Category Archives: Uncategorized

Not just us, honey, you’ve got allthe grandparents listening to you play— everyone who nudged you alongyour musical path. Auntie Lo, of course. When you were very small, you sat nextto her on her piano bench as she guided your … Continue reading →

We take up the back half of the stage,two bands divided by a grand piano— jazz stage left, wind ensemble stage right—some of us in both, me dazzled, literally, by bright lights. I haven’t played onstagein a half century, but … Continue reading →

(for Lindsey Holloway) And then the magic of May drizzle,droplets falling like mercy’s gentle rain as we walk back from a late brunch,stopping to sniff roses for scent (pretty pinks, no rosy smell), younaming plant neighbors on your street, (the … Continue reading →

Lanky, easygoing Louis used to saywhen he and other college studenteditors were on deadline, pushing to get an old-fashionednewspaper pasted up on poster-board-sized pages that I would eventually drive 33 miles downthe highway to the printer. Louis couldread the tension … Continue reading →

Never walked a labyrinth before.What’m I s’posed to do?Just walk? What if I get lost?Whaddya mean, I can’t get lost?I can always get lost.Just follow the path to the center?What do I do there?Anything I want, huh?Then walk back out?Huh.Walking … Continue reading →

First, how did the artistwith the spray can reachthe bridge’s undercarriage to paint “MEDITATE” in asurprisingly legible hand?Crawl? Rappel over the side? And did the artful one imaginethat the word might convincea passer-by perhaps paddling below to calm the mind, … Continue reading →

Well, the ancestors for sure.Especially the ones who never knew mebut laid down the path I now walk. The parents, too, who made mein more ways than the original one,far from perfect, perfect for me. The sister I didn’t know … Continue reading →

The tune should have been what I waspracticing that morning on the xylophonein the basement of the music building, but no, after my solo session, on my wayto the bank, I started making a listin my head about the day … Continue reading →

I can count on one hand the peoplewho’ve called me “darling” in a kind way,and, it occurs to me now, that none of them were sleeping with meor were related to me. They haveall been women older than I who, … Continue reading →

If hope is the thing with feathers,as Emily so quotably wrote—dashes and all— hope is also the thing with flowers,a profusion of the blooming thingseverywhere in my small orbit, and I must ask the indulgenceof others who listen to myexuberant … Continue reading →