With small but steady hands, the care of a surgeon, I bring my Swiss Army knife to the center of my latest subject: a faded green rabbit of matted velveteen…
…the sound of a deer approaching is like a pulse: equal parts soft thudding clod and ground shake. For a moment, you think it might be a heartbeat. You think it might be your own.
I haven’t attended Mass since before I got sick. It’s not that I’ve ever been a particularly religious person, but I did spend some time on the playground of the Catholic Church.
Most amateur genealogists manage something less than the accounting of Solomon Grundy, of English nursery rhyme fame. Assembling names and dates into a database…