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Sy Safransky's Notebook

May 2008

The universe will let me know when I’ve worn out my welcome. Until then, why don’t I make myself at home?

By Sy Safransky May 2008

Into Silence

Over the course of two years I photographed my grandmother Marjorie Clarke on my weekly visits to her home in rural Butler, Maryland. With her health declining and Alzheimer’s disease loosening her ties to everyday reality, I spent much of my time reading aloud or singing songs to her, attempting to hold her attention as long as possible.

By Marshall Clarke April 2007
Readers Write

Waking Up

Without cancer, from an overdose, to the truth of a marriage

By Our Readers July 2006
Sy Safransky's Notebook

May 2006

What a big appetite fear has. What a succulent morsel I was last night.

By Sy Safransky May 2006
Sy Safransky's Notebook

July 2005

Today is four years since the accident that nearly took my daughter’s life; four years since the phone call that yanked me out of my Sunday routine, my idiotic notion that the day would go the way I wanted it to. It was a car crash. It could have been a bolt of lightning, Zeus showing off.

By Sy Safransky July 2005


It’s true that I’ve driven through a number of red lights. But on the other hand, I’ve stopped at a lot of green ones I’ve never gotten credit for.

Glenn Gould

February 2005
Sy Safransky's Notebook

October 2004

The instructions that came with this incarnation aren’t easy to decipher. One sentence can take years, even decades, to figure out — and even then I can’t be certain I’ve got it right.

By Sy Safransky October 2004
Sy Safransky's Notebook

March 2004

I’m tired this morning after having stayed up too late last night. Apparently I still haven’t learned how to tell time. If the little hand is on the 11 or 12, and the big hand is reaching for the remote or something to eat, does this mean I have all the time in the world?

By Sy Safransky March 2004