So many other things I’d rather be writing about today (eg: my new puppy or Argo, the coolest road-worthy amphibious Canadian export ever). Instead, I'm writing a cautionary tale about the hazards of being good at other peoples’ lives. There’s hardly anything easier. After all, who doesn’t know better than someone who hasn't dealt directly with an issue … Continue reading Suicide as clickbait is stigma in action, starring XO Jane & Amanda Lauren Kass
I’m writing this with a view. Tuki is lying with her head on my outstretched leg. In two hours, she will be gone and I will be bereft. I’ve never had to put a dog down before. In between writing, I put my hand on her head and stroke the space from just above her … Continue reading Goodbye, Tuki, and thank you for 15 amazing years.
I spent Tuesday night with some old white men here in Milwaukee, and they weren’t Republican presidential wannabes. Not only did we get to see Peter Yarrow and Noel Paul Stookey on stage, but after the show, we got to go backstage and hang out with them. Well, mostly we hung with Peter. And we did … Continue reading A vote for harmony and service: Skipping the Republican Debate to sing and tie a shoelace
I’m going to veer off the straight-up Revolution track a bit and talk about the second of a pair of recent family-related road trips. There was the Revolution Reunion Road Trip (3RT) from July 29th to August 4th. That was the two-sister, 1,500 mile run in a rental car. More on that in a future … Continue reading Blogging my way to a bigger family, and a road trip with Richard-Thompson-Who-Loves-Me
July 12, 2015 Dear United: It’s a beautiful day here at Buffalo Niagara International Airport. Your white planes, with their gray/green logo-festooned tails look particularly striking against the blue-wash sky and gray tarmac. I’m sitting here at Gate 10, surrounded by what is rapidly becoming a small community of marooned souls, and in that group … Continue reading An Open letter to United Airlines, with a Postscript to Southwest: The skies were friendly, the ground – not so much.
When it came to fighting styles, my sister and I were not well-matched. When we were very young, (I remember the baby gate in front of her bedroom door and other places in the house) and she upset me, I’d complain to my mother about whatever it was Debby was doing. “Tell her not to,” Mom would … Continue reading Boot tracks across her winter coat and my severed finger: An Application for Entry to the Sister Fight Hall of Fame
It's been 41 years since the day my father dropped my sister and me at school. Neither of us knew that would be the last time we saw him. Debby was in eighth grade and got dropped first. I was a freshman in high school, so got an extra six minutes of one-on-one time. What … Continue reading Memories of a futureless present in Urban Bucolica: a yahrzeit post about last words