To See Their Names and Their Faces

The display is the small but the perfect size for a historical society in a county that has only one stop light.  Yet, it spoke with a roar when I saw it – hand-sewn dolls with black fabric skin and calico dresses.  Women in long aprons in front of log houses...

The Gift of Gravestones

We’re standing in the cemetery.  Dad takes a seat on the low wall at the edge, and I walk with P over to Primus’s gravestone.  I’ve never introduced them before.  It’s about time they met.   I clear away the oak leaves buried at the base of his...

Books I Keep Meaning to Read – A Top Ten

I read a lot. A lot a lot.  Ask P.  And I try to read widely – in culture, in gender, in time period. Yet, there are still these books – some sitting on my shelves right here in the farmhouse – that I just haven’t gotten to.  You know the ones?...