The bear's name is Parquet and if you've ever read The Velveteen Rabbit, be assured that Parquet has been real for a very long time. An odd eleven year old asked for a teddy-bear at Christmas and the bear appeared... Read more →


Writer's prompts are magical. There is a section in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in which the protagonist is remembering a moment with a college student struggling to write well. I won't get into the philosophical discussion of... Read more →


From the ACT UP funeral march carrying the body of Mark L. Fisher from Judson Memorial Church up Sixth Avenue to the Republican National Committee headquarters on the eve of the presidential election, 1992. Stephen Barker Where were you in... Read more →


We migrated south from New England, down to the Badlands of Fairfield County. Technically still New England by virtue of the nearly invisible line separating it from Westchester County, New England it was not. I'd never stayed in any one... Read more →


My Aunt Annie. Not so sure about this selfie business. Heather, I don't know how to do this. Yes you do. You're doing it right now. She was seventeen when I was born, and married at twenty; three and a... Read more →


"I loved you yesterday And I love you just the same And none of the things you do Could tear us apart I loved you yesterday And I love you just the same When I gave myself to you You... Read more →