From the monthly archives:

June 2011

Shrunk

June 30, 2011

I come undone in the summer.
I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the angle of the sun, that melancholy light that lingers well past bedtime. Maybe it’s the looseness of these months, with school out and the feeling that I should be playing hooky, too.
I suspect, though, it has more to do with the fact that [...]

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Good Things

June 27, 2011

It’s been a bit gloomy here lately.
The weather is dreary, cloudy then sunny, too hot or not hot enough, as if Goldilocks herself was at the controls. It is never just right these June days.
But tomorrow my daughter, my sweet baby girl, graduates from Kindergarten. I’m going to write her a letter, not here but [...]

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Unquiet

June 22, 2011

I wrote this in Chicago O’Hare Saturday afternoon, waiting for my flight home from a visit back East.
I’m having a hard time accessing my heart lately.
I’m in the airport right now. I see soldiers and sailors and small children struggling with backpacks larger than their little bodies.
I see coming and going, my own and that [...]

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Whatever Will I Do ALL BY MYSELF?

June 10, 2011

I’m traveling unexpectedly next week.
Wednesday, I’ll board a plane for Rochester to attend and speak at an event hosted at a facility named after my late father. The day also includes a reception and a concert, lots of socializing and fun in my hometown.
It was a total surprise, nothing planned. I didn’t want to drag [...]

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This Is Not My Beautiful Life

June 6, 2011

I’m in a strange time of my life.
Many of the years between my father’s death and my current little plot of time and space have been strange. Filled with upheaval of all kinds, the good and the bad.
If you ever want to precisely define the word “upheaval,” have a kid. Or two.
Lately I’ve felt a [...]

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