The Mysterious Back Page

The Mysterious Back Page

The other day, I was cleaning out my bookshelf and came across a tattered book that was given to my mother as a teenager. (Though when I texted her just now she said she has no memory of the “Steve and Sue” whose inscription in the front cover indicates they gifted...
Feeling Other People’s Feelings

Feeling Other People’s Feelings

The first time I cried on stage was in college. It was a big deal for me. I was in an Acting Shakespeare class and was performing a monologue from Cymbeline.  The character I’d chosen was Imogen, daughter of Cymbeline, the king. In the monologue, she is responding to...
Bad-Assed

Bad-Assed

One thing I never have to worry about is getting too full of myself. See, I have this built-in behavior pattern that kicks in any time I might be tempted to even think I’m “all that.” An example: Recently, my wife Dixie and I had the privilege of teaching a five-day...
Drink ’em Down

Drink ’em Down

  Lately, I’ve had ants on the brain. And in my house. Not the trails that many Californians complain of. Not yet. So far, all we’ve had are lone scout ants, those extraordinary individuals who have the courage, the compulsion, the drive to seek out new horizons...
Some Thoughts About Blood

Some Thoughts About Blood

I am sitting in my dining room, eating a bowl of oatmeal with raisins and apples. It is morning. I am perusing my latest issue of the New Yorker and come across a review (by Jerome Groopman) of Rose George’s book Nine Pints. The first...