Category Archives: Blog

The Enormous Gift by Laura Marello

close up photo of zen garden
 

Absolutely unmixed attention is prayer. Simone Weil Love is not merely an emotion. It is a meltdown that reestablishes a more unified space of brilliance, goodness, and sadness. This is the real function of love in spiritual tradition. Lama Lodro Dorje   Last week, the week before my last semester of university teaching (online, in an unprecedented pandemic), I had the most extraordinary experience with a stranger that I have ever had in my long life. I was nervous as always about the semester starting, but extra nervous because of what that last full-time teaching … Continue reading The Enormous Gift by Laura Marello

Pestilence Poetry by Fred Wilbur

Photo of lots of open books
 

Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash Many readers may feel that the disrupting Covid-19 pandemic has changed poetry and more broadly the arts, forever. This may be true as many activities are now on-line and the usual ways of interaction have been altered. I see an unprecedented (yes, that word) out-pouring of mass fear, anger, and angst. It must be said that several other concerns are simultaneously occurring in our country; the destruction of our democracy by incompetence and cruelty and the renewed concern for racial/social justice, sparked by police corruption and a militaristic mentality. … Continue reading Pestilence Poetry by Fred Wilbur

Susan Patrick: Debris into Drawings, Paintings and Sculptures


 

                      On walks, I find feathers, seed pods, pieces of wood, leaves, flowers, sticks, papers, plastic and metal things, pieces of glass, strings, all objects that were useful in some way before they were dropped or lost. They served important purposes and then they didn’t. Some fell from trees, from birds, from pockets, the undersides of cars, or from the hand of a distracted walker like me.                       I find these little things visually interesting. … Continue reading Susan Patrick: Debris into Drawings, Paintings and Sculptures

Another Day by Cheryl Aubin

Photo of wilting rose
 

Toward the evening of the night I thought my mother was dying, the aide, who stayed with mom during the day, told me mom had been asleep for twenty-four hours and would not wake up. She sent me a picture of my mom, smiling and looking peaceful. The aide put the phone up to my mother’s ear so I could talk to her. It felt as if my lungs had closed and no breath would come, a drowning in sorrow and grief, as in the barest choking whisper I told my mother I loved her. … Continue reading Another Day by Cheryl Aubin

More News of Good Writing—Essay Honorable Mentions 2020

Photo of balloons and candle
 

When we held our essay/memoir contest last spring, we had such a wealth of wonderful entries, it was very hard to pick the winners. I think we did a good job—certainly the best we could—but in the process we knew there were entrants, beside those we chose for the prizes, whose work we could not overlook. We therefore asked a number of those whose work we could not pick—since we had only three prizes to award—if they would be willing accept the status of Honorable Mention. Five really excellent memoirists graciously acceded to this request. … Continue reading More News of Good Writing—Essay Honorable Mentions 2020

Ear to the Ground by Erika Raskin

Mold of Arthur Ashe's ear
 

The ascent of the Black Lives Matter movement and the overthrow of apartheid symbols in the Capital of the Confederacy made me think of some of the things I heard when we lived there: –The South will rise again., –The Belly-button is where the Yankee shot you., –Robert E. Lee was a gentleman.*, –The Confederate flag is heritage not hate., –Private clubs (schools, businesses etc.) can exclude whoever they want—because they’re private. The observations worked their way into my novel, Best Intentions, which was set in Richmond, Virginia. Started way back when my husband was … Continue reading Ear to the Ground by Erika Raskin

Walking Beatitudes by Fred Wilbur

Photo of Fringe Tree
 

During the months of our restricted movements, my wife and I have continued our nearly daily walking. Although we had developed the habit pre-Covid for the health of our bodies and minds, the pandemic has added an ironic value to the endeavor. We circumnavigate our village of several hundred souls, masks at the ready, seeing other residents sweeping their porches, watering their flowers and we pause to spend a moment or two commiserating over the hedge or across the yard, a nearly extinct activity now in most larger cities. This is one advantage of country … Continue reading Walking Beatitudes by Fred Wilbur

Altered State by Trudy Hale

Photo of wheat fields
 

It all started when a friend in California sent me three used paperbacks that someone donated to her sidewalk library. My friend and I hoped that my nephew who is stranded here during the pandemic without school or camp might pick up a book and read. One of the books was The Prairie, by James Fenimore Cooper. I admit I had never been able to read past the first chapter in the author’s The Last of the Mohicans. It was a sweltering July day and I sat at my kitchen table, possibly waiting for a phone call. … Continue reading Altered State by Trudy Hale

Why Not Now? by Maya Lear Brewer

Photo of book with dried flowers inside
 

She beats her fist on the secretary desk. Its ancient wooden arms bear her blows. This is the place where her great uncle sat writing his weekly sermons, the place where her grandfather, the professor, sat drafting his letters and lesson plans, and the place where her father sat recording his daughters’ accomplishments on his calendar. This desk is the place of performance, yet not for this writer. Not now . . . Now as she sits, the pen drips ink, the ink bleeds upon the page; but there are no words, just smudges among … Continue reading Why Not Now? by Maya Lear Brewer