the Writer’s Almanac On Apple Podcasts
The country seems divided and so it takes forever to get basic stuff done and the sniping is ferocious and politicians don’t dare exhibit humor in public. As they say in Denmark, “Shut up and be beautiful.” I think about the beef taco I had for lunch and the salad with fresh tomato and basil, a very self-accepting cucumber, and a beautiful sliced onion, not a bitter resentful onion but an exuberant one. I think it may have started out as a cabbage but it transferred out of the program, wanting to be a root, and met other onions, experimented with different dressings and finally settled on straight oil/vinegar with ground pepper. I used to have countless readers and now here we are, the two of us, peas in a pod. I’ve never suffered from anxiety, I don’t know any QAnon people and I don’t have COVID, so I am going to skip complaining today. There is a limit to how much punishment people are willing to accept before they look around and consider greener pastures and meanwhile, in St. Paul, people thronged to the State Fair, devouring cheese curds and bratwursts, admiring the livestock and enjoying powerful centrifugal experiences.
She also publishedHospital Sketches, which was based on her experiences as an Army nurse in Washington, D.C., during the Civil War. Her first literary success came with the semi-autobiographicalLittle Women, and the money she made provided her father with his first taste of financial security. She never favored the domestic, value-laden type of writing that made her famous. What she really loved was writing lurid Gothic romances, a fondness that traced back to her childhood acting out stories with her sisters; she wrote three of the thrillers under the pen name “A.M. Barnard.” Two were published in her lifetime; the third —A Long Fatal Love Chase— was written in 1866, but was rejected as being too sensational.
Resettlement could be redemptive, showing that the bearded bullies with ammo belts don’t represent the best of a people. Art and learning do, and folk tradition, and the bonds of language, the food, the music and poetry. Leave religion to personal preference and enjoy the rest. When a city is flooded by tourists over a long period of time, as New York has been, they turn the place into a cartoon, and the last time I walked down to Little Italy, it was no more Italian than Domino’s Pizza or Venetian blinds or your aunt Florence.
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