The day began for me in the oddest of ways. As is my habit, I worked late into the night of Monday Sept. 10th 2001, writing in my study, and slept in the morning of the 11th. At exactly 10 a.m. I was awoken by the doorbell, and suddenly remembered the appointment I had with some sound engineers. So I hurriedly dressed and rushed to the front door. I opened the door to a bright, perfect-looking day, but it struck me as odd that one of the two men had some blood on his face and shirt.
Read moreA Civil War Journey →
I recently returned from a four-day road-trip (with my nephew Noah and his parents, traveling separately) to some of the Civil War battlefields. It’s a pilgrimage I’ve made more than once over the years, a way of embracing both nature and history. (Those blood-drenched meadows look terrific in the spring.) Done right, it can almost feel like time-travel.
Read morePsalm for a Summer Night →
It’s a late summer evening on Martha’s Vineyard and I’m playing cards with my friend Heidi at the kitchen table as breezes waft through our rented farmhouse. It’s one of my favorite things about summer: how the wind fills the house like a welcome tide. Lie down near an open window and it drifts across your body in waves like gentle surf.
Read morePostcard: The Stoned of Venice →
It was hot and it was crowded: Venice in August was just that far from perfection.
Read moreWhither the Little Girl Horses? →
I’ve been invited to try brevity for a change in this space; and it seemed like a novel idea. So here’s a brief aperture on the past. Last fall, I was campaigning for Barack Obama in the northern suburbs of Philadelphia. I was deep inside enemy territory, and I knew it.
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