I selfishly gave The Old Man and the Sea to our nine year old son for his birthday, with the inscription, “Happy Birthday! Ernest Hemingway is one of my favorite authors. I hope you have a wonderful birthday. Love, Mom 2012.” Even now, when I read what I wrote, I expect it to say what … Continue reading Reading Hemingway with our son
You know what I love about Sundays? I don’t exercise first thing, or make breakfast, or pack lunches. The first thing I do after peeing and brushing my teeth is to go down to the basement and get my 5-cup coffee pot, stick a filter in, and bring it up to the kitchen. Because on … Continue reading Sunday coffee
I remember how pretty the marsh looks in summer, when a storm is coming, and the grass looks neon green against a blackening sky. I remember the Fourth of July in Savannah that year with Brian. We rode in his Jeep with the top down, drove down to River Street to watch the fireworks. But … Continue reading I remember
“Ready… GO!” The blonde, freckled, 30-something coach is barefoot on the pool deck, his chinos rolled above his ankles. He wears a button down shirt and a dress watch, and his pant legs are wet, despite his precautions. “Ready… GO!” He watches a stopwatch, watches the deck clock, watches his yellow capped, mirror-goggled swimmers race … Continue reading Try not to push
I try to make sure [my students] understand that writing, and even getting good at it, and having books and stories and articles published, will not open the doors that most of them hope for. It will not make them well. It will not give them the feeling that the world has finally validated their … Continue reading On being published
I started journaling with our daughter today. When the TV isn’t on and there is nobody to play with, she needs direction. So I thought we’d have a little fun and read through my first diary together (the diary of Dear Diary, fame). It turns out I was a year older than she is when … Continue reading Do we have to read this whole thing?
Butterfly Mind 