Susan La Flesche Picotte simply could not have dreamed of a hospital as a child. She wouldn’t have known what a hospital was. Her father was a

I’m quite sure I didn’t leave them an option. I sent them off on a Saturday afternoon for a performance of Purpaleanie, a stage play put

I don’t want to be disagreeable. I may be feeling this way, as if I’m on track toward irascibility, given that I just passed a

It was never an easy thing to do. . .heroic?—yes, but never particularly easy. Even though they had no idea where it was they were

The copy on most of the exhibits was written in Dutch, so we missed out on a lot. I didn’t complain–then or now, thirty years

For some time now, I’ve admired the life of a 19th century missionary, Sheldon Jackson, whose name I found on a monument up top of

“Let’s have a conversation,” or so my neighbor Brian Keepers suggested wisely on Monday. “Do you see patience as a virtue or a privilege?” It’s

There was a celebration of some sort in the gym that day. I don’t know why or what was being celebrated anymore, but the place

We watched him shave–at least I did. I mean, I didn’t stand there gawking like some silly ten-year-old idiot, but when he was up beside