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Rose Madeline Mula writes: Why do high fashion models always look so angry? Is it because they’re in agony teetering on those ridiculous six-inch stilettoes — or because they’re forced to wear ugly outfits like flouncy dresses with unlaced combat boots and plaid skirts with flowered shirts. One ad featured a model in profile, wearing a nondescript dress, striding purposefully ahead. Her arm hung by her side, and from her hand a smallish pocketbook, which she held by a long strap, dangled almost at street level. Flames were shooting from the pocketbook, which didn’t seem to concern her a bit. more »

On June 8, 1968, three days after the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy, his body was carried by a funeral train from New York City to Washington, DC, for burial at Arlington Cemetery. The exhibit looks at this historical event through three distinct works. The first is a group of color photographs by commissioned photographer Paul Fusco. Taken from the funeral train, the images capture mourners who lined the railway tracks to pay their final respects. The second work features photographs and home movies by the spectators themselves. The third is a 70mm film reenactment of the funeral train's journey, inspired by Fusco's original photographs. more »

During our 30-year-marriage, the two of us constructed a wall. Tiff-by-tiff, the bricks grew taller and more impenetrable with each year, until it toppled in divorce. My second marriage was a pleasure cruise. We sailed along watching the same TV programs, walking our dog, taking occasional vacations — and on the rare instances we argued, it was always Tommy who said, "Let's not be mad at each other. Let's talk about it." A few words, maybe a tear from each of us, hugs, and then it was over. more »

Joan L. Cannnon wrote: It's been a while since I have had the unique pleasure of sitting above the common order of humanity, to become a part of the grace and strength of the horse under me. We communicated through my fingers on the reins, the nervous ears in front of my face, and the sensation of leashed energy of half a ton of controlled power on which I perched like a paper monarch on sufferance. Anyone on horseback becomes a new person somehow more important, who exists until her feet touch the ground again. more »