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I HATE doing laundry. I once told a friend that I would remember my child-bearing years as piles of dirty laundry. Really dirty laundry: hockey socks & pads, football jerseys, cutoffs from camp, towels that ended up mildewing under the bed… YUK! Today, while I enjoy the sleepy crankiness of my grandson, I am grateful to…

During November — which I think of as the month of Thanksgiving — I give thanks each day for one of my many blessings. Today it’s my grandson, with whom I am (of course!) besotted. I’m sure this is true of most (if not all) grandmothers. This makes my grandson no less miraculous to me.…

I spent this past weekend in the company of humanists. It’s a word that’s come to have a negative meaning, and I’m not sure why. The word itself simply means to have a deep concern for human beings, for their welfare. For their right to self-determination. Who could quibble that? Neither liberal nor conservative, if…

When you go to a national humanities conferences, you hear a lot of stories. Stories of the past (especially in Birmingham, 50 years later…), stories of what-if, stories of maybe and possibly and even stories about stories. And when you’re a writer — aka someone who collects stories — you may well hear stories from…
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