White Space in my Head Space
This morning I lay in bed for a few quiet moments before I had to get up and start herding cats (actually, cat singular) to church.
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Blog
When good friends don’t like good books
Recently two very good friends — women I have swapped many a book title with — disliked two books that I love. This was shocking to me, in a disproportionate kind of way. One book was Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. The other was All the Light we Cannot See by Anthony Doerr.
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In the dark in Cambodia
My sister Miriam and I were walking down a dusty street in Poipot, a border town in Cambodia, with Thailand a stones-throw away, when the darkest moment in our trip took place.
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One shelf. Two books. Lessons learned.
With little book arms and little book hands, the two books I was involved with that were published this year could have reached out and touched each other. I stumbled upon them at Wycliffe College’s bookstore, and, very quickly, before the hip-looking young woman at the counter could catch me, snapped a shot of them.
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What other stories can we tell?
“What other stories can we tell?” That’s what my great Uncle Barry said yesterday as he sat in his wheelchair in a room in a nursing home in Hamilton. We were on a quest, my cousin Janet and I, to dig up some family stories we might not have heard before.
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