Eighty. . .

—From CB— Last week I turned eighty. Though I received many congratulations, this was not entirely of my doing. In part, it was due to the cursed medical establishment, who over the years ran interference for me. In part, it was due to my wife, who’s cooked my suppers...

Laughter. . .

—From EF— When I was two years old, I was taught the capitals of all the states, and being only two, I must have sounded funny mispronouncing them. My mother liked to show me off as a party trick, and people would laugh and applaud. I don’t know why I thought I...

God. . .

—From CB— For some time, I’ve had the urge to write down what I believe, to see what it turns out to be. Not easy. First, because most of my writing is storytelling, not essay. Second, because posts here attract a swarm of hornets whose sniffers are out for fascists,...

A Poet. . .

—From EF— I have a friend in Philadelphia who is a poet. Best friend. Best poet. Her work is fierce, powerful, and cuts to the bone. Now she has a new book, laser-focused on war. Our endless war, pick your own name. These poems are not an anti-war demonstration,...

Into the Wind…

—From CB— I’ve made a resolution I might actually honor: to post on FB nothing relating to political or sociological debate. Those in agreement don’t need it; those who aren’t, don’t listen. I can’t guarantee that I’ll be entirely faithful to my resolution, and I...

Home. . .

—From EF— I wrote this in Facebook today: “A heartfelt plea to all my friends: if you haven’t voted, please. Please do it tomorrow. Please ask your friends if they have voted, and if they haven’t, then beg them. No question this will be contested,...

A Visit. . .

—From CB— Our daughter is visiting from Italy, where she’s lived for 20+ years. Because of the plague, it’s been a long time. Her brother in San Francisco picked her up from the airport, she stayed there a few days, then yesterday he brought her up to our place. Last...

Code. . .

—From EF— At the simplest level, I think of it in kid terms: a secret way to say something. Or maybe Morse code, a way to say something in a weird formal language that can travel great distances and unbleep and unblip its way back into common speech. Or what about the...

Surrealisms. . .

—From CB— I’ve always appreciated surrealism, as long as it knows its place. Nailed to the wall or stamped into print, it’s fine. It’s like salsa on the burrito. It’s refreshing, an expression of the world sifted through a single quirky human—the way a face is...

Hola, Travelers. . .

—From EF— I parked in the library lot on Saturday just as a KPFA program ws kicking off an hour devoted to Nanci Griffith, and they began with “Across the Great Divide,” her cover of Kate Wolf’s signature song for those who listen to KPFA on Sundays....