This is number four in a series of columns that feature a much-loved poem, and a second poem that speaks to, or resonates with, that poem. This week’s poem is “Danse Russe” by William Carlos Williams, written in 1916. The Poetry Foundation states, “Williams’s deep sense of humanity pervaded both his work in medicine and his writings. ‘He loved being a doctor, making house calls, and talking to people,’ his
In Part III, we learned of George Washington Carver’s work at Tuskegee Institute and a few of his many inventions. This is the conclusion of George Washington Carver: Grandfather of Sustainability. This brilliant mini-biography by Cheri Colburn first appeared in Greenwoman #2. It’s available in that issue, or in its entirety as an ebook on Amazon.com. -Sandra Knauf Seeds of Knowledge Carver’s mission was clear, and he had no split
I just got my dad’s birthday present the other day. It’s always tough, partly because of his age and partly because his birthday is on New Year’s Eve. Which is close enough to Christmas that when he was growing up, he always got a “this is your Christmas AND birthday present.” Of course he did come from a large but poor family. But it’s a common problem for people whose
Link to a Summary of the First Nine Chapters 10 The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, in the middle of the morning, Jorge showed up in my office. “I thought you were working from home today,” he said. “I wanted to,” I said. “Ray’s up in San Francisco with bankers. But I have this report due Monday. You look sick or something. What’s up, buddy?” “When I tried to sign on to
“My beloved Nana, walk straight,” I would say as I tried to gently straighten her bent back while we walked home on a calm summer evening from “yatakh”: an old tree trunk in the village center where the women sat nightly to exchange news. Her salt and pepper hair was tied up in a white cotton kerchief dotted with royal blue flowers, knotted at the top of her head above
What a letdown. After all the hoopla of the past month, in my family the day after Christmas has always been an anticlimax. When I was a kid, I counted down the days from Thanksgiving until Santa arrived. I had been dropping hints since Halloween from a list I had been building from Saturday morning commercials since the summer. I can recall hearing the “you better watch out” lecture many
