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.
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.
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
Terry Nichols 