‘Parks and Recreation’ Goes to Washington -... →
The glory of sports: Why do we love them so? -... →
Girl-child walks me to the door, starts to close it behind me, stops, reverses. I look back. “Just,” she says, holding onto the handle, left hip jutting away from the door, “be careful in the rain, okay?”
Here’s the hard part. We aren’t taught how to go back. We’re taught to move...– Heading Home on the Back Roads
Me: [girl-child] loves boys.
Girl-child: no one likes boys.
Ben wished the world was organized by the Dewey decimal system. That way you’d...– Brian Selznick; Wonderstruck
When I was in grad school round one and Mary was trying to get me to break through my slick technique, she told me to start a brand new page for the truth. In the blank space, I could whisper it, unencumbered by any of the other words. If you’ve ever seen my handwriting, it’s big and loopy (and many other things that we could divert to, but today we won’t). And so my...
Over time, the ghosts of things that happened start to turn distant; once...– Tana French, Broken Harbor
Wherein I give the girl-child a kiss goodnight
Girl-child: You're spreading germs.
Me: It's worth it.
Girl-child: No it's not.
A Mole of Moles →
Man, I love the Internet.
Sometimes I think about ideological differences and what we can do to listen to and work with both our own and the other side. I try not to get sucked into “things today…” in most sectors of life because, more often than not, “things today…” are already well represented over history. Instead, today, I’m thinking about how my definitively not-feminist...
You know how they say everyone’s got a book in them? I think in...– Mary Richards
faultlines: More, More Light - On the 15th... →
Jenn’s sermon from this morning. It is a stunning look at who we were, who we are, and who we become. It’s also a brave call for us not to get into the kind of self-congratulatory liberalism that winds up in the same kind of behavior we supposedly condemn.
They are all in there and I am here, caught in my house, room by room, unable to...– Jeanette Winterson, “Disappearance II”, a short story in The World and Other Places