I wonder if this is where we are going, toward a future where gender and even appearances are the last rather than the first details we notice and judge in friends and strangers.
At Last
In Manhattan last week, I was finally able to assure myself that The Silver Swan: In Search of Doris Duke, will be published next spring.
Unbearable Truth
When I came out of the Roundabout Theatre production of Arthur Miller’s play, All My Sons, I immediately faced an unbearable truth.
And It Does Go On
I am devoutly grateful for the lives of Will’s two older brothers who have mourned him with me and yet managed to go on.
Who Was Magnolia?
A short course in how a short story might be made.
The Secret Bunker
A big resort in the mountains of West Virginia, called The Greenbrier, figured often in my great-grandmother Sallie’s tales of her girlhood in Richmond.
The Double Cottonwood
I find myself involved in three groups to my great pleasure and satisfaction, this after many decades avoiding groups as a waste of time.
She Is Burning
Notre Dame has always seemed to me a dark, brooding and august female presence presiding over Paris.
Faith
Are we entering a time of converging faiths, offering hope to some, or only another giant step in the widespread agnosticism that seems at times a sure forerunner of despair?
Einstein with the Hopis
Mileva… may have contributed to her husband’s discoveries; in letters he alludes to them as “ours” although the question is unanswerable for lack of evidence.