Blog

Wells Waite Miller’s America

In 1999, my husband and I took our two young sons, aged nine and almost seven, to see the Gettysburg battlefield in Pennsylvania. We attended an orienting presentation of the Electric Map where small bulbs lit up to demonstrate where each of the two sides—Union/United States and Confederate—were located during key parts of the three-day battle. To give you a sense of that experience, here is a map of the Gettysburg campaign from the Library of Congress. We visited the Gettysburg Cyclorama, an historic oil-on-canvas painting of battle scenes laid out in a 377-foot circle. And, of course, we trekked

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World’s Largest Ball of String Ain’t Nothin’: Tale of COVID Grief

Opening Pseudo-Scientific Fact: Weighing 3,712 pounds, this ball of string is 24,901.461 times lighter than the heartache currently being experienced by one single compassionate human. I tried to push the pain away it rolled down a hill. Sorrow picked up twigs and dimes, growing in diameter. I put it in a casket pushing on the lid, squeezing out the tears I hadn’t yet shed. We floated to Lake Erie, my globe of grief and me. We scooped up dying leaves, swirling in damp misery. I cried out to Atlas, asked him for some aid. I’m sorry, friend, he told me

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Poem: Am I Not My Sister’s Keeper?

Am I not my sisters’ keeper? As we shout when wolves crouch down, and hold back blood and tooth and claw with flimsy skirts and petticoats and when we cheer the jungle king that lies with calves in sweet green clover water washing rocks and mistakes clean. Wisdom, pain and sorrow, shame water washing rocks and mistakes clean. Am I not my sisters’ keeper as the pressures of our lives erupt? Who can calm my sister down? Bowls of water, cool fresh water wiping fevered brows with prayer. Rock of Ages, cool fresh water offering faith and love and hope

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An Interview with an Aficionado about her Ever-Growing Rock Collection

Q: Peggy, you’ve just completed a big move. What was the last thing you did, right before you left your former home? Peggy: My flower garden had a rock border. Before I drove away for good, I grabbed a piece of quartz. Q: You still have this quartz, right? Peggy: Sure. Q: From what I understand, you’ve also got plenty more. When you look around your living room, what do you see? Peggy: Fossil from Pennsylvania on my coffee table. Polished rock slab underneath three candles, granite from Mount Ascutney, a Vermont-shaped rock and a piece of quartz with large

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Author Interview: Sol Stein, January 25, 1996

Sol Stein penned his first story on telegram blanks, stolen from Western Union. “My father took them from Grand Central Station because we couldn’t afford paper in the depths of the Depression,” Stein said. His first poem was then published in a school paper when he was seven. “I wrote my first book when I was thirteen and it was published when I was fifteen,” he said. “When I went to see the publisher, he asked why my father didn’t come himself.” More than two million copies of Stein’s novels have now been sold. Selected by major book clubs, they’re

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Author Interview: Aimee Thurlo, 02/14/97

Aimee Thurlo got fired. Frequently. “In 1980, I was super restless at home,” she said, “but I couldn’t find any job that interested me. I got fired from every conceivable job on the planet, too, because I was constantly daydreaming.” “Finally,” she added, “unable to settle on any career that suited me, I decided to try my hand at writing and I cajoled my husband David into joining me.” 

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