The Kettles of Hate

The Kettles of Hate

“It is too late to blame the sick criminals who handled the dynamite. The FBI and the police can deal with that kind… Only we can trace the truth, Southerner — you and I. We broke those children’s bodies. We — who go on electing politicians who heat the kettles of hate.” – Eugene Patterson, … Continue reading

Mother’s nest

Mother’s nest

When I finished law school, I sat down and wrote, with relief, pages about how much I hated law school. I never said that before. It was ok to say it, finally. Because it was over (and we “did it,” not to say I didn’t know how much I hated it before, but I never … Continue reading

Nostalgia’s Antidote

Nostalgia’s Antidote

Most of my life has been hungry and quiet. Spent trying to figure out how I feel about people, places, or the cold. Or at least this is what I would tell you if I didn’t know for sure. I do know for sure. I wrote it down. What I know is most of my … Continue reading

Here you are

Here you are

Here you are, thinking you got here on your own.
That you worked long days and late nights
and you stretched your mind, body, and brain to its max
and to exhaustion. So you deserve what you achieve… Continue reading

Melodies in the kitchen

Melodies in the kitchen

Enrichment. I use it as a term of endearment. It means, take care of your heart. It means, remind your heart that is has a home here — here being with you. That means put your heart inside your chest where it belongs. Stop holding it out in front of you in your trembling palms, like some … Continue reading

The world’s royalty

The world’s royalty

“The right to exclude or to expel all aliens, or any class of aliens, absolutely or upon certain conditions, in war or in peace, [is] an inherent and inalienable right of every sovereign and independent nation, essential to its safety, its independence and its welfare.” – Supreme Court of the United States, 1893 I come … Continue reading

A dirt road prevails

A dirt road prevails

I want to tell you a story about a dirt road. It’s a simple story, as you might expect, being about a dirt road in a small town in Maine. The road doesn’t get plowed in the winter, and the rest of the year, it has puddles and potholes. It also has footprints and tire … Continue reading

I don’t even like football

I don’t even like football

There’s a place I go in my soul that says, honey, I left you in June where the sidewalks were hunger and failing to disappear. There’s a place I go where I can’t undo myself anymore; I can only exist in the medium space between understanding and not trying to understand, where I hold my own heart and lean into the heart of holding me. Continue reading

Dying in the age of Facebook

Dying in the age of Facebook

It’s March in Hungary. It hasn’t rained, so the day holds both the warmth of the sun and the faint chill of a winter that is ready to let go. I am wandering along a bridge between Buda and Pest after climbing a hill over the city in the evening light. I’ve been thinking about … Continue reading