Painting: The Beeches, oil on canvas (1845) by Asher Brown Durand (1796-1886), part of the Hudson River School, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City.
I know exactly where I was on July 16, 1969. Six weeks after high school graduation, three friends and I were parked along the Banana River at Cape Kennedy, part of an estimated one million people who had come to Florida for the same reason and to the same destination. We had spent the night in the car, ensuring a clear view across the river to a site about a mile or so away. Parked behind us was a young couple from Canada, who, like us, had spent the night there. We had been the first car to park. We tried to sleep, but lights from cars and vans kept us awake all night. Later that morning, July 16, 1969, we watched and cheered the launch of Apollo 11, carrying the crew that would land on the moon.
I had heard this anecdotally before, but it’s still surprising (and to see it confirmed) to learn which Americans are the most generous, in terms of giving to non-profit organizations. The confirmation is a book, Who Really Cares, by Arthur Brooks, professor of Public Administration at Syracuse University. It turns out that the Americans who give more are the ones who mistrust big government and generally live in the so-called red states.
For the first time in more than 900 years, the Bayeux Tapestry has returned to Britain for an exhibition at the British Museum. It is a woven account of the Norman Invasion of 1066, and it’s almost 230 feet (70 meters) long. The BBC describes five of its key scenes.
The Book of Genesis says that Eve was created from a rib of Adam, to provide a helpmate and companion. Many have pointed out that it was a rib that was used to create her, implying equality or, more pointedly, “equalness” in the eyes of God. The story of the fall is familiar – Eve is convinced by the serpent to eat of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, she convinces Adam, and they’re both thrown out of Eden. For their disobedience, Adam has to work the soil, and Eve gets pain in childbirth. And we know the names and stories of her first two sons, Cain and Abel, and the name of her third, Seth, whom she recognizes as a gift.
Beyond those basic facts, there’s no further mention of Eve in the Bible. In To Eve: A Book-Length Poem, Sarah Dickinson Snyder doesn’t envision what Eve’s life was like so much as she considers Eve’s mind, her thoughts, her feelings, her hopes and dreams. And she uses Eve as a kind of lens to consider some of her own life and the life of women more generally. The poem is less an imagined biography and more of a reflection.
I worked as director of Communications for St. Louis Public Schools for eight months. It was the position I worked for the least amount of time in my entire career, the most chaotic job I ever held, and the one that likely remains the most vivid in my memory.
Perhaps it was the political battles inside the district, the arrests at school board meetings, the ongoing protests, my boss getting doused with a pitcher of water by a member of the school board, the typical chaotic day of an urban school district. It might have been the constat media exposure, starting my first day (eight separate interviews on a teacher sick-out) and continuing until my last day. I did more media meetings and discussions in those eight months than the rest of my career combined.
A lot of scenes have stuck with me; a few even got worked into my five Dancing Priest novels.
To continue reading, please see my post today at Dancing Priest.
Photograph of Headquarters by St. Louis Public Schools.
Poet Tina Kelley seems fascinated with words, unusual often obscure words. Have you met an aeolist (a person who claims to be inspired), or been blessed by one? Have you experienced a diapause (a period of suspended development? Have you discovered that you might, at least on occasion, be a prosopagnosic (one who suffers face blindness), or that you can practice steganography (a form of writing that obscures, like invisible ink)?
In Field Guide to Noth American Words, Kelley takes those unusual words and others and creates poems, poems that are not obscure or unusual, vivid poems about life, birthdays, aging, hacked passwords, birthdays, the future (as seen through birds), an old doll in an attic, all those rooms that the hallways of unusual words can lead you to. Like any proper field guide, the words are arranged alphabetically.
The Summer 2026 edition of Cultivating Oaks Press is online today, and the theme is “renewing charity.” My new short story, “Decision on the Stairs,” is fiction, but it’s based on something that happened to my wife and I in London in 2012. We were getting ready for our day when fire alarms went off, and the hotel had to be evacuated. The elevators were not an option; we were on the 14thfloor, and the hotel was nearly full. There was no panic, but there was rising anxiety, and people were rushing to get out.
Six years ago, I published the last novel in the Dancing Priest series, Dancing Prince. A good deal of it is set on a fictitious island named Broughby in the Orkneys, off the northern coast of Scotland. One of the characters, Erica Larsson, becomes the romantic interest of Thomas Kent-Hughes, the reclusive son of King Michael who has gone his own way and avoided the royal limelight.
Thomas, or Tommy, leads an archaeological team that discovers what looks like a Viking tomb, except that it is carved with a cross, a very Christian cross. And Erica writes a story, of novella length, entitled “Island,” which imagines how such an anomaly could have happened. Vikings destroyed churches and abbeys; they didn’t get buried as Christians. Or did they?
I read a lot about the Vikings as research for Dancing Prince. If I’d included everything I learned, it would have made another book. But I did write the story that Erica would tell, and the publisher agreed to include it as an addendum with the novel. And I explained the story and how it came to be in a post entitled “The Story of the Novella ‘Island’”. Dancing Price, like it four predecessors, is classified as “alternative contemporary history.” Island is historical fiction, and it was the first time I attempted anything in the genre.
As it turns out, considerable information exists about the Viking Christians, or how the Vikings turned to Christianity. This past weekend, I stumbled across this short video, which describes what happened rather succinctly. It’s a fascinating story.
Top illustration: “Ansgar Preaches the Christian Doctrine in Sweden” by Hugo Hamilton (1830).
It’s one of those immediate political litmus tests. The White House Domestic Policy Council issued a report on the National Museum of American History, aka the American History Museum on the Mall in Washington, D.C. Using the museum leadership’s own words and actions, the report said this: “Museum leadership has explicitly adopted an ideological framework that no longer treats the American story as a shared national inheritance to be taught or celebrated, but as a political instrument to divide, dispirit, and discourage our citizens.” Predictably, the blue side of politics and the news media were outraged; the red side of politics said, “Tell me something I don’t already know.”You can read the report yourself and decide. It’s 112 pages, but the executive summary is succinct.
If you were asked to name the Founding Fathers, you would probably say George Washington, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson. You’d think a minute, and add Benjamin Franklin and James Madison and perhaps John Hancock, he of the large signature on the Declaration of Independence. And there are others, of course. But another one, who didn’t sign the Declaration and wasn’t featured in stirring patriotic poems or songs, deserves better recognition for his more-than-significant contributions to the American cause. And his name was George Whitefield.
More than 30 years ago, media and education critic Neil Postman (1931-2003) warned against the proliferation of media technology, including the use of computers and related devices in classrooms. It took us more than 30 years to begin to learn he was right. I read sevral of his books, and I still have a copy of Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology (1992). Emily Wenneborg at Front Porch Republic just read another Postman work, Amusing Ourselves to Death (1985), and she discovered the theme and ideas it contains have gone supernova.
I’ve read poems that are filled with tenderness. I’ve read poems that have an edge. But I can’t think of a collection I’ve read that have both tenderness and an edge.
That is, until I read Instructions for Use: Poems by Arlene Demaris. Not only does she write poems that are tender with understanding, she also drops any idea of rose-colored glasses and smacks you with often-shocking reality. And what you realize is that this is life, with the good and the bad mixing together into one lump of what it means to be human. Or as Demaris writes, we forget “how much of us is salt water, how much of us is music.”
Every day was chaotic. Little if anything could be anticipated or planned for. I often looked at the office telephone (and my Blackberry; that was the phone we used) as the enemy. You answered a call, and your day instantly changed.
I learned that I wasn’t the only one dealing with chaos. The man brought in to take over the district’s finances (which were a train wreck; the district was not only technically but actually bankrupt) was a former corporate CFO. He dealt with impossible tasks every day. His wife later told me that she worried most about public meetings – Board of Education meetings, town halls, outreach meetings – because anything could and often did happen. She would look for me making a statement on TV news, and then she knew her husband was okay.
The district had all the problems of an urban school system – money problems, crime, declining educational standards and test scores, dropping enrollments, school consolidations. An outside management firm had been brought in to try to transform the district; school closures, budget reductions (the communications budget was reduced from $1 million to $20,000, and that had been spent by the time I arrived).
To continue reading, please see my post today at Dancing Priest.
Photograph by Wayee Tan via Unsplash. Used with permission.
We just finished watching our youngest son’s wife navigate the first two stages of motherhood – pregnancy and childhood. She was a trooper, and I spent a lot of time in simple, quiet awe. And now our and her families have been blessed with fraternal twin boys.
Poets have addressed motherhood probably ever since poetry first existed. Elizabeth Barrett Browning (”Mother and Poet”) and Christina Rossetti (“To My Mother”) come to mind, but even Edgar Allen Poe wrote “To My Mother.” Other poets who’ve written about mothers or motherhood include Gwendolyn Brooks, Sylvia Plath, Nikki Giovanni, Sharon Olds, Louisa May Alcott, Langston Hughes, Maya Angelou, William Blake, and Sara Teasdale.
