“In such a world of conflict, a world of victims and executioners, it is the job of thinking people, not to be on the side of the executioners.”- Camus
Old men speak too often of what they once could do. How does one describe right now without evasions? At 68 I sometimes have to bend and grab my knees, bracing myself to withstand my lightheadedness after I have run back and forth in the yard with the dogs. My heart thumps, a bass beat, something mad and techno. After a full day of work, my legs ache. My sense […]
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I do not miss it, but I dream of it. Never of the new building, only the old school built on a former hay field, the place of dingy hallways and massive windows and trees in the courtyard. Sometimes I awaken in a start knowing I have not prepared for the day’s lessons. What does it say that one dreams often of rooms and corridors that no longer exist? […]
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I know that I have held a book in my hand every day since I was 6 or 7 years old. That long ago, reading ceased being a choice. It has become as natural to me as a sense of my own pulse. For me, a book is the perfectly designed object, sensual in its weight and the array of its scents, balanced, portable, easy in its use, a […]
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After I climb the ladder and root through the albums, I find the one, carry it to the table, dust it off, pull out the creased Topo Quads , cut a piece of string and set it down in scallops and waves, in occasional straight shots through valleys, in switchback zigzags, and follow once more now across four maps, the route we took through the Beartooths . The rules of teaching in […]
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