“Nothing stays long enough to know. How long since we’ve been inside anything together the way these birds are inside this tree together, shifting, making it into a shivering thing” —Mary Szybist, “Too Many Pigeons and One Dove,” Incarnadine [Graywolf Press, 2013] The cedar tree on the corner of the lot must remain. So says Margaret, 96, and refusing to let poor sight and hearing keep her from knowing. This was the deal made back then: The place where we now live, a parsonage, could be built and the land would be given … Continue reading Nothing Stays Long Enough to Know→
As I begin to write, it is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the season of Lent for many Christians. I should explain that I am a retired minister and the rhythms of the liturgical calendar still shape many of the things I think about and the ways I think about them. So I beg the indulgence of readers who are not Christian. I mean to write, however, not merely for Christians. Though the language is, at least in part, Christian, my concerns are broader. I trust that will become clear. The beginning of Lent brings … Continue reading Intentional Uselessness→
Imagine for a moment an American family collected in a cozy living room and gathered close for the evening’s entertainment. But instead of gazing expectantly at some oversized TV screen while battling the constant distraction of smart phones and mobile devices, the family hovers around the carved, wooden face of a console radio that broadcasts the latest news, stories from the War, and of course, serial radio dramas. This was exactly the sort of evening my father would have enjoyed in the 1940’s. Just recently, at a dinner party with friends, I spoke with a … Continue reading Vintage Allure: the Early American Radio Show→
Well, it’s over, the most important day of winter, Groundhog Day. And it’s still winter. How come? The groundhog, after being widely noticed, has gone back to sleep, which seems like a really good idea. Here in Central Virginia, we can’t complain too much. It hasn’t snowed yet. It doesn’t usually snow much. Unless you’ve been pining to go skiing, that’s good news. I haven’t seen any posters or bumper stickers saying “Pray for Snow,” yet this winter, but I have seen plenty in the past. I have to assume there’s a significant group in … Continue reading The Groundhog Has Come and Gone→
December is always a good time to add to my already long list of books to read. There are awards nominations, various reviewers’ choices for best books of the year, random recommendations for books people are giving or would like to receive as presents. One of the books that appeared frequently as I scanned these sources was Citizen by Claudia Rankine. I was already asking for Marilynne Robinison’s Lila and Richard Ford’s Let Me Be Frank With You for Christmas, so I bought Citizen for myself. I’m glad I did—sort of. Citizen was among … Continue reading Interactions→
January is upon us and with it the start of several weeks of bone-rattling cold and snow-cancelled classes erroneously dubbed “Spring Semester.” For me, it heralds the beginning of a poetry class I teach at the University of Virginia, whose goal, to paraphrase the title of Edward Hirsch’s wonderful book, is to teach students how to read a poem and hope they’ll fall in love with poetry. This is a required course, so I can’t count on any initial enthusiasm on the students’ part. Instead, I expect to encounter resistance, suspicion, indifference, and even downright … Continue reading What Does a Poem Mean?→
I’m creatively constipated. That’s right, all input and no output. Binging on poetry, nothing to show at writing group. Forget the fifth round of revisions on that damn poem that won’t cooperate. Not inspired. Not even trying. Reading a favorite poem the other day, I detected a familiar aftertaste, a refrain in my head: I never come up with ideas this unique, this good. Intellectually, I know better than to let that thought discourage me from writing, but let’s be honest—it still does. So, I compromised with myself. If I couldn’t write something this good, I could at least copy … Continue reading The Highest Form of Flattery→
I don’t know why I believe that I’ll find the truth about America in Mississippi. It’s a dreamscape, really. So overlaid with lies, oppressions, and Faulknerian legend that to expect anything authentic about the place is foolhardy. But I persist nonetheless because I’m a sucker for myth and Southern lit. Last summer it was Clarksdale that called. I was passing through on my annual summer journey from Virginia to teach in Dallas. So we stopped for a couple of nights at the Shack Up Inn. Don’t judge us. O, go ahead. I certainly did. … Continue reading At the Crossroads in Clarksdale→
The other day I was remarking to somebody that I’d been doing my Christmas shopping and found the stores seemed not to be playing so much Christmas music lately. I’d been to the mall and I hadn’t really noticed any irritating repetitions of that little drummer boy, or any of the usual favorites. She gently reminded me of my deafness. Oh, true. One of the extremely few advantages of being deaf is that, even with hearing aids, ambient music pretty much disappears. Lately, I don’t hear store music — or show tunes in restaurants, for … Continue reading Got Your Shopping Done Yet?→
Chroma Projects enjoyed four exciting years of being able to introduce and exhibit art in our glorious space on the (Charlottesville) Downtown Mall. But all things being eventually subject to change, we had to accept that we needed to find a new way to continue. To keep Chroma alive and functioning under more manageable terms, we transitioned the gallery to our home. Exhibiting art in a residence is not a new idea by any means, art has been formally presented in manor homes since the Italians initiated the tradition in the 16th … Continue reading Inside Voice by Deborah McLeod→
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