Authors
Ferida Wolff's Backyard Series: Clouds Communicate and A Gift of Diamonds
The cirrocumulus clouds I saw recently delighted me. They brought to mind popcorn scattering over the earth I wanted to open my mouth and catch them on my tongue. For a while I was a kid again. These were high atmosphere clouds and they lifted my spirits. The rain made it all glitter. The scene went from damp to delightful. And all it took to make the shift was my letting go of what I expected so that I could see a gift of diamonds.
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Culture Watch: The View from Penthouse B and The Paris Wife
Jill Norgren reviews: Each of these novels is a thought provoking domestic drama. Sit down with each and then consider what Gwen and Margot would have thought of "Hem" and Hadley, and what the Hemingways might have made of Anthony, Gwen, and Margot. Smiles or snickers? – the contemplation will be interesting, perhaps provocative. more »
Mail, Mail, Go Away!
Rose Madeline Mula writes: Every day, except Sunday, my mail carrier inundates my mail box with mountains of miscellany — sales flyers from every store within a fifty-mile radius of my home, and mail order catalogs from companies based in states boasting purple mountain majesties or fruited plains, from sea to shining sea — and even from across those seas. (How did that cheese maker in Liechtenstein get my address? And who gave that tailor in Hong Kong my measurements?) more »
A Grandmother by Any Other Name
Julia Sneden writes: The name Grandabbie was my own invention. Before she came to live with us, my mother’s mother lived next door to a lively band of six nieces and nephews who called her Aunt Abbie. One day I referred to my Grandmother as Aunt Abbie, whereat several of them pounced on me. "She’s not your aunt. You can’t call her Aunt Abbie," said another. I remember feeling crushed, but I don’t remember how I came up with the solution of combining Grandmother and Abbie into what was to become her label for life. She used to tell me: "All my life, I looked forward to being called Grandmother. It’s a beautiful word. But then," she would sigh, "I hadn’t reckoned with you." more »