There’s a guy who publicly calls people names, like “Stupid Joe,” or “Nasty Nancy,” or “Pocahontas Elizabeth.” If you or I talk to a friend and say unkind things about someone who rubs us the wrong way, that signals a need to figure out what’s behind those feelings. But I’m talking about a guy who goes public with name calling and appears to relish it. It’s like little Kenny, a kid in my grade school who would hurl hateful slurs on the school playground at classmates he didn’t like - jocks, or

Dear Friend,

Dear Friend, Fifteen years ago, you and I could sit over coffee and discuss weighty things. No longer. You now limit yourself to a world view espoused by a few TV and radio commentators and unknown sources on social media. Pulitzer prize winning authors and mainstream news are too radical for you. You have traded in National Geographic for the National Enquirer. If I had told you fifteen years ago that you would be fine, encouraging even, of a wall being constructed around the White House and

I often turn to poetry when things fall apart. I suppose it makes me feel less helpless to artificially capture a moment in words as time sweeps something out of existence. These words are no replacement, but for me at least, they’re therapeutic. So as the Rockford Masonic Temple burned to the ground, all I could do was watch and write.

I often turn to poetry when things fall apart. I suppose it makes me feel less helpless to artificially capture a moment in words as time sweeps something out of existence. These words are no replacement, but for me at least, they’re therapeutic. So as the Rockford Masonic Temple burned to the ground, all I could do was watch and write. Out on the roof, I watched the church burn A plume of smoke, so faint against the night That most us past Prospect would miss it Were it not for the sound of

Once upon a time, not so very long ago, I sat alone in a Yosemite forest and wept.

Once upon a time, not so very long ago, I sat alone in a Yosemite forest and wept. My husband and I had been hiking to a major grove of sequoias and were not more than a mile away, when I could go no farther. With my legs like lead and my heart racing, I knew I had to stop, even though to be so close and yet so far broke my heart. Reluctantly, I told my husband to go on, and I sat down on a fallen log and let the tears fall. Self-pity and misery were my sole companions. At some point, however,

Kellyanne Conway is leaving her job at the White House. She says she wants to spend more time with her teenage children and husband.

Kellyanne Conway is leaving her job at the White House. She says she wants to spend more time with her teenage children and husband. She’ll be remembered for her confrontational manner -- and for her lies. She burst out of the gate on January 22, 2017, with the jaw-dropping phrase “alternative facts,” the term she used to defend press secretary Spicer’s lie about the size of the crowd at Trump’s inauguration. Lying became a way of life in this White House. Contrast the two recent political

Sometimes, I take a walk through a cemetery near my house. There's nothing morbid about it. In fact, I enjoy cemeteries, and during a trip, I insisted on seeing the cemetery of a small French town, and we found the tomb of Marc Chagall. I felt vindicated.