(I thought it was worth revisiting this piece, which I posted back in December 2010. Two reasons: The Boss has been back in the news lately with a new album and upcoming concert tour. And my students have this week off to finish drafting their short stories. The post is about my wonder at how things we create just seem to come out of nowhere.)
Last Friday, Sotheby’s auctioned off the manuscript—signed and in Bob Dylan’s own hand—of “The Times They Are A’Changin.’” You mean you missed out? It could have been yours for $422,500. Read more »
A few weeks ago I shared a poem with you here called “I Knew a Woman,” by Theodore Roethke. I seem to be in my Roethke period. Whenever I read someone who says, better than I ever could, what I know in my heart, I feel blessed and supremely happy. Read more »
I realize that one sign of impending codgerdom is the urge to rant – or even write a letter to the offending newspaper – when you spot an egregious grammatical error in print. Where have all the hawk-eyed copy editors of yore gone? Have English teachers given up on teaching the rules older generations learned by the seventh grade? What will become of Western civilization? Read more »
Ted’s been sleeping recently in new places. He used to be a reliable napper; if you were looking for him, all you had to do was check the mangy blue blanket in the corner of the couch in the den. There he’d be, asleep—as they used to say of Dracula—in his native soil. But I think Ted’s new medications may have messed up his radar—you never know where he’ll be lying these days, and if you don’t watch out, you’ll simply step on the poor little guy. I couldn’t help mentioning this to him just the other day, when I found him sprawled unconscious amid the clutter on the floor of the den. He could not be convinced to move. Later on, I found this on the computer monitor. Read more »