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We must love one another or die… ~ September 1, 1939 by W. H. Auden He’s an unlikely mentor for a middle-aged female writer & teacher, this fiercely cynical, battered gay British poet. Yet every September 1st, I take out this poem and read it — often to my classes, as well. No one better…

War, my father once told me, never changes. It’s the same for every generation of men (and now women) who fight it for those of us who remain here, waiting. He told me this when he was about my husband’s age now. He told me that the men at the VFW — the veterans of…

No, it’s not a real cat. It’s also not, according to the owner, merely a costume. It’s a fursona. A human being who has taken on the identity — at least sometimes — of a furry. I only learned quite recently about furries. A friend of mine was telling me that her son, whom I’ve…

On the phone the other evening, my beloved younger son told me that while he reads my posts on Facebook, I am sooo depressing. (And yes, there was drawn-out emphasis on the so. :)) It’s true. I post news stories about injustice, corruption, racism and all kinds of unkind, socially unjust actions and behaviours. Because…
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