Bookshelf
From the Blog:
Little squirrels are barking like they thought they was a mountain lion
Rural northern New Hampshire is a different country from New York City – open vistas, dense old woods full of spirits, farm stands, inns, and ski slopes bald in the summertime on nearby mountains. Some call this state “the south of the north;” it’s seriously...
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
I turned 8 in 1970, the year my mother got into the Ph.D psych program at ASU, the year we left the Bay Area’s happening scene and political foment and landed in Tempe, Arizona. Back then it was a small, flat, sunstruck town full of potbellied Baptist Republican...
Can you recognize the pain on some other street
For a three-month period during my 12-year marriage when my husband and I were separated, I went to live in the basement apartment of a house behind a French restaurant in Hunter’s Point, Queens. Technically, I shared a kitchen with the couple who lived upstairs, my...