We were heading into a tornado. Of course, we didn’t know that. Our daughter Susannah was returning for her last year at college in Grand Rapids. But a late summer thunderstorm hit us en route. Soon, it developed into a blinding deluge. White-knuckled, I pulled into the dorm parking lot. As we headed for the dorm’s entrance, sirens went off…. Read More
My mother was never happier than right after she’d had her hair done. Done as in testing the center of a baked layer cake. Done as in having her hair washed, rolled, heated, styled, then secured with a shellacking of AquaNet. She told me once that her most innovative ideas came to her while sitting under the celadon dome… Read More
I have been in Michigan for almost twenty years now and I still can’t get used to it. Not the Michigan winters, but the Michigan summers. By mid July the wild flowers along the highway, the carnelian dahlias in our yard, the emerald lawns and shiny lake down the road all serve to fill my sense with an abundance of… Read More
Last night it was eight degrees below. How do the chickadees keep warm? I know how the blue jays do. A friend told me he places peanuts in their shells on his deck for the squirrels. But an uninvited blue jay soon landed, lifting and shaking at least twelve shells before selecting the heaviest one with peanuts loaded in both… Read More
Sandrine’s mother greets us at the door. My brother and I leave behind a small crowd of children pointing and yelling “Muzungus!” They must wonder why two Americans have driven all the way up a nameless road to their neighborhood along the outskirts of Kigali, Rwanda. Sandrine watches as we enter. Her large brown eyes dart about the room like… Read More
For three hours I had jumped over swarms of African ants, slipped up muddy ravines, and clung to vines of stinging nettle. At last I teetered on the summit of a volcanic ridge 8,000 feet above sea level. With my last ounce of breath I yelped “Hallelujah.” I was eager to reclaim a healthy image of myself after suffering weeks… Read More