“My Heart is Not Any Age:” Random Thoughts on Growing Older

“My heart is not any age. It is a baby, an elder, a dog, a cat, divine.” — Anne Lamott, ‘This is the last Saturday of my fifties’ Two years ago, thanks to a friend, I stumbled on the fact that writer Anne Lamott and I were born on the same day. We were both […]

Not The Cruelest Month

According to T. S. Eliot in the opening lines of his epic poem “The Wasteland:” April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. People do seem to get this line wrong, substituting March usually. I’m not sure what Eliot meant by […]