When my nephew Lucas was in fourth grade, he gave me a mobile he’d made for his Earth science class identifying common clouds. Yarn tethered four napkin-sized squares of light blue construction paper to a clothes hanger. On each square, cotton balls had been tortured into puffy or stringy shapes and affixed with generous dollops of glue. His wiggly...
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Four years ago I spent a long weekend in a Reno conference room as one of five panelists charged with evaluating grant applications for the Nevada Arts Council. Dan was a fellow panelist and jazz pianist. He and I sparked when we heard ourselves voicing similar language to publicly register our thoughts about the applicants. After tedious days of haggling...
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I motored westward on I-40 toward Death Valley. My car, Thor, was loaded with gear, a funk CD compiled by DJ Don Durango, and directions to a top-secret campsite with views reputed to induce something akin to Nirvana. I was little more than an hour into my getaway when I nosed up behind a swarm of RVs living large in both lanes, chugging away at top speeds...
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I read Abbey’s quote last Wednesday morning. It was typed onto a sheet of white paper and posted on a bulletin board in the Mojave National Preserve. The taste of freedom and the smell of danger sound a little like the mantra of a Cold War spy, but Abbey’s words about wilderness become an anthem in the vast high desert of the Mojave, one of my treasured...
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Once more my deeper life goes on with more strength, as if the banks through which it moves had widened out. — Ranier Maria Rilke You get the call. You have gotten the call. You will get the call. Mine came from one of my brothers a few weeks ago. Flat voice, naked, no artificial sweetener: “You need to get here, Laura. She is in the intensive care unit,...
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