My grandmother was a tough lady. In all the years I knew her, I only saw her cry twice. The first time was when my brother was murdered. The second was when she told me what it was like to

When I first read The Grapes of Wrath, I was sixteen or seventeen, and I only came to it because the book was assigned reading in a literature class I was taking in school. At the time, my only knowledge

So, I’m at it again, reading The Grapes of Wrath for what is probably just shy of the tenth time. Could be the eighth. Or the ninth. But whatever the number, those readings have taken place over more than forty

Then again, there’s always a “but…” I’ve taken pains to make the case that running is the “proper” writing addiction, but I have not made the claim that it is the perfect writing addiction, nor will I. For all its

I was fortunate enough in college to have been in an English program with truly outstanding professors. One of the most brilliant of these was Professor H. Renowned in her field, Professor H was as hard-nosed as they come. She