Whenever my husband and I travel for work, we load the kids into the car and
make the drive north and east, past the skyline of Denver and out into the open
plains,
There is a free event in an expensive city that might, if you enter it with the
right spirit, restore a smidgen of your faith in this polarized death spiral of
a country.
On Sunday, September 15th, I sat with my grandpa in our living room. Our dog Max
claimed his space between the two of us. And while my main focus was the 300
pages
Messy, dangerous, preoccupied and preoccupying—memoir concentrates and quickens
life. It saturates. It sings. I’m just writing about me, the memoirist says, but
me is such the wily thing, and without the