Recommended by Philip Middleton Williams

I can hear the spirit of Anton Chekhov shaking his spectral head and saying "Oh, if only I'd never said that..." But then we wouldn't have this one minute of smart, nudge-wink fun, and a truthful moment as well.

My father used to put me to bed and tell stories that I remember to this day. I remember the room, the nightlight filtering through the darkness, and the gentle voice of my father as he weaved the tales of monkeys and imagination. I don't remember when I outgrew them, but I miss them, and hearing Franky's words as he comforts his child takes me back more than sixty years to those quiet evenings, resting in the comfort of words and the faith that the voice will always be there. Through this magic moment, they still are.

This is so good because it is so true, and Tom Moran nails it so neatly, which is the way truly good satire works. And I can imagine that he's got it so close to the truth that there are those parents who swear that it's really the way it goes.

Football as a metaphor for faith in God and the battle between believing in him or not? It's not far-fetched, and it's probably not a coincidence that both going to church and watching the NFL happen on the Christian sabbath. In this morality play of plays on and off the field, Tom Moran gives us two quarterbacks who are two sides of the coin: the God-fearing and the atheist, but both human at heart and willing to put their beliefs where it matters -- in themselves.

I knew that when I first held Sam in the palm of my hand in April 1989 that we would only have him for as long as his life would allow, and I vowed that every day we would love him and hold him in our hearts. He returned that love countless times over as only he could, and when he went away, we knew he would always be in our hearts. Jacquelyn Floyd-Priskorn puts this feeling into a tribute to Brompton in a heart-felt moment of love, and we are all brought in, holding him close.

The undertones of this short piece are those of the unspoken but ironclad rules of teens and boarding school life, but are universal in all ages and situations: do not speak the truth out loud but let other ways or words make it clear. We all know this, and Vince Gatton uses the moment to show the shields and the armor-chinks in a way that rings so true for these two boys who are learning how to confront their own feelings for themselves and each other through the immortal words of Shakespeare's meter and joy.

I have learned over my lifetime that certain traditions, be they family stories or those of our faith and practice, have a deeper meaning than just following a ritual. Their origins may have been lost in the mists of time to the point that we cannot see the practical point, but now they offer a connection and a time of reflection. This short play follows a young man serving as the guardian of the soul of a deceased Jewish man, and the time he spends alone with him is revealing, comforting, and deeply touching. Thank you, David Lipschutz.

The story of two very different people being devoted friends is not a new idea, but each time it is told, it sheds a new light on it. In this setting, Sam Heyman has developed a very complex and well-told tale of Lee and Shawn that holds our attention through the peaks and valleys of youth, adolescence, the dawning of maturity, and the consequences of saying the right and wrong thing. The bond between them is tested, and each must learn why they are so bound to each other. A thoughtful and poetic play, very much worth your time.

If there is a lesson to be learned from these moments with Charlie and Wallace, it is that Scott Sickles is the master par excellence of subtext and subliminal layering. These two actors rehearsing their love scene for a film have done everything they can to convince each other and themselves that this is just acting; they're playing parts and following the instructions of the intimacy director. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and the, uh, hard truth is just beneath the surface.

I'm adding this next to Leo Rosten's "The Joys of Yiddish" in my library. There is nothing that clears the mind and the sinuses like a good rant using the most colorful and intricately descriptive language known to this goyisher altekaker. Thank you, David Lipschutz, for this topical yet timeless moment of theatre. And confirming once and for all how to spell "ferkakte."