by Cynthia Cone If one good thing has come from my mother’s death, I would say that in the wake of her passing I have somehow managed to find a deeper meaning to my own life. My mother and I had a very complicated yet symbiotic relationship. Being the child of an alcoholic is not…
by Cynthia Cone The problem with movements is that movements start to lose, I think quite often, sight of humanity, of human beings as individuals. – Ian Mackaye While I believe that the intended end results of certain social movements are necessary, especially in a world where evolution is constantly taking place, I also agree…
Several years ago my friend Diane handed me a book, saying, “I know you’re a fan of Henry Rollins, and I thought you might like this.” Little did she know how much I needed to read that book and I am quite sure, as dramatic as it may sound, she had no idea it would…
by Cynthia Cone When I tell people I spent two years in a New York State prison, the reaction is usually the same: disbelief. I certainly don’t “look” like a convicted felon, and I most definitely don’t carry myself like one. But the cold hard truth is, I am one. For better or worse, till…
I was 14 years old before I had my first encounter with Jesus Christ. Up to that point, I had heard enough about the basic story to get around in the world—born on Christmas, raised from the dead on Easter, and the whole “Born of a Virgin” thing. But I never had to deal with…
“Going through the town of Lindenhurst was like entering what I imagine a war zone would look like. There was debris blown everywhere, the National Guard stood in clusters and a huge sign flashed, “Curfew In Effect Dusk Till Dawn.” by Cynthia Cone The Monday night that Superstorm Sandy made landfall, we lost power around…
the chaos section 