Author Archives: janishaag

So we’re really tired of the masks, right? We figure we’ve done our time in them, bunches of us have been vaccinated, or we’ve got our immune systems functioning well. Enough with the masks already. I think this every time … Continue reading →

Every morning I walk into my kitchen and look out the window of the back door to see Mary’s murals smiling at me. I didn’t know murals could smile, though I knew they could make me smile. But I swear … Continue reading →

“…we are always fish in the belly of the whale of earth.We are encased and can’t stray from the house of our bodies.” —from “Spring,” Jim Harrison for Kristie McCleary But what if you could find your way out of … Continue reading →

Twenty years ago my life changed in one swell foop, as we say in my family. When it began, none of us could see how 2001 would spin us around as a nation, as a world, how the actual first … Continue reading →

3.14.21 You can listen to me read this poem here. My love for pi is irrational—cherry pi, chicken pot pi, pasty,which is just a nicely enveloped Cornish pi.Give me most anything baked with a crustand a yummy filling in the … Continue reading →

Listen to a podcast of Jan reading this here. On a gorgeous Friday afternoon, as Mary-Mary-not-at-all-contrary began Day 2 of muralizing my 100-year-old garage, I stood at the threshold of the back door, open to the sun, so I could … Continue reading →

Since she was our graphic designer at the Express in the days when the students put out an actual, hold-in-your-hands newspaper, Mary Sand has amazed me with her patience and skill. It’s not easy dealing with a bunch of student … Continue reading →

Listen to Jan read this poem here. And so you sit in the chair to which you have been guidedby the white-cloaked angel, your own pew among manysprinkled around this cathedral of inoculation,filled with other souls like you, each tended … Continue reading →

Six days a week, between about 1 and 4 p.m., I head to my city’s oldest college campus that has taught students for going on 105 years, now quiet, seemingly abandoned. It’s not, of course, though nowadays students and teachers … Continue reading →

Two years ago today Dick Schmidt felt dizzy and collapsed as we stood in line in Honolulu to board a plane home after our annual winter trip to Hawaii. Without warning, he died in that moment. But two men immediately … Continue reading →