Going to Meetin’
Here it is, finally, the day when writers and readers throng into Nashville on an October weekend seeking fellowship and elevation of the spirit and news and gossip. But especially old friends and new books.
Here it is, finally, the day when writers and readers throng into Nashville on an October weekend seeking fellowship and elevation of the spirit and news and gossip. But especially old friends and new books.
This essay originally appeared in Touchstone, a publication of Humanities Tennessee, in 1986.
Rivendell Writers’ Colony, established in 2013, is closing its doors at the end of March. I’m still in shock at the news because Rivendell was flourishing, on course to be a nationally known residency program, but its benefactor has now made other plans for the property.
My mother has dementia, but her old friends in no way shunned or ignored her. She was clearly happy to be there among them, and she said over and over again what wonderful people they are. There was no talk of politics, race, or religion within my hearing.
Worrying for years about a question with no answer is more than a little neurotic. It can also provide fertile soil for plot development.
Solo climbing in the Rockies violates every rule of mountain safety, particularly on a route I picked myself. But that’s the way I liked to do it, and had done it all my life. What happened on Mt. Yale should have been a cautionary tale, but some things are too good to give up.