Here is how I remember the scene. My nine-year old daughter has fashioned a muslin prairie bonnet, the kind Laura Ingalls Wilder would have worn. She will dress as a pioneer for the school Thanksgiving program, where teachers will showcase costumed students for adoring parents and extended family. “Look mom!” she says, modeling the bonnet. … Continue reading On Misremembering
"Why Russia?" was the question frequently asked when we announced our upcoming trip. Because it is a very old country; Because John loves Russian literature; Because it is our 30th anniversary, and we want to do something amazing. Safety? No worries. We’ll be going on a cruise. Three meals a day, interpreters, a soft bed with … Continue reading Moscow Underground
Mind the Gap
Live Free and Laugh
I have always considered myself an optimist. So, I had tired of my young daughter’s daily complaints each afternoon when she climbed into the back seat of the car after a grueling day of 3rd grade. Before she could describe the unpleasantry of playground politics, I instructed her to tell me one good thing. “The … Continue reading Live Free and Laugh
A Welcome Eulogy
Dear Reader, Once again, we've survived that time of year when we are to relax and enjoy life, loved ones, and humanity in general, while squeezing into the doors of overcrowded big box stores. One tradition, sometimes mocked, is the annual Christmas (aka holiday) letter. I'm a big advocate of the well written holiday letter. … Continue reading A Welcome Eulogy
Well-behaved Bunnies Rarely Make Literature.
“She’s going to be a great adult.” This nugget of wisdom, offered by my daughter’s 4th grade teacher during a school conference, was a comfort. Few teachers had recognized the diamond within my daughter’s core. Liz was not sweetly compliant, as most girls seem to be. She “questioned authority” before it became a bumper sticker. … Continue reading Well-behaved Bunnies Rarely Make Literature.
Start with the Squirrels.
“The oldest human longing is self-revelation” Zora Neale Hurston, novelist and ethnographer Lately, I have been thinking about the memoir my father never wrote. I see him in his beige leather recliner, legal pad in lap, poised to scribe a remarkable life: from Depression era chicken farm to college, to a tuberculosis sanitarium, and … Continue reading Start with the Squirrels.