The living and the dead.

This may seem disjointed; that's simply the way things are. My friend Harriet, the Harriet who is very much alive, is a quilter. She sews the most beautiful quilts (and other things, too) and has the best sewing adventures to tell, stories I would share except that they are hers and not mine. I mention … Continue reading The living and the dead.

The beauty of an ordinary life.

Perhaps the real purpose of keeping a journal is for the assurance, at some later date, that one is still oneself - voice, hand, and eye as distinct as fingerprints. The years spanned are a blur, but each minute is frozen in crystalline precision. Only in time do the entries divulge what they always were: … Continue reading The beauty of an ordinary life.

A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar.

Some days involve dog vomit. Now, I know what you're thinking: "I don't have dogs. My days never involve dog vomit." But everyone has dog vomit days, I promise, even you people who don't have dogs. Flat tires, fallen trees, freezers that go on unannounced strike and leave behind a mess of melted gelato. Dog … Continue reading A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar.

Starting over.

She's a Savannah girl, transported to Memphis to follow her true love. They met at Duke, years ago. Later they would tell different stories about their early romance, but the common narrative was that they married other people, had families, lived lives apart and then rediscovered one another, each newly single, during a reunion weekend. … Continue reading Starting over.