Time Capsule of Yearning

Some context: Cabin fever makes me clean. Stuck at home, I started the day by sorting out the basement, a task that was initiated back in September for Tropical Storm Isabel, in which all the boxes of books in the basement were placed on pallets, and -- that was about it. The storm passed, the books didn't get wet, the basement didn't seem so urgent until the BG&E men dropped by last month and I felt a cringing embarrassment. "I'm sorry it's so messy," I kept repeating. "We've seen much worse," Read more [...]
Share

My Toboggan

It was considered unusual at the time -- a flat-to-the-ground piece of waxed wood, curving at the front, an outsider in a world of Flexible Flyers. But it provided a better, faster ride in a climate where deep snows were rare, which meant a sled's runners couldn't get much traction. The path we most often took ran alongside the Monaghans' property, next to the wire fence that separated it from the Pfeiffers, an older couple with the most beautiful and well-cared garden I had ever seen. The path ended Read more [...]
Share

How This Works. Or Doesn’t

Since the crush of last fall's deadlines, I haven't been able to post here as much as I did in the early months. But the recent quiet is not a byproduct of too much work. I've been reflecting on the nature of the Memory Project and wondering if it falls into the category of "hypnotic" techniques that my teaching mentor, Madison Smartt Bell, discourages.Some background. I wrote about Bell, his wife (the poet Elizabeth Spires) and the Goucher College writing program in the fall of 2025. The program Read more [...]
Share

Try to Remember

My Hamilton Beach hand-mixer is not long for this world. Then again, it is almost 24 years old. It has outlasted cars and hair dryers, a set of Revereware, several computers, bicycles, my first Cuisinart. And I'm a good enough cook, or at least dutiful enough and extravagant enough, to reward myself with one of those lovely KitchenAid mixers. So why do I cling to this Hamilton Beach, whose cord has a tenuous connection to the mixer at best, which rattles and hums ominously? Simple: It was a college Read more [...]
Share