Gorman’s poem of hope infused with her charge of responsibility, her simple honest introspect, made me hopeful our country can move on. Whether all things that come will be good, at least some of it will be. I hold on to the hope that God will lead us, enough of us at least, to...
I’ve grown so accustomed now, new, over the last six months or so, to the loud of the garage door announcing me when I come home to Beck in the kitchen doing a Beck kitchen with pots and pans and loud smells, to the loud of Ricki, aka chunky pants, if a bowling ball were cove...
I’m not generally a fan of poetry, but sometimes a poem says more than any 1,000-word essay. “Still Here,” I think, tells the story of me, my almond tree, and the people of Israel today and through all time. Still Here I been scarred and battered.My hopes the wind done scatt...
About seven years ago, I finally got back to it (after much pining and yearning and a bit of attempting). I dragged more friends up more mountains, despite knee-related setbacks, full time work, bad weather, long drives and all the other forces that conspire to keep me off the mountains...