Interstate 80 stretches like a spine across the commonwealth’s equator. Just a few degrees north of Pennsylvania’s actual axis of latitudinal symmetry, the bituminous byway traces parallel paths of two- or three-lane highway across the white ash graveyards of our westerly neighbor. As is now standard across the federal interstate highway system, I-80’s exit numbersContinue reading “The Former Things That Have Passed Away”
Behold! The unheralded life arc of a scrap of iron ore. No pomp, no circumstance. Handled by a hundred human hands, regarded by none.
In the last dozen years we have been on the receiving end of any number of solicitations to move away from New Jersey. Many of them are lighthearted and congenial daydreams from the lips of sincere friends. We reply to these with an earnest measure of flattery, affirmation, and/or acknowledgment.
An Ode to the Sassafras
I was raking in the backyard last night at twilight, and the corner of my eye caught what I took to be a firefly…
Pruning whispers a metaphor every spring, but this year it seemed to grab me by the face and look me directly in the eyes.
My younger daughter spent a considerable amount of time (I am told) writing this note for me the other day. She was so obviously pleased with herself and her tiny correspondence that she met me at the front door and wriggled like Christmas morning as she told me where in the house to find the note
It can hardly but sober a man to consider how he will be remembered after he at last shuffles off this mortal coil. Will he, in that dim light of dusk on Jordan’s bank, depart in the assurance that he done all, lived all, loved all that he could? Will he, when his works become manifest on that Day and are tested by fire, have anything to show for that which he toiled under the sun? Did he, as Moses prayed, number his days aright?
I distinctly remember the year when my parents first switched to an artificial Christmas tree. We were living in a small farmhouse at the time, and the only display space afforded our preeminent yuletide decoration was in a room that also contained a wood stove. Despite my father’s dogged determination to beat back the pervasiveContinue reading “Christmas in the Shadowlands”