One wintry day, long ago, I had the privilege of visiting with a woman I’ll call Rose. Ninety-five years old, she was recovering from a broken hip at the home of her daughter, a good…
Read More
I grieve the horrific mass shootings that occurred while I was recently out of studio. Had I been at home instead of traveling, I’d have offered you a timely word instead of material scheduled in…
Spanish-American chef José Andrés and his nonprofit World Central Kitchen have been on the ground in Ukraine and neighboring countries since war broke out on February 24. They work with partner restaurants, community kitchens, and…
Here’s a dirty little secret: Our house has a beautiful baby grand piano, and it scarcely gets played. That’s on me. I’m the lone pianist living here. Want to know why I don’t play? Read…
I’ve been out of studio this week. No worries, I’m fully recovered from last week’s kidney stone attack (thanks for your well wishes). But with Jihong’s university on spring break, we’ve headed for the hills—the Black Hills, that is, on the western side of South Dakota.
The Black Hills are in the middle of a March thaw. They still have enough snow for Jihong to ski, but the season will likely end next week.
My goodness, what an outpouring of reader responses to “Gentle Way Home,” the cento I offered last week! The feedback has prompted me to do a follow-up, especially since you, like so many others, might…
On this second day of 2022, I have to admit I’m emotionally drained. COVID is surging again. Rampaging wildfires have displaced thousands of people in Colorado. Thousands more are without power after record snowfall in…
Up here in the northern hemisphere, we’re approaching the winter solstice. Marking the start of the winter season, December 21 will be the shortest day and the longest, darkest night of the year. After the…
This week for Staying Power, I sat down to write one thing, and something totally different came out. (Surprise! Ain’t life grand?) What came out was a poem that imitates “The House That Jack Built,”…
After a long, strenuous hike, you happen upon a river. A crude raft is beached on the sandy shore. Tacked to it is a paper that reads: “Take me downstream.” The handwriting strangely resembles your own.
You don’t know who made the raft, or why they’ve left it here. You don’t know how well it’s constructed. Does it even float?
My Latest Books
