Rather than descending into crankiness, I decided on my last trip away from home to give it a try. So here goes…
The Secret in the Persimmon Seed
I remember my father, at the end of a long family trip to Europe, exclaiming with delight as we drove home: “Still the most beautiful place in the world!”
The (Un)Known Project
Recently when I was in Louisville, I walked down to the Ohio River to see In Our Elders’ Footprints and On the Banks of Freedom, installations which commemorate the enslaved people of the state.
Some More Questions
There’s a magic for me as a somewhat hidden writer (essential for my work) when a book launch brings me into connection with new people.
Hanging On
I’m visiting my old farm, Wolf Pen Branch Mill, ten miles east of Louisville, Kentucky for a few days, and find myself appalled, as always, by the spread of development.
Wolf Pen Mill Runs Again
Resounding through the maple and sycamore forest, the clanking must have drawn farmers from miles around, loading their carts with corn and driving over the rough stone road to the mill.
Hope
This is the way we save our history. Otherwise much of what we know becomes irrelevant.
My Father
I never asked my father about his manicures. It didn’t seem appropriate to raise such a frivolous topic with a dedicated newspaper publisher.
Saving Wolf Pen Mill
Wake up, you well-off widows! We are all part of a world that is threatened by our individual decisions.
Goodbye and Hello
The degree of change that has transpired since the long overdue advent of Black Lives Matter and the murder of Breonna Taylor in Louisville last spring is summed up for me in a Community Forum essay by columnist Quintez Brown.