Category Archives: Uncategorized

Named for a Narragansett word meaning “abounding in bats,” Pausacaco (pronounced paw-sah-KAW-ko) is a wooden lodge with a wide, inviting porch overlooking a small lake.  My grandfather’s two brothers and five other men built the lodge in 1906.  In the … Continue reading →

The gears are shaped like jagged O’s. We lost one of our Spirograph wheels, the third one from the corner, the best size.  Spirograph engrossed me for hours at a time, and losing a wheel was a deep disappointment. I … Continue reading →

When I was eight or nine, I wrote and illustrated a full-color, stapled-bound book entitled Nosie Nellie.  Nosie Nellie and her friend Naughty Nancy, drawn wearing skirts and large bows in their hair, are confident, opinionated girls—empowered, one might say.  … Continue reading →

L and M It’s hard to write during a pandemic.  I am skipping days.  The deaths are getting closer.  A student’s grandmother.  A scholar I met last fall at a conference and have known in an online forum for years.  … Continue reading →

Kerro and I grew up playing cards, board games, pick up sticks, barrel of monkeys, you name it.  We are the two youngest siblings of four, and our older sisters weren’t that interested.  We were intensely competitive, which sucked for … Continue reading →

I haven’t written here in a while, and my writing has languished a bit without a regular writing group and because of life and because my book is out at contests and one publisher being reviewed, so I decided to … Continue reading →

There’s a lizard loose in my house.  His name is Rufus.  He’s Liza’s lizard, Liza who is about to go off to college on Wednesday.  We got Rufus two years ago after she wore me down and convinced me that … Continue reading →

In a canoe at night, we crane at the stars till our necks won’t let us.   Lena sterns the canoe her J-stroke confident. I rest my paddle.   “You can help,” she says. A hint of irritation. I dip … Continue reading →

Leontyne Price is amazing.  Sally feels herself rising out of her seat on the balcony at the Met, her heart lifting, pumping strangely in counterpoint to the sublime crescendo of Price’s song.  Art is physical, Sally thinks, and yet she … Continue reading →