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I have to admit that I’m rather perplexed at how mask-wearing has become such a hot topic. Admittedly, it didn’t help when the pandemic first
When we had to postpone the Festival of Faith & Writing this spring, one of my great sadnesses was that we had so many amazing
It wasn’t until my thirties that I even considered not wearing a slip. This is not, perhaps, the most shocking admission, though it may be
Tomorrow is my mother’s birthday. She would have been 77, and you would have known it was her birthday because she would have told you–probably
I admit it: after all these days at home on my own, I’m growing tired of words. Maybe not “words,” exactly, and certainly not books.
So, March was 749 days long. I’m not sure if I’m ready for the month billed by T.S. Eliot as “the cruelest.” The picture painted
In Four Quartets, T.S. Eliot observes that “midwinter spring is its own season.” What a perfect encapsulation of Michigan weather! I think about that line
I started my First Year Composition course off a little differently this spring. Instead of plunging directly into all things thesis-driven, I decided to spend
When my dear friend and frequent collaborator Jane Zwart recommends something, I listen. Particularly when it comes to poetry–because, as an accomplished poet herself, she
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