Make sense of this, if you will. How can one individual of clearly dubious character freeze so many into total submission? I know it is not the first time. And it will not be the last. No tyrant ever goes it alone. But what does it say about human nature?…
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Hawthorn Hill Journal
If on a day’s saunter I neither see nor hear any birds, it is of no matter. There are so many other things to see and sensations to experience. Also, as one of my favorite writers, Scott Russell Sanders, put it some time ago, there is much to gain from staying put.…
As I sit here looking out my window every day, and after reading through what are considered credible news resources most mornings, one cannot help but be struck by the preponderance of incivility just about everywhere. Perhaps my thoughts at this moment are clouded by the dismal view from my study window.…
My lifelong relationship with Thoreau, Emerson, Robert Frost and a host of notable American authors and poets stems from those days in Bill’s classroom and on many of the walks that we would take, especially on warm, sunny days. His was an expansive grasp of American literature, as well as history.…
One aspect of this perennial circus that I would like to see done away with is the placing of signs everywhere—lawns, intersections, buildings, cars, etc. My wife has been a bit grumpy with me because I have insisted that we not place a sign at the bottom of our driveway divulging to all the world our preferred candidate.…
White faces, black faces, yellow faces, what a wonderful pallet of what America is and always has been about, a stewpot of all kinds of people from incredibly diverse backgrounds, all sharing in the joy they feel at the accomplishments of their fellow citizens. This color thing has always puzzled me.…
This annual garlic adventure of mine turns out to be a time to wrestle, without having to pin them down, some of the more worrisome problems we now face “in these United States.” It is easy to ignore unpleasantness; even harder to know what to do about it. As I was hanging up the last of the garlic, I was thinking of W.B. Yeats’ great poem, “The Second Coming.”…
I am aware of the extent to which grilling and manliness go hand in hand. By that account, as well as others, it appears that I fall short with respect to any acceptable measure of masculinity. Since I have never allowed specious stereotypes to stand in my way or diminish my sense of self, so be it. Men, if grilling satisfies some inner need, be my guest.…
Gardening is a labor of love, but over time the labor part trumps the love part—knees ache faster, arthritic digits stiffen, lower backs get creaky. We are committed to sitting down and making the hard cuts. We no longer need the quantities we’ve become accustomed to.…
The other thing those lovely red birds reminded me of was the impossibility of ever really understanding what we refer to as the “other.” We could scrutinize one another for an infinity of lifetimes and never bridge the gaps that separate us.…