Recently I was offered the opportunity to help revive the Early Childhood Leadership Institute at the Snelling Center for Government. It was a sweet and bittersweet offer.
A wise friend recently asked a question which I’ve been pondering ever since. “How do you cope,” he asked, “with the times we are living in?”
This summer we’ve had the chance to see all too much rain, and while we’ve not seen a lot of fires directly, their smoke has blurred our skies, their destructive potential displayed on our televisions. What next? Where do we go from here?
Last December I turned 40. The milestone birthday was a reminder it was time to make an appointment at my doctor’s office for a physical.
The harsh reality is that this summer is emerging as a no-holds-barred Climate Chaos Summer.
Walking through town the last month, I saw a white woman in fully traditional Mexican dress, the kind my grandmother used to bring back to me from Mexico when I was little.
At the southwest corner of the Bristol Green, facing West Street and adjacent to the playground, you’ll find the Bristol Peace Garden.
It begins with a nail. I’m trying to stay calm and focused and mindful. I know I leave for Mongolia in two weeks, and I haven’t been there in four years.
It’s okay to have questions about queerness and trans identities. Most of us have been raised to understand the world in terms of a gender binary.
A month ago, Papa Bob died suddenly. He was thrown from his bike and broke his neck. Papa Bob was our son-in-law’s father, the most active member of the grandparent generation.
Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed.
By the mid-afternoon of June 7th, Manhattan was shrouded in a thick, toxic, orange haze of wildfire-induced particulate matter.
Imagine this: The five-year-old squats in damp dirt under a shrub willow. Her safe spot in the leafy stems was part of a hedgerow backed up against a neighbor’s wooden fence.
To our south, people likely are hunkering down to spend the next several months indoors, if they can, with air conditioning blasting. Meanwhile, I look forward to spending my time outdoors.
Both Oksana, who is in her twenties, and I, in my late sixties, grew up in Hashomer Hatzair, a worldwide Jewish socialist youth movement which began in Poland one hundred and ten years ago.
