This piece started to take shape when it was my turn to drive. My husband pulled into a rest area so we could switch. When I was settled behind the wheel, he made some funny…
Lit Mag Love: Jamy Bond
This is a grief memoir on fire in Mozambique. It’s a long love letter to a younger sister, a Peace Corps volunteer. The writer, Jamy Bond, was also a Peace Corps volunteer. She opens with…
An All-School Grief Conversation
During a recent Town Meeting, an all-school event following breakfast on Wednesdays, I presented a slideshow and story about growing with grief. “What to Do When Something Bad Happens to You” has spun around in…
Sunburst
The Essex County (NY) Arts Council awarded me with a Sunburst micro-grant so I can attend the 2023 HippoCamp: A Conference for Creative Nonfiction Writers. Grants are gifts and I’m sooooo happy I’ll get to…
Fridays at Five Club
I experimented with erasure poetry this summer and led two sessions on the form with students during our fall orientation. North Country School teachers are a passionate bunch. Over the years, we’ve had an Ultimate…
Mornings Like These
Teacher friends who know I don’t work weekends often ask about my plans when Friday rolls around. They are preparing themselves for a full day of hiking up Phelps or Algonquin, maybe a trip to…
When September Ends
Green Day’s “Wake Me Up When September Ends” was on the radio…again. Billie Joe Armstrong’s love song to the pain he’s endured since his father’s death from cancer is a perennial staple on independent radio…
The Weather
September means faculty meetings and preparation for students at my little boarding school in the Adirondacks. It also means I’m winding down my online teaching and tutoring for the summer. The other night, during my…
Drawing Inspiration
I’ve been on an ART BOOK kick this summer. I bought four books: one about sketching and three others about illustrating journals and collage work. I found them at a little shop along Lake Champlain,…
Lit Mag Love: Eirinie Carson
I’ve written about how my perspective about grief shifted dramatically when I lost my baby. O. was sixteen, my younger boy, and watching him slip away was terrifying. Living without him is like having a…