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Though it may seem odd to some to return to the stable on Epiphany, it’s the culmination of the celebration of Christmas, and, personally this year, a reminder of my late mother who passed away five years ago on New Year’s Day. According to NationalToday.com: “Epiphany is a…
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What if John, Paul, George, and Ringo provided the soundtrack for a musical revival of Charles Dickens’s immortal A Christmas Carol? Thanks to The Muppets, we already have at least one spectacular musical version of Dickens’s classic, and I’ve even seen one staged in Pittsburgh. But as I…
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Christmas reminds me just how much I’m not at home. Strangers now own the house where I grew up outside of Philadelphia. Five years ago, my parents sold it and moved to central Pennsylvania to live closer to my sister. Shortly thereafter my mother passed away. As much…
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As I hinted in my last post, I had an unforeseen trip to the optometrist last Wednesday. What I initially thought was a pernicious eyelash playing hide-and-seek beneath my eyelid ended up being a two-day ordeal that led to the removal of a minuscule calcification that had been…
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My first encounter with Malcolm Guite came when he visited Grove City College years ago. A poet-priest-musician, my heart echoed with his song. Though I did not get up to the chapel to see him face-to-face, multiple friends of the family brought me excerpts of his work. Years…
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We’ve begun Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol in British Literature, and as we plumb the depths of Ebeneezer Scrooge’s character, I am reminded of how easily we can be distracted from the things that are truly most important in life. Indirect characterization often speaks louder than any direct…
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At the end of the summer, I bought a bonsai tree. I planned to bring it to school to enrich the ambiance of my classroom (so much wall-to-wall gray!). For a few weeks, it served as the unique centerpiece of our kitchen table. With all of the light…
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Last Sunday brought the first true snowfall to our region of Western Pennsylvania. I came outside to find my younger sons flitting about the driveway, mouths open wide, chasing the elusive snowflakes. In all honesty, they didn’t have to try that hard. The air was aflutter with crystalline…
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For weeks now, there has been silence – the stationary pen that only marks the page of my journal when I nod off in bed. Some call it writer’s block; I call it “the dehydrated soul groping about in desert landscapes.” I feel like one of T. S.…
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Sky brought a caterpillar to class. Shortly before my seventh period British Literature course began, Sky introduced me to her caterpillar (Fred, I believe she named him), a token from her lunch outside in the park. Rather than send her back outdoors to return the woolly bear to…
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the deepening ground 