I remember when I fell into the work of Paul Auster. Because that’s also when I fell for his books. After reading City of Glass (1985) in my Honors English class in the fall of 1991, I then read the other two books in his New York Trilogy: Ghosts (1986) and The Locked Room (1986).
Happy Crockett Johnson’s Birthday! Were he among the living, he would turn 117 today. (Spoiler alert: he died 48 years ago.) I had hoped to be able to offer an Official Announcement of some forthcoming Crockett Johnson projects. Instead, I can offer one unofficial announcement, one teaser, and one expectation. Unofficial, but hopeful: Barnaby Vol.
Yesterday, select members of the Gloria Hardman Fan Club gathered in Concord Massachusetts to pay tribute to the object (subject?) of our fandom. In the interests of sharing lessons from a life well-lived, we are pleased to present the proceedings, in full, via this video, expertly livestreamed by Mr. Dan Seminatore. The event begins at
Gloria Hardman died on August 25th from complications of Posterior Cortical Atrophy (Alzheimer’s) at the age of 81. She was an educator whose sharp mind was tempered by kindness and a gently irreverent sense of humor. Born November 16, 1941, in Pretoria, South Africa, Gloria Dawn Webb was the third child of Leslie Ralph
This week’s #PlagueSong is dedicated to my mother, Gloria Hardman. This is her favorite song, her motto, and very good advice. The song is funnier when sung as Eric Idle’s “Mr. Cheeky” character (as it is in The Life of Brian). I suspect the song’s mixture of irony and sincerity is one reason it resonates
If you have yet to read Ross Gay‘s The Book of Delights (2019), here is an invitation to pick it up. A collection of 102 brief essays he wrote over the course of a year, the book is about the possibility – the necessity – of attentiveness to joy in the world. We live in dark times, and the
I’m borrowing the title of Charles Mingus’ tribute to Lester Young because my uncle Terry Webb liked Young, Mingus, and this song. To the best of my knowledge, Terry did not wear pork pie hats. Earlier in his career, Terry wore bowler hats. Later, he wore a Tyrolean hat. Or no hat – as in the
The third in my occasional “Archives of Childhood” series. The Archive of Childhood, Part 1: Crayons (27 Dec. 2014) The Archive of Childhood, Part 2: The Golliwog (13 Jan. 2015) What are your earliest memories? Recent conversations with family and friends have challenged my assumption that most people remember early childhood. I now wonder if it is
My mother was my first best friend. My mother is the reason I have succeeded in life. My mother is the reason I managed to live through adolescence. There have been many other important influences. Let’s not forget my sister, stepfather, friends, teachers, neighbors, and the many patient people who have managed to put up
Following a December blog-conversation about Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal (occasioned in part by her own chemo), my friend Alison Piepmeier asked me to send her a contribution to her blog, Every Little Thing. It appeared there on Monday. I’m reposting it here now. In case you’re wondering, I got permission from the close relative (named below)
