Dear Dad, I dreamed about you…
Warthog kneeling to eat grass,
Maasai Mara National Reserve, Kenya
Dear Dad,
I dreamed about you last week. I was surprised; you don’t usually show up in my dreams. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth
connecting the dots of my life
Category: Writing
March 11, 2015
March 5, 2015
women’s work | Women’s History Month
women’s work
is never done
sign here
* * *
Even though this is called a Teacher’s Contract, you’ll see it’s for women only. Read the rest of this entry »
March 1, 2015
Loneliness and Solitude | Part 2 of 2
Part 1 focused on loneliness. How it felt to me, and the kind of person I looked for to dispel my loneliness. I described the impossible expectations I had of you and, of course, of myself in my search for someone who would adore me just as I was. Read the rest of this entry »
February 26, 2015
Loneliness and Solitude | Part 1
Loneliness isn’t new, and it isn’t going away. This post is about my loneliness, since I don’t know about your loneliness.
I can’t count how many times Read the rest of this entry »
February 25, 2015
Dear Dad, Do you remember the lilac bush…
Orchid Display at Longwood Gardens
Dear Dad,
Do you remember the lilac bush right next to our back porch? I checked it out this morning while I was eating breakfast. It has beautiful pink buds on its branches, and fringy flower buds emerging at the ends. I haven’t seen any crocus yet. David took this photo in May 2012. I thought it might bring back memories of our past visits to Longwood Gardens.
Not to rush, but my main topic today is YOU! Read the rest of this entry »
February 24, 2015
“…Contentment’s numbing trap”
Today a reader asked about James DePreist’s poem, “I’ve been weakened by the walls I’ve built.” She’s interested in the “relationship between resisting ‘contentment’s numbing trap’ and the ‘peace that passes understanding.'” Here are a few thought about this.
First, DePreist’s poem, in case you missed it. Read the rest of this entry »
February 23, 2015
James DePreist’s Precipice Garden
I’m looking at This Precipice Garden, a slim volume of 42 poems written by James DePreist. One of my friends gave it to me in 1988. I’d never heard of DePreist.
James DePreist was African-American. Born in Philadelphia on November 21, 1936. Nephew of Marian Anderson, also a Philadelphian and role model for young black musicians. When he died in 2013 he was 76 years old.
DePreist’s life was shaped by two realities: Read the rest of this entry »
February 22, 2015
In a Writing Funk
I’ve been in a writing funk this afternoon. The kind that catches me off guard, unprepared.
I spent the morning doing much-needed grocery shopping. I went early because snow was coming. Now it’s here, along with snow plows and salt trucks. I’m back in my warm house, dry, comfortable and clueless about what to write and about this funk I’m in. Read the rest of this entry »
February 20, 2015
Is that You at the door? | Dear God
Dear God,
I ended my last letter with a question: “When I go to the door to open it to You (the stranger), how will I know it’s You?” I’ve been puzzling over my question all week. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 