HeyJaredRichard Goodman's Newsletter
Humor, as often as possible. Plus living in rural Louisiana. And other stuff.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 5
- Latest publication
- Sep 14, 2026
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- Jul 4, 2026
Latest issues
Good-bye to Crosby Street (opens the original)
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New York, 1979. I had broken up with my girlfriend. She’d tossed me out of the apartment in Greenwich Village—rightfully so. Oh, that’s another story, but suffice it to say that it wasn’t the first time I’d screwed things up.Had to find a new place to live. I poured through the Apts. for Rent section of the Village Voice and saw a notice for a sublet on Crosby Street in Soho. Crosby Street is—or was, anyway, when all this happened—a moody, coolly stunning street that runs from Canal Street to Ho
The Nest Builders (opens the original)
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The Carolina Wrens that live and sing around our house here in south Louisiana cheer me to no end. Their pretty singing at dawn reminds me of the gift and promise of morning.One day a few months ago, I stepped outside, and, to my left, a sudden blur flew off into the trees facing our porch. It was a Carolina Wren, perched on a low branch. It has an unmistakable contour—a little bird with, most obviously, a cocked tail.I looked at our potted plant, set on a small iron table near the door, from wh
What's gotten into our dog! (opens the original)
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Wow! She started going crazy. Had to go out. Had to! Urgent. Whining and running back and forth. I’d never seen this. I opened the front door, and out she shot, rocket. Ran to grass and began eating insanely. More, more, more! Not stopping. Like it was a grass-eating contest. “Hey!” I said. “Don’t eat that!” She paused, looked at me for a half second, then recommenced. Manon, our dog. I ordered her inside. She came in, with one look backward. That did nothing to assuage. She begged to go out aga
Jerilyn (opens the original)
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I find these words inadequate in writing about Jerilyn Caesar. This is really just a way for me to post some photographs of her so you can see how beautiful she was. Other people knew her differently than I did, and I hope they write about her to give a fuller picture of who she was. She deserves that. It’s five years to the day that she’s been gone.I was a thirty-five year-old copywriter hired by the Ally & Gargano advertising agency in 1980. This was a storied place, responsible for some of th
When I'm Sixty-Four (opens the original)
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Getting old.Living where I do, in New York City, near Columbia University, where there is a constant ebb and flow of youth, makes me think dark thoughts indeed. I start to have covetous rants in my mind, the kind you hear old men make to themselves under their breath in scary movies. Why should they be young, I think, and I be growing old? Why should they have their life ahead of them, and I have mine mostly behind me? I—I who would know how to use their youth to its fullest degree—I should have
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