I was watching our seven-year-old son who had been playing a long time, rolling Matchbox cars across “roads” in the den rug’s intricate patterns and blowing car noises through his lips. When I said . .
Summer wanes, and the start of the academic year is around the corner at my university. As a child, I wished the summer months away, eager to return to school. Buying notebooks and new tennis shoes . . .
Historian Jennifer Woodruff Tait and her professor husband see a critical need for the study of history, but find the modern academic system all but incompatible with family life.
This post is not a Pollyanna-esque rambling about spreading smiles all over the world. It's not an abstract inspirational piece with little practical application. This post is a description . . .
Many of my dreams are an odd jumble of scenes. Someone with an interest in dream interpretation would likely have a field day sorting through the images . . .
