By Jim Bratt Not much gas in the tank, this third day of the new year. The holiday drive is over, and we are cast

In the first week of Advent—no, make it a good week before Advent, sometime in the run-up to Thanksgiving—the first sound came to me: rum

Well, all of you who have been good little boys and girls found a little something in your shoe this morning, no? Your wooden shoe.

Lots of people are eagerly awaiting their copy of Marilynne Robinson’s new novel Lila. Me too, though realistically my schedule probably won’t let me get

With my mother’s memorial service just one week past, I hope you’ll accept one more post about encountering the end of life. Next time a

My mother died the night before last. It was the end of six months or so of steady decline from an already diminished state of

From time to time I like to use this blog to air out some conversation, or combat, going on inside the guild of American historians.

My grandpa would always read Psalm 90 for family devotions on New Year’s Eve. I witnessed this once, and my mom said it was that