Dear New Jersey: A Letter from an Old Friend in Italy

That little voice in my head that reminds me to dig out my car keys before I’m standing alone in a poorly lit parking lot is poking at me, in the ribs, in the heart, in the head – has my home state lost its street smarts? Is it giving some invisible lurker the advantage?

The Birth of a Blog: Soft-boiled Silence on Toast

I tried to speak again but all of the inspiration in my mind couldn’t move beyond the basement of my brain – disconnected concepts, butterflies with only one wing, angels with ankles of lead, and despite my penchant for nature and spirituality rather than mechanics, there was even an airplane with only one sputtering engine. Not a single thought could get off the ground, into action or powered by my voice.