soft opening the boys of summer took to the field at Fenway Park on a spring afternoon at the end of March with the sun shining and the temperature in the high thirties to start the season I watched from the couch with the pups and tried to learn the new names on the Olde…
nothing new I don’t know that I have anything new to say but grief is redundant when the same thing keeps happening again and again there is nothing new to say because there is no one new to listen we’ve heard it all before we will hear it all again after the next round of…
One Saturday morning when I was working as a Creative at the Apple Store in Durham, a man showed up for a training appointment with a bag over his shoulder and his iMac in his arms. We set up his computer and I asked what he wanted to work on in our hour together. I…
In the summer of of 1969, we moved from Lusaka, Zambia to Nairobi Kenya. I lived in Zambia from first through fifth grade, and then again for seventh grade. When we moved there, it was still the British colony Northern Rhodesia. On October 24, 1964, we participated in the birth of the new nation. I…
hoop dreams I’ve spent the last two weekends following a sport I cannot play watching men and women spin and shoot with an ease I have never known inside my skin my basketball career began and ended in church leagues sixth grade I was benchwarmer an uninitiated American kid from Africa who didn’t know that…
My sermon this week is about the resurrection of Lazarus and wondering about what he might have felt about coming back to life, among other things. _____________________ It is hard to turn a life into a coherent story–or, maybe the better way to say that is it is hard to turn a life into a…
daffodil the first daffodils opened this week as if they had marked their calendar for the start of spring in years past they have not been so punctual which is not entirely their fault I should say the lows at night still dance close to freezing and most of the garden is still in hibernation…
On Tuesdays and Thursdays I go to the office at my church in Hamden. Today was special because our office manager, who is of Italian descent, told me he was bringing Zeppole to celebrate the Feast of St. Joseph, one of the traditional foods made for the celebration in Italy and Sicily. I didn’t know…
train of thought she saw me first as we stood in among the apples though I wasn’t the one she was looking for or at her eyes went over my head to catch the train that chugs around Bishop’s Orchards she squealed like she knew everyone on board or like she was a passenger on…
handscape I’ve been staring at my palms like they were a writing prompt or a collection of coded runes the deep rutted roads that run like poorly planned highways across an aging desert of skin ancient river beds now run dry from days when dreams roamed these valleys like dinosaurs I’ve stared long enough to…