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My son made the most observant comment yesterday. He said he was glad to be out of the US for election year. And you know what? I wish I was. I am heartily sick of racism & jingoism masquerading as patriotism, of sexist slurs pretending to be valid critique, and of just plain mean-spiritedness. My…

My youngest son is readying for another adventure. One that involves rolled up clothes in duffel bags, a passport, and another continent. He can’t wait. By now, he’s at the airport. Or on a plane, happily off into the wild blue that called his father, his grandfathers. Given history, it will be at least a year…

This is the way I always remember my father. He was much younger than I am now — 20 years or so. Today is his birthday: he would be 99, were he still with us. Although (of course) he is, for his four daughters. Whenever we get together, old stories join us. Sometimes even new…

It’s been a while. I plead flu, travel, a rambunctious grandson of not-quite-three, and life in general. Somehow, when people spoke of retirement, I had thought it would be both emptier of duties and more peaceful. (I was misinformed…) I also had a birthday, in my favourite month: National Poetry Month. I’ve been reading &…
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