began online — and ended all too soon.