I read newspapers, always have. Always one every day; oftentimes two or more. When I…
The Words We Are Willing To Hear
Back in the late nineteen-sixties, I clipped a cartoon from The New Yorker, at a time that urban renewal was doing its worst in a variety of Boston neighborhoods. The picture was a pair of little old ladies sitting on a train, one speaking to the other. The caption...
Trump Redux: It’s Worse When You Know How Terrible It Was Before
I spent November 5, 2024, working at my local polling place. Had just enough time to shower and dress, walk Ping, have a swallow of tea, and trot over to Samuel Adams Elementary School before the clock chimed six. There’s a lot to prepare: putting up signs, plugging...
The General Election is November 5, 2024
I now have my guidance for 2024: The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. My goal is to arrive at Wednesday, November 6, assured that Sweet Rhyme and Pure Reason have been returned to the Kingdom of Wisdom. I want to know that the Demons populating the Mountains of...
Widow’s Weeds 16: Reminders of What Matters
I expected the village of Žiežmariai to be a quick stop. My target was the church, St James the Apostle, where so many Tomkuses had been baptized, married and seen off to the hereafter. The wooden prayer house those ancestors would have known was replaced in 1924 by...