Sep 18, 2017
Love and Grief at the Edge of the Marsh
“When your husband is dying and your child is on the cusp of forming actual memories, nothing in the world makes sense.”
“When your husband is dying and your child is on the cusp of forming actual memories, nothing in the world makes sense.”
“Trump and his administration are readable. And we must read them carefully.”
“The feeling of being out on my own is worth all the fear I must fight to get there.”
“Even though the Philippines is where I’m from, I’m American.”
“I’m still transfixed by the deep-fried stick of butter on a stick.”
“I would rather have a daughter who acts out than one who falls in line.”
“All I knew was that if my Pops could work hard and pull himself up out of poverty, I could, too.”
“So many of us professional food people struggle with eating and body issues. We’re drawn in.”
“My girl calls it a balance of New York ambition and Southern hospitality, but I would claim Philadelphia for the Rust Belt.”
“Fueled by the 2016 campaign, ugly prejudices deeply rooted in our community would slither into the light.”
“It will be my parents’ last eclipse; it will be my daughter’s first.”
“Many look at the world through the eyes of conquerors. What happens when you stop taking your position for granted?”
“Some of these horses have also been rescued from floodwaters. They too are in a strange place, and deeply alone.”
“To be ten feet from someone on a beach like that is to be a mile from them. It is like a tundra.”
The day we hiked Benjamin’s last trail, hundreds of thousands of refugees were desperate to get into Europe.
Many writers spend years looking for the light at the end of the adjunct tunnel. I took another route: teaching high school.
No one in my family knew Freddie Gray. Yet each of us drew a composite sketch of the dead man.
You buy a one-way ticket to Beijing, and tell your mother you are traveling alone to figure out if China might be the answer.
“The morning after the attack, I almost broke down when a colleague asked if I was okay.”
