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Vocation
Hero Worship
Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, family members, Wonder Woman
January 2005Drama Queen
We all want to be cared for out of pure love, but love does not come pure in this world. It comes stained, and sometimes stinking of urine, as her bedroom did near the end, when her catheter was leaking. In this world, love comes mixed with pity and anger and guilt and all those other less-than-noble emotions that we are not supposed to have. We should thank God love shows up at all.
November 2004God Is Not Dead, He’s Busy Making Sure Nicole Kidman Wins Another Oscar
I was walking on the ice. Let me say up front that I am not a foolish woman, that the ice was thick and I was dressed warmly. Let me add that, though I do drink too much on occasion, I wasn’t drinking that morning. I’d just had one teeny-tiny hit of good pot. That was all.
March 2004Sunbeams
January 2004What was any art but a mold in which to imprison for a moment the shining elusive element which is life itself — life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose.
A Brief History Of The Sun
The first issue of The Sun came out in January 1974. The war in Vietnam was winding down, and Richard M. Nixon would soon resign the presidency. It was also the height of the energy crisis. The OPEC oil cartel had raised prices, resulting in lines at gas stations and debates about reducing dependence on Middle Eastern oil. So when Sy Safransky and coeditor Mike Mathers were deciding on a topic for the first issue of their new magazine, they chose “Energy.”
January 2004The Sun Turns Thirty
An Unlikely Story
Step into any coffeehouse in any college town across the country, and you’ll find a couple of small, independent publications stacked by the door. . . . They publish a few issues and then disappear, or, rarely, last a year or two before becoming just a memory in the minds of a handful of locals. Now try to imagine that, thirty years from now, one of those odd little publications will still exist. Even more improbable: imagine that it will have found tens of thousands of readers all around the country.
January 2004January 2004
Time throws his arm around my shoulder, congratulates me for thirty years of hard work, and hands me a cigar: the exploding kind, I see. I thank him and slip it into my pocket. For later, I say. When my work is done.
January 2004Idealism
Ghosts of plantation-owner ancestors, sainthood abandoned, a long red scar
December 2003Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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