I’m about to leave New York City in its grey rain for Newport and Rough Point, the big house on Ocean Avenue Doris inherited from her father and that seems to have been closely associated, for her, with her mother.
Do I Grieve
Do I think grief is catching, like some new variant of the pandemic?
Fireworm
Sometimes it seems to me that we are all suffering from another form of Fireworm called War, or “Imperial Infantilism,” as one commentator called it.
Getting to YES
Out of the sour ground of NO spring many hopeful sprigs, especially the generous responses to so many of my posts from you.
Something We Can All Do…
It’s a small idea. A simple idea: One day a week we don’t drive—to let the earth breathe, as a friend of mine described it.
Margaret in the Wilderness
Surrounded by disasters of every kind, we are seeing the great strengths of our extraordinary adaptability, valued and valuable as it has never been before.
Political Correctness: Carried Too Far?
Margaret raises what has always been a complex issue: should men be included in celebrations of women?
The Handmade House
I imagine the success of the Beach House was largely due to the energy of these women: Grandma on the rooftop, her three daughters, and their many daughters and nieces who enjoyed the house for three generations.
Remembering Will: March 3, 1970 – April 2017
Riding Amtrak’s Southwest Chief, the only train left that travels east and west across our country and down to New Orleans, I notice as we cross the desert in New Mexico the small forgotten places…
Give Us This Day
Now, as always, there is the question of our minor influence as women on public events, even now when our faces and voices seem to indicate our ascendancy.