Scores of people get off the train from Paris at Moret-Veneux-Les-Sablons. Most, I notice, are carrying the international symbols of tourism—a camera and a bottle of water. Since I’m not quite sure what I’m doing, this is hopefully a sign… Read More ›
If you’ve never heard of Bay City, Michigan, raise your left hand like you are about to recite an oath—palm facing away from you, thumb to the right. Your hand is now a map of the lower peninsula of Michigan…. Read More ›
When I think back about Tbilisi, I may remember fat, green figs ripening on trees; wooden balconies decorated with elaborately carved lattice work that often dangled precariously; an abundance of cat and anti-Russian graffiti painted on doors and drab concrete… Read More ›
I remember sitting at the kitchen table, the setting sun, a plate with two beets. My parents were lovely people, but both had come from farming families. They believed in the healing power of fruits and vegetables. Eating mine was… Read More ›
I love you, I love you not It’s strange to remember back to the time when I thought my parents had everything figured out and my grandparents were ancient. Now that I’m both a parent and a grandparent, my perspective… Read More ›
The World In Between 