Letter from Home | A collection of essays originally written for Flagstaff Live!

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Less is more; On the road with Eva

Less is more; On the road with Eva

Posted by on Oct 19, 2017

This is not a technophobe’s lament. This is not an anti-smartphone screed. This is an ode to the untethered glories of my July road trip without a screen, a signal or a network. The passenger manifest: me, my 12-year-old niece Eva, my beastly driving machine Thor, and all the gear and brio needed for six nights of camping in southern Utah. Her parents—my...

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Sand in my shoes; When the student is ready, the teacher will arrive

Sand in my shoes; When the student is ready, the teacher will arrive

Posted by on Sep 21, 2017

It wasn’t my mother; my mother doesn’t watch soap operas. Maybe it was the woman who came over to iron and babysit some afternoons or the mother of one of my friends. The soap opera was “Days of Our Lives.” Even though it was about pretty grownups in shiny clothes doing mean things to each other, it wasn’t the show that mesmerized me; it was the opening. A...

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A witness, a passage, a Tuesday morning; From this realm to the next

A witness, a passage, a Tuesday morning; From this realm to the next

Posted by on Aug 10, 2017

After I savor my morning cup of coffee, I walk the two-mile loop in Buffalo Park as my way of coming into the day. Morning Edition pipes into my skull, the mountains embolden and soothe with their nearness, and well-being coats my central nervous system. About a month ago, I was midway through my second lap in the park when I saw a man and woman stopped...

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In the thrall of lightning; A perilous and evanescent beauty

In the thrall of lightning; A perilous and evanescent beauty

Posted by on Jul 20, 2017

I returned to South Florida last week for a family gathering. Humidity textured the air, temperatures edged into the low 90s, and thunderstorms rumbled each afternoon, shaking mangoes off trees and creating steamy, spectral patches that rose from the baked asphalt. Under an overcast sky and a warm, weak rain, I rode my bicycle home from a friend’s house...

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The roses and the road trip; A fragrance that clings to the hand

The roses and the road trip; A fragrance that clings to the hand

Posted by on Jun 15, 2017

Last Thursday as two friends and I loaded the truck for our road trip to a music festival, we paused in front of 60 red roses corralled in a bucket on my friend’s kitchen counter. “What should I do with these?” she asked. Her 60th birthday had been the day before; the long stems were a gift from her husband. The blooms were open, showing off their...

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