a radio was on.

When I was young, I always began Halloween with aspirations to fill my entire pillowcase with candy.  We lived in a neighborhood simply crammed with streets, with houses upon houses, all set close to one another, almost all of them, really every one, with a bright light on, signifying yes, this house was participating in Halloween.  You could knock on a stranger's door and take the Three Musketeers bar, or the Tootsie Roll, or the Lifesavers, and it was okay.  Unlike all the other times in the seventies, when a stranger offering you candy signified danger.  Which is not to say that strangers with candy are any less dangerous, but for many of us, we mitigate the risks for our children with our presence.  In my seventies, we children were often alone, walking to school alone, walking to the playground alone, biking to the pool, coming home from Girl Scouts, trick-or-treating with friends--alone.  Our mothers worked or didn't work, but we weren't chauffeured to activities, we

When I was young, I always began Halloween with aspirations to fill my entire pillowcase with candy.  We lived in a neighborhood simply crammed with streets, with houses upon houses, all set close to one another, almost all of them, really every one, with a bright light on, signifying yes, this house was participating in Halloween.  You could knock on a stranger's door and take the Three Musketeers bar, or the Tootsie Roll, or the Lifesavers, and it was okay.  Unlike all the other times in the seventies, when a stranger offering you candy signified danger.  Which is not to say that strangers with candy are any less dangerous, but for many of us, we mitigate the risks for our children with our presence.  In my seventies, we children were often alone, walking to school alone, walking to the playground alone, biking to the pool, coming home from Girl Scouts, trick-or-treating with friends--alone.  Our mothers worked or didn't work, but we weren't chauffeured to activities, we

Listen to this. No, first a photo.   This is a Viking ship, the Oseberg ship, which was found in a burial mound in Norway.  Inside the ship were two women, two skeletons, almost certainly of exalted status because of the nature of the burial. The year was 834.  One woman was 80 years old, arthritic, dressed in a red wool dress, with a twill pattern, wearing a veil of white linen.  One woman was in her 50s, wearing a blue wool dress, with a wool veil.  Blue dress woman had Morgagni's syndrome, which would have given her a masculine appearance and the ability to grow a beard.   No one can say with certainty, but some scholars believe the older woman, whose dress may belie higher social status than the woman in the blue dress, is Queen Asa of the Yngling clan, mother of Halfdan the Black.  Others think she was a shaman. The younger woman used a metal toothpick, which was rare and a luxury in the 9th century.  Both had diets composed of meat, another luxury when most Vikings made do wi

Listen to this. No, first a photo.   This is a Viking ship, the Oseberg ship, which was found in a burial mound in Norway.  Inside the ship were two women, two skeletons, almost certainly of exalted status because of the nature of the burial. The year was 834.  One woman was 80 years old, arthritic, dressed in a red wool dress, with a twill pattern, wearing a veil of white linen.  One woman was in her 50s, wearing a blue wool dress, with a wool veil.  Blue dress woman had Morgagni's syndrome, which would have given her a masculine appearance and the ability to grow a beard.   No one can say with certainty, but some scholars believe the older woman, whose dress may belie higher social status than the woman in the blue dress, is Queen Asa of the Yngling clan, mother of Halfdan the Black.  Others think she was a shaman. The younger woman used a metal toothpick, which was rare and a luxury in the 9th century.  Both had diets composed of meat, another luxury when most Vikings made do wi

 Part of me just assumed I would get old and die a grandmother, a great-grandmother.  I would be old and small and round, and bake cookies and write poetry and insist upon certain grammar rules.  I would magically have a house by the sea, and I would die in a magically white bedroom, with the white linen curtains blowing in the gentle wind, and the sound of the waves breaking on the sand.  I wouldn't be worried about climate change and no one with the last name Trump would be president.   Before I got sick, I tried to think my worries into protection--I bet you do this, too.  If I could conceive of it, that would somehow protect me and my children from "it" actually happening.  If one of the kids was late coming home in high school, I would lie in the dark and imagine how their inevitable death by [drunk driver, serial killer, choking on a large piece of apple (I can't quite lose my anxiety about this one, despite the fact that my youngest are now certainly old enough

 Part of me just assumed I would get old and die a grandmother, a great-grandmother.  I would be old and small and round, and bake cookies and write poetry and insist upon certain grammar rules.  I would magically have a house by the sea, and I would die in a magically white bedroom, with the white linen curtains blowing in the gentle wind, and the sound of the waves breaking on the sand.  I wouldn't be worried about climate change and no one with the last name Trump would be president.   Before I got sick, I tried to think my worries into protection--I bet you do this, too.  If I could conceive of it, that would somehow protect me and my children from "it" actually happening.  If one of the kids was late coming home in high school, I would lie in the dark and imagine how their inevitable death by [drunk driver, serial killer, choking on a large piece of apple (I can't quite lose my anxiety about this one, despite the fact that my youngest are now certainly old enough

"We're all just walking each other home."  Ram Dass I've talked about darkness before in these pages.  I like to think about what darkness was like for the Puritans, in particular, who came to this vast, uncharted country and had no idea what lurked in the dark woods, what manner of creature.  If a tall, dark man lingered at the edge of the field, it could be Satan.  Of course, that's still true.  But I think it meant differently then.  No one living in this country, what we now think of as a country, had the puzzle shape map of the United States in their heads.  You might live near an ocean, but you would never see the ocean bordering the other side of the land, thousands of miles away. The darkness of caves.  I went into caves as a child, but I don't think I could now.  I don't like to think I'm afraid of that deep, irreproachable darkness, but I know I am afraid of the borders being too close. My stomach hurts when I think about crawling through a s

"We're all just walking each other home."  Ram Dass I've talked about darkness before in these pages.  I like to think about what darkness was like for the Puritans, in particular, who came to this vast, uncharted country and had no idea what lurked in the dark woods, what manner of creature.  If a tall, dark man lingered at the edge of the field, it could be Satan.  Of course, that's still true.  But I think it meant differently then.  No one living in this country, what we now think of as a country, had the puzzle shape map of the United States in their heads.  You might live near an ocean, but you would never see the ocean bordering the other side of the land, thousands of miles away. The darkness of caves.  I went into caves as a child, but I don't think I could now.  I don't like to think I'm afraid of that deep, irreproachable darkness, but I know I am afraid of the borders being too close. My stomach hurts when I think about crawling through a s

Liminal space is a space between spaces.  Perhaps liminal spaces have borders; if they do, we might imagine the liminal as a border, then a space, then another border.  For example: life, border, liminal space, border, death.   I don't know--that feels like too many borders, because of course, borders conjure up gates and walls, and even, these days, border patrols and children caged. I imagine these borders between life and death are porous, the moonlight leaking through.   My dear friend Robin is in a liminal space right now.  She has been in hospice care for some time.  I visited her--really my family visited her, on different occasions.  Zoe brought her doodle puppy to meet Robin--Robin's daughter Jenny has a doodle puppy too, and then Robin has a stately older doodle, who had a dignified presence the puppies had not grown into.  The dogs tumbled and barked and peed on the floor, and Robin held court.  Avery and Angelo came another time, and Robin plied them with food. She