Shelly Reuben 's Stories

My brother, Mikey, died on a beautiful day. The temperature was eighty degrees. He had borrowed his friend’s raft. It ..

After everyone else had gone home from Michael’s funeral, I stayed on with Mom, Dad and my brother Chucky, and ..

My brother, Michael Asher Reuben, was a talented, passionate, virile, handsome young man who wanted to write scripts, produce movies, ..

July 28, 1973 My dear Shelly, Why don’t you give up on New York City and come back to Chicago and Highland ..

To be a landlord is to be imprisoned in the last form of sanctioned slavery in this country. It is ..

I grew up during the bad years. Urban Renewal had come within block of my father’s buildings. New government-subsidized ..

In the early 1900’s, my grandfather, Shepsel Reuben, opened a little general store at 656 Maxwell Street in Chicago. Maxwell ..

Samuel Reuben loved Chicago. When my mother made him leave the gray stucco house at 4907 North Bernard Street, where ..

When my father wrote me these letters, I was living in Princeton, New Jersey, commuting to my job in Manhattan, ..

Question: What, exactly, was my father? Answer: He was the personification of his favorite word, which he both used and ..

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