Journeys from the known to the unknown
I was struggling to catch my breath as I climbed the big hill behind my home. My ten-year-old granddaughter, hands on hips, watched me as I finished puffing up to the top. It was an early and perfect fall day, cool and crisp. The sky, empty of clouds and the color of the Mediterranean Sea, …
I slapped my empty suitcase onto the bed and looked at my best friend, Marilyn. "What the hell do I pack for a year? Seriously, what have I gotten myself into this time?" Marilyn frowned, slowly shaking her head. “Couldn’t you take the geographical cure somewhere more civilized?” The muscles in my face tightened. “Not …
Years ago I sent out—mostly via US mail, but by e-mail to those few of us who had it—a monthly letter addressed to “Dear Martha White.” Martha White was not anyone’s real name. She was just a photo on a white sack of white flour, a symbol of good white stuff! And for me, she …
