Well, that seems like a strong thing to say. Entire eras of American history have been defined by and named for certain administrations, and certainly there have been unique, exceptional actions performed by the individual officeholders. So why might it supposedly not matter? A lot of it has to do with Congress.
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Bring Back the “Guy” Magazines
I think we need to quickly bring back the good old days of the “guy” magazines. Maybe, just maybe, we could get some relief from the current phenomenon of the angry, conservative “hot talk” that fills our AM airwaves day and night.
Indian Summer
Autumn conjures up hallowed thoughts of education. Scholars conversing under sturdy campus oaks. Visits to libraries late at night, haunted by information.
Yet harvest’s end heralds an older turn from physical to mental labor, one that predates mortarboards and standardized tests. It’s a release of time to reflect on our ways, raid the smokehouse of knowledge, slice into some farm-cured ideas. [Read More]
Back to Interlochen – Observations on the Roads of the Lake Michigan Watershed
Last summer, I traveled with my son Tevan to Interlochen, Michigan, where he attended the Interlochen Summer Arts Camp, an amazing conglomeration of over 2000 kids from all over the world, studying music, theater, dance, creative writing, film and visual arts. [Read More]
Butterfly Net’s Catch
Soaking in black raspberry vanilla scented water, classical poetry in song repairs Millie’s parched spirit. Her what the hell is it all about thoughts swirl clockwise — she pokes her big toe in the stopper’s loop pulling upward letting small amounts of water escape. The bathtub’s plumbing makes a ravenous sucking sound.
We the Small…Fall (Short Fiction)
“After leaving an air show just before a crash, and reading an article about our government’s increasing reliance on drones, I imagined this column written by a witness to a flying robot crash in a future air show.” — R.W. Bonn
Prairie Dogs, Tunnels, and Politics; Welcome to My World
Why is it that we are always so sure of ourselves, so convinced that we’re right, about everything, all the time? Why do we consistently act as if how we perceive the world is “the one truth” – the RIGHT way?
In Praise of a Quiet Life
The quiet life is about listening and attending to your existence and to that of the universe and spirit around you. It is about stilling the noise enough that you can hear. What you hear will depend on your singular vocation, your calling.
Love in the Wrack Zone
Where others strolled with their buckets of shells, we were dragging leaf bags along, combing the wrack zone, that line of debris where the tide recedes; where all manner of incongruent sea life coalesces. Steve and I shared a passion we never would with anyone else. Steve knew much about how to work kelp and take advantage of its ability to become as leather when wet, and wooden when dried. I followed through with finished products in my own style. [Read More]
I don’t think so
The horses slipped through the small cracks in the crowd. They entered a few feet, then stopped and shifted around. Not sure what to do, surrounded so closely on all sides by quietly standing humans, the horses seemed deeply uncomfortable about stepping on people. They seemed to say to their riders, “What are you doing! You want me to hurt these people who have been petting my nose for the past month? No. I don’t think so.” [Read More]
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