I could get the store brand or the stick of dough wrapped in plastic. It was heavy. Natural ingredients. No lard. European. I got two.
Author: Terry Nichols
Malinda Seneviratne on Rock Newspapers
Newspaper Rock, Southeast Utah I met Malinda Seneviratne on the street in Colombo, Sri Lanka last year when I couldn’t flag down an auto rickshaw during rush hour. In exasperation, I turned to the nearest guy on the sidewalk, who happened to be Malinda. He detected my American accent. When I told him I was…… Continue reading Malinda Seneviratne on Rock Newspapers
Auroville: A Place Unto Itself
The experience defies description. Utter calm, utter peace. Until someone belches, or sneezes, or farts.
Moments of Glory in India
I really didn’t want to do it. I was on a three-week vacation, after all, and didn’t want to do anything that resembled work. But I couldn’t say no to my dear friend Rengasamy when he asked me to give some public programs during my visit to Madurai, India in 2007. We knew each other…… Continue reading Moments of Glory in India
How I Learned
My first-grade teacher, Mrs. Hume, wore horn-rimmed glasses and dark dresses. I remember little else about her, except that she placed me in the bluebird reading group and seemed very old. The year was 1960, an election year. Even though I was only six years old, I was aware that two men, Kennedy and Nixon,…… Continue reading How I Learned
The Trouble Tree
I found an old journal entry from several decades back. At that time I was exploring the language of the natural world while wrestling with love problems, work challenges, self-doubt, and general heaviness in my life. The setting is the Southwest, among sandstone boulders and cavorting ravens and a canyon head and high desert vegetation.…… Continue reading The Trouble Tree
Very Beautiful: A Cultural Perspective
“What is your age?” He smiled, but all I could think was, huh?
My Journey of Lost Memories
I stood hanging on to my shopping cart, mind blank. A fog had descended. I stared at the guy in front of me, picking through vegetables. I remember him, because on the back of his navy blue shirt were the letters, “EMS.” I would meet him a little later. “Can I help you find something?”…… Continue reading My Journey of Lost Memories
My Mom’s Criminal Past
Earlier this year my 96-year-old mother passed away. Mom assigned me to tell this story at her funeral services. When I was a girl she and Dad had bought a small farm in Indiana, where on weekends he enjoyed playing farmer and she enjoyed out-fishing her husband. The kids fooled around mostly—we swam and fished…… Continue reading My Mom’s Criminal Past
