Essays

In many ways, my bookmarks are like my Christmas ornaments, each telling a chapter of my life. But they are much easier to store and can be used all year.

One of the saddest times of my life was the month Tummywumps, my ginger tabby, went missing. I’d left a window open overnight, and while I dozed, she sliced a hole in the screen and stole away like a jewel thief.

For years to come, I will lie in bed and ask myself in the dark: How did I know? How can I trust myself to know again, if ever again I am called to know?

The typewriter is a musical instrument, a work of art — oh, and a simple tool for changing the world.

Twenty-five years ago, I went to Cambodia to learn about myself. I witnessed grace and resilience. I experienced heartbreak and I caused heartbreak.

It is impossible for me to read Twain without remembering that his life began and ended with the appearance of Halley’s Comet in 1835 and 1910. He predicted his demise that year and hoped to ride the comet across the heavens.