Latest from the Blog
“For each age is a dream that is dying….”
It was the summer of 1967. I was 14. I never liked camp. The thought of spending a week at the Baptist Girls’ Auxiliary camp makes me want to gag even now. I’m not sure why. It never occurred to me that I might refuse to go. I was a Southern Baptist preacher’s daughter —…
Musings on Marcescence
“Look back, but don’t stare,” my dear friend Barbara Fisher said to me. She was accompanying me in the laborious and sometimes painful process of settling accounts with my past, cleaning up some of the mess I’d made of my life. The important thing, she told me, was to see and acknowledge where I had…
“Why fear?”
Words of Zora Neale Hurston “Somebody else may have my rapturous glance at the archangels. The springing of the yellow line of the morning out of the misty deep of dawn is glory enough for me. “I know that nothing is destructible; things merely change forms. When the consciousness we know as life ceases, I…
Get new content delivered directly to your inbox.
