Blogging Through The Leftovers: Season Two, Episode One

Courtesy of HBO

What happens when the life you’ve lived suddenly changes? How do you have hope when everything you’d built and hoped for disappears? Can life ever be good again?

These are some of the questions that The Leftovers posed in it’s debut last year. The show’s second season. which began on Sunday, continues to explore these questions while adding another: in this world, can we ever be safe? The answer, as of Episode One, is probably not. [Spoilers below] Continue reading

The Growing Season: Feeling Like a Good Mom

The next morning I’m filling Mirabelle in on our trip. If I prayed more often, I would probably spend more time considering the similarity between that and talking to Mirabelle; namely, telling someone what they already know. But she smiles and nods at my stories, particularly at my excitement over Matt’s promising relationship.

“Are you and your brother very close?” she asks.

I think about it, how that question could be answered differently at different points in my life, on different days even. But the fact is, we have been a pretty consistently good team over the years.

“Yeah, we are,” I say. “I mean, we don’t talk every day or anything like that, but we get along well and have always had each other’s backs. He’s a couple of years younger than I am, but one time in high school he didn’t let that stand in the way of nearly getting into a fight with a guy who dumped me. He waited by the guy’s car after school with a group of friends and called him—well, never mind what he called him, but it wasn’t nice.” Continue reading

Photo Phriday: The Block and the Stoop

Lately my morning walks to the office lead me past a structure that once served as a homeless shelter. The large building now boasts luxury apartments after the shelter sold the structure to a developer and moved across town to a building that could ostensibly better meet the homeless community’s needs. It often strikes me that newcomers who flock to inhabit the minted apartments piling above this block may not know its history, as traces of its past started to be erased two years ago when the cranes came.

Redevelopment, per se, isn’t a bad thing- it can energize the community and galvanize new connections, new friendships, new beginnings. However, on this particular block, does it? And have we forgotten those who once lived there, who have nowhere to call their own home? What new histories will form?

Continue reading

2016 Nominee Haikus: Part 1

Before I get to haiku-ing the comically crowded field of nominees for 2016 president, note that the order in which said nominees are being haikued is based strictly on the odds from Bovada and not from personal, political, or poetic preference. So yes, that’s why Lyndon LaRouche isn’t on here.

Hillary Clinton

Dems, let me have

This one and you can choose Bill’s

Inaugural gown


Donald Trump

Democratic plant?

Real GOP candidate?

Only the hair knows…


Jeb Bush

Possible slogan:

“Vote Bush for prez. Again.

Third time’s a charm, right?”


Bernie Sanders

Possible slogan:

“I’m not Hillary Clinton.

Thank you for your time”


Joe Biden

Run for prez again?

Or ride into the sunset

On sweet, sweet Amtrak?


Marco Rubio

Swing state appeal? Check.

Latino vote? Check. Jeb’s

Vice President? Check.


[Insert Democratic Alternative Here]

Seriously guys

Anyone interested? Ugh.

Sit down, O’Malley.


The Abandoned Lighthouse Part 3

This is the third installment of a novella that was started over two years ago. Sometimes it takes a while for inspiration to strike. For previous installments click here and here.

Martha Lazarus had taken over her family’s tavern when her father died twenty years ago. Her sister Mary had left Warm Shores for university and never came back, settling down on the mainland as a literature professor. That was all she knew of the little girl whose room, secrets, and clothes she’d shared for years. Mary had always dreamed of getting off the island. In some ways, that’s all Mary had ever done her whole life–dreamed. While she and Martha would help her parents out with the tavern, Mary would come up with all kinds of imaginative stories. Her ability to play make-believe seemed limitless, so it was no wonder that the boundaries of their small island wouldn’t be able to hold her.

But Martha had been the practical one. She wanted to go off to school, but had settled down with Joe Lazarus, her high school sweetheart, instead. Joe and Martha had four children together before Joe’s boat capsized on a mail run to the mainland. All of her children except for the youngest, Mary-Ann, were content to remain close to home. But Mary-Ann was a lot like her namesake and Martha could tell that she also found island life too confining. She could tell it would be a matter of time before Mary-Ann left too.

That night as Old John shared his concerns about the lighthouse, she wrestled with her own feelings. The brightly-lit beacon seemed to shed light not just on the island, but on thoughts long-buried beneath years of neglect. It had been easy to dismiss the feelings of regret that she hadn’t left the island or pursued her passions like Mary when leaving meant no hope of return. But that light. The thrill it stirred in her soul when she’d look at it seemed to illuminate the smallness of the life she’d chosen. Had her fear of life outside Warm Shores kept her from pursuing her own dreams? She loved her family and her community, but…no. She shook her head. That kind of thinking was just as seditious as talk of the mayor. Continue reading