Politics and the lies we tell about grief
When we do not take grief seriously—our own and another’s—but merely cover its wounds with a garish fairy tale of winking soldiers cheering from…
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Necessary sounds
During the war, ISIS set up camp in her father’s fields. The rebels fired rockets into town from their perches somewhere in the foothills….
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A daughter’s perspective on the Kalamazoo cyclist tragedy
Certain tragedies are so unbelievable, immediately soaking up the nation’s consciousness like a thirsty sponge, that they become synonymous with a community’s name. Think:…
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Baboon bride
The summer I turned 16 was the summer of Sgt. Pepper, and I took a job as a zoo guide at Jungle Larry’s Safari…
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On privilege and plunder
My small community at Kalamazoo Peace House has been reading Ta-Nehisi Coates’ new book, Between the World and Me (Spiegel and Grau, 2015). Structured…
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Sounds like home
Werner likes to crouch in his dormer and imagine radio waves like mile-long harp strings, bending and vibrating over Zollverein, flying through forests, through…
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Melancholy Christmas
We moved to Three Rivers, Michigan, 13 years ago during a snowy winter to live in a cottage on Pleasant Lake. The cold arrived…
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Healing our blindness
As I write, I’m sitting in my living room watching football on a Sunday evening. I just finished eating a meal made with organic…
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