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Hunches On Childhood

(Or Everything I Want To Say About World Peace)

The way we hold our children is the way we hold our future.

The House Of Esperanza

Esperanza had informally inherited the house from Salvador Escondido, her husband by common law, who one morning kissed her goodbye at the door, left for work in the fields, and never came back.

Parting Words

Though several members of my childhood family have died, the passing of all but two of them took place unexpectedly and at a distance, and I was not able to say goodbye. On two occasions I was there, the dying spoke to me, and their conversation was memorable. Their last words to me seemed a summary of their lives and a way of giving me a part of themselves that would remain in the world after they had left it.

Time Out

Lost Opportunities

Time with family, an interview with Todd Rundgren, a suicide attempt

When Prayer Is Impossible

I show my mercy toward my screaming baby son by cuddling him; Mary shows hers by cuddling him at times, and poking him with that damned needle at other times. My mercy is made only of light; Mary’s is made of light and darkness and so it is larger and encloses mine.

Turning

What I Do Best

A self-imposed Cultural Revolution, a grandmother to people of all ages, a to-do list

Quilt On My Bed

Morning Rituals

Wandering the fields, rendezvousing in a cowshed, getting out the paper dolls