The Irreverent Daniel Ladinsky

by Christina Carson Daniel Ladinsky, an American born poet and writer, reminds me of a boy that sat behind me in Latin class in grade twelve. His name was Marshall, and he had as much use for Latin as a dog has for fleas. Let’s face it, Latin, for a bunch of seventeen-year-olds was not a riveting subject, and the Latin teacher, Mrs. Thomas, a tiny woman, reed-thin, was an archetypical schoolmarm. Marshall was squirming in his seat from day...

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Inspired by Roger Housden – Our Place at the Table

by Christina Carson This is no one’s favorite topic, but I persist, for more and more these days, as occurs in the natural course of aging, I ponder death. And you know what; it is truly the most powerful contemplation I have experienced yet. Now if you’re 40 or less, I get it; your hand is on the way to the “red X” in the tab or the close box command, and that’s okay. As useful an adviser as it can be, death is...

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Passing Close By Nature

What is it about close passes with nature, with life in that wild form, the one which so enthralls us that such memories are ours forever? There was the robin that stood at my feet while I raked leaves the other day, just standing there a foot away looking at me, walking along with me like two old friends. Why was that so quieting, so inclusive? I thought.   Then there was the snowy owl of years gone by, who sat just 2 yards away on a...

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A New Look at Miracles

Bert told me a story about an experience he had one day when he rode his motorcycle down Lookout Mountain in Mentone, Alabama to Atlanta to see a friend. As he pulled into the drive, the friend’s young son ran out the door, excited at seeing the big bike in his drive and wanting a ride. Before Bert could warn the boy, he began scrabbling to get up on the bike. In the process, he placed his little hand on the manifold cover. Bert heard the...

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Northern Exposure Meets James Herriot – Episode 8

Let the Good Times Roll It was a good thing we didn’t need TV to entertain us, for we had only two channels and most of the time, though that snow lay on the ground 8 months of the year, it was present on the television all year long. But not to worry, we had neighbors that could easily rate higher than anything CBC had to offer. As summer rolled over into fall, Ernie got the season off to a grand...

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What a Read

I’ve been captured these last few days by Steven Mason’s final book of poetry, The Human Being. He’d been dubbed years earlier, the unofficial Poet Laureate of the Vietnam War, unofficial only to those who think they have retained the right to award such an honor. Steven Mason won it hands down in the minds of Vietnam veterans and any others who knew first-hand the experience of war – of fighting for reasons you never...

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