The morning began with the pale, clean light that seems to belong uniquely to reclaimed land. I set out at a jog, keeping to the periphery of Urayasu's peninsula, circling the edge where land and
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The power in my town goes out at 2:15 p.m. every day, but it's not about the power.
It's about what disappears with it. The whirr of the fan, the static of old FM radio, the illusion of time
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Menopause is an unraveling. All the selves I knew, shed upon the floor in sloughed off skins from which I step out gingerly, naked.
They tell me I am invisible now. Is that another word for free?
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Everyone knows how to take a bath, right?
I thought I did, until I visited Japan for the first time.
Japan has elevated bathing to an art form, complete with accoutrements like wooden buckets
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Deep in the heart of Central Java, tucked between rolling green hills and sprawling rice fields, lay the quiet village of Banyumas. Life moved slowly there—too slowly for Darto, a twelve-year-old
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My father was a writer. He wrote articles, short stories, children's books, and satires. Short, sharp, funny parodies like, I'm Okay, but You're Not So Hot, and the literary scavengers' answer to
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Many years ago, I worked as a film and television extra for a few months. Interspersed with temporary jobs at insurance companies and accounting firms, the onscreen background work paid no more than
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There is a large box in the custodian's office in the elementary school where I work. It is labeled "for lizards only." It has never been used to catch a lizard. Or anything else, fo
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It was 1962, Wichita, Kansas. My Dad surveyed the front yard—a very big front yard, a grim look on his face.
"Weeds," he pronounced sullenly, as if our front yard had become the equivalent of a
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PONOS was the personified Greek spirit of hard labor and toil.
The wide, gravel path snaked through a scrub meadow joining two working-class neighborhoods. Every kid in the neighborhood walked
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I don't remember which I encountered first: Helene Hanff's book, 84 Charing Cross Road, or the Anne Bancroft / Anthony Hopkins movie of the same name. All I know is that decades later the title's
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It wasn't fair. EJ had found him, brought him home, set up a comfy, warm bed of hay in the basement; she'd even named him. But from our first encounter on that cold January night, Mister Peepers only
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Everyone receives gifts they neither need nor want—bath salts for people who only shower, a frilly nightgown wrapped up for someone who sleeps in sweatpants, that 27th tie . . . Sometimes we return
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It was 1984 and we were pretending to be spies. It was one of those "adult" games that twists your arm to mingle. Our host, David, greeted us at the door with a card that had ou
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I met Mia for the first time at my tennis club. A small Chinese woman with dark brown eyes and short-cropped black hair, she greeted me with a heavy Chinese accent. "Are you Ken?" she asked. To my
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Not for me, that pallid substitute in January with its noisemakers and forgotten resolutions. My calendar resets annually with the opening of classroom doors, no
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