Description
Decades ago, my kindergarten class memorized Robert Frost's Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening . I recall that we performed it several times, gap-toothed, cheerfully yelling the verses to general audience approval. The interesting thing is that the poem has stayed with me all these years, popping up at odd moments to warm my imagination.
When my aging terrier started slowing down last year, I took it in stride. She was twelve, and according to an online calculator, old enough to collect doggie Social Security. But just one year later, I knew she’d hiked her last Vermont mountain.
Published 08/21/19
Browsing in my favorite social change bookstore, I overheard two customers talking. One asked, ‘Have we ever had a more racist president than this one?’ And the other replied, 'Maybe Andrew Johnson?'
Published 08/08/19