The Writer
I write personal essay. I write to find out how I feel about something, an aspiration I learned from the poet May Sarton. I sometimes picture myself as a grizzled prospector leading a forlorn, burdened donkey into the trackless waste of basin and range country, looking for riches that might be only a few bright flecks in a stream.
These essays explore my world, from the hiking trails of California to the Java Sea and the Silk Road, from school days to retirement, from my backyard to my bookshelves. I invite you to read them—with this caveat from the Persian poet Hafiz:
Listen: this world is the lunatic's sphere,
Don't always agree it's real,
Even with my feet upon it
And the postman knowing my door
My address is somewhere else.
*The quote above about the fish is from Pablo Neruda.
The Cooper-Hewitt is a quirky little museum, an outpost of the Smithsonian Institution located on New York City’s Museum Mile. It occupies the graceful Andrew Carnegie mansion at the corner of 91st and Fifth Avenue, across the street from Central Park and a few blocks north of the Guggenheim Museum. Unlike the Guggenheim, […]
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The Pasha loves Konstanze and wants to add her to his Turkish harem, but not by force, only if she can return his love. She, a shipwrecked Spanish noblewoman stranded on an alien shore, has already given her heart to another and resolves to be faithful to her Belmonte, even though the […]
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We knew nothing of Madame outside the walls of our convent school.
The nuns were a French order. Madeleine Sophie Barat founded the order to teach the daughters of the upper middle class during the French Revolution. Religious education was forbidden during Robspierre’s Reign of Terror and Madeleine Sophie went to […]
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