By Ted Furlow

 The applause died down and the curtain closed, but I just sat staring. My wife tugged at my sleeve and urged me to “get a move on.” She wanted to go backstage to see our daughter-in-law and congratulate her on the successful recital of her dance school, but my mind was on the last act.

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By Ted Furlow

 “The evil men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.” 

 So says Marc Anthony in Act 3 of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. He could well have been speaking about American society, and our compulsive need to know and to remember the negative ordinary things about ordinary people – including ourselves. 

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By Ted Furlow

 On Saturday mornings I like to read a column in the LA Times. Years ago the author had written about a woman whom she had befriended, a woman who was abused by an ex-con boyfriend, addicted to drugs, and had lost her children to the system. It was an “up by your boot straps” kind of a story, and the writer had been alerted to it by a female public defender representing the woman in family court. 

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