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And To All A Good Night

Too soon the mistletoe will be a garland.

Pancakes with My Father

My father cried the day his stroke began, as he lay in the emergency ward, watching himself lose his speech and his strength. He cried the day after the stroke receded when my mother and I came to see him, as he looked at us looking at the wreckage.

Dying Properly—like a Dumb Ass (A Dispatch)

Little do I know that in a few days I will have died properly: by explosion.

Walking in a Dead Man’s Shoes

A woman in another kind of grief uttered the terrible “should have been.”

Dirt Thick with Known Dead

While wandering in a used bookstore this summer, I picked up Donald Hall’s String Too Short to be Saved. I enjoyed Hall’s stories about...

Love in the Place of Almost Death

At the height of the political tension in King Lear, the corrupt usurpers of Lear’s throne are at the helm of Britain’s defense against...

Remembering Florence King

Louisville, Kentucky.  “Reading Florence King is like opening a blast furnace,” reporter Liz Trotta said of her years ago. That fire is now out....

The Trouble with Limits

Modern persons have a problem with limits, three in fact. They want every good thing to be unlimitedly available for their desires, and scarcity...

Death and Life in the Country

Hidden Springs Lane. There is something especially sad about opening up a hive full of dead bees. Several weeks ago I wrote about my...