I didn’t see this coming. Pat and I went by boat this week to San Juan, the small neighboring town of artisans–weavers, predominately. Throughout town, in houses-turned-stores, women gather in collectives to sell wares they make at home. They pick… Read More ›
Last fall, I began a book about a Jewish woman from Bratislava. One scene involved Friday evening dinner. I stopped writing, and realized how unprepared I was to describe this. Of course, I turned to Google and bingo… Shabbat of a… Read More ›
I realized this week, I need to roll back the clock, arrive in San Marcos, and relive that first day. Finally we have found our groove so let’s start over. We came to Lake Atitlan from Antigua by shuttle to… Read More ›
What I remember most is the boy in the blue flowered shorts. He looked no older than nine as he stood in the corner and stared at gloves bigger than his head. When the coach yelled, “Box” he danced to… Read More ›
I expected the smell of oleander. Somewhere I had read this description of Havana, but I can’t remember where. Oleander, sultry weather, men in fedoras, women in spiked heels, salsa dancing, rum, and cigars. More than a half century ago,… Read More ›
The World In Between 