An Italian-American Writer & Poet with a Yankee Outsider Perspective
More on the Labyrinth: According to Edith Hamilton, expert on Mythology, King Minos of Crete had the great architect Daedalus build a labyrinth around a nasty secret: his wife had fallen in love with a beautiful bull, given him by … Continued
Margotlog: The Labyrinth and Ferrara In Crete, a king secreted a bull in the middle of a labyrinth. Captured maidens sent in to dance with the bull flung themselves over his horns, but eventually the bull trampled them, for once … Continued
So many kinds of racism, so many ways it hides or shows its true colors. In the Southern United States, with its centuries of enslaving Africans and Native Americans, white settlers, then citizens developed intricate, deep, subtle but often overt … Continued
“Don’t say such a thing in public,” I can almost hear him admonish. Yet, when I think back, piece together his behavior, that becomes the simple conclusion. Racial prejudice nearly ate him alive. He could have been worse. As far … Continued
In 1988, the Twin Cities went six weeks without rain, from mid-May to the early July. Usually June is one of our wettest months. We had bought our 1912 house several years before; it was bare of greenery except for … Continued
That restroom paper towel: what do you do with it? I’ve been tracking trash. Since the flu scare last year, I try to put either glove or paper towel between my hand and a public door handle. Thus, after drying … Continued
My father, the classroom professional, instructed us in manners, in American presidents, in Southern secession (after he, the boy from Pittsburgh, learned it himself). He also tried to teach us an ancient, musical, time-keeping method which I pull from memory … Continued
Often the items we save from the past have become icons; meaning had streamed into them. So I have brought from South Carolina my parents’ photos from BB. “before babies” as my mother used to say. My father, Leonard Henry … Continued
Moon Snail, plucked from low tide at Edisto Island winters ago–the kid still in kindergarten. Its curve has the sinuous appeal of a Pre-Raphaelite madonna, borrowed from Islam. Lately this beach, once so empty of humans except ourselves, has lost … Continued
Here’s where the generation divides: Those who think it’s easy as pie to leave a comment on a blog, and those who pause, scratch the proverbial pate, and give up. Do not despair: my mother learned to drive way over … Continued