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  • In light of recent events in the political sphere, here’s a page from the book I’m writing, 52 Words for Hope. Belonging She was black and I was white and we were lesbians in racially-torn Boston. We were walking down bustling Tremont Street, holding hands, when a......

  • Essay originally published by Evening Street Review, Number 17, Autumn 2017 As a bi-racial lesbian couple in 1982 Catholic Boston, friends were hard to come by. So when a neighbor invited us for dinner, Anita and I sprang for Heineken and ran to her door. There......

  • Get ready for one of those platitudes you’ll probably hate: WE ARE WHAT WE THINK ABOUT. Annoying, right? It’s one of those Buddhist-y, Oprah-esque sayings spouted by people with hot tubs and enough time to sit around contemplating abstractions. You know, privileged people like me.......

  • I am loath to admit it but—I’ve grown numb. It’s been over 7 months since the election and the initial tsunami of disbelief, horror, fear and sadness has faded. It seems I’ve moved through the five stages of grief and landed at a glassy-eyed gauze of resignation, if......

  • Yesterday, Mr. Trump offered a rare piece of honesty, “I thought [being president] would be easier.” I was on my way home, stuck on Highway 17, when I heard the admission and a tight little howl filled my car. With my jaw on the floor,......

  • Years ago, I used to meditate every day. I enjoyed it. I’d light a candle, curl up on the couch, take a few deep breaths and twenty, thirty, forty minutes later get up feeling nourished and enlivened, ready to take on the day. Not any......

  • Nine weeks have passed since the Inauguration and once, twice, thirty-seven times a day I hear something infuriating. Today’s insanity? A health care plan that plans to not take care of people’s health. Every day there’s another vortex that sucks me up, whirls me around......

  • Maintaining a glass-is-half-full mentality is tough these days. An unstable, narcissistic bully with the worldview of a second grader is running the show and I’m writing a blog called Chronicle of Joy. Give me a frickin’ break. I’m even annoying myself. But, here’s the thing:......

  • Feeling powerless sucks. That’s how I felt in the wake of the election. Helpless, impotent, victimized. Cast aside and silenced. With news of the Women’s March on Washington, the fog began to lift. There was something I could do—yank off the muzzle and kick some ass. A cross-country flight......

  • Turns out, I’m a patriot. I had no idea. Fourteen days ago, Donald Trump became my president and the depth of my anguish has surprised me. I wake up to a fog of dread and fall asleep spent from worry. Things that used to matter—like the......

  • Welcome to Chronicle of Joy. I’ve launched this new website—and an emailed newsletter—because the world has gone mad and I need to write about it. Some writers are satisfied scribbling in a diary. Not me. I, sadly, feel compelled to share. So, I’ve built this stage and you......

  • He’s stolen my NPR, my Rachel Maddow, my blessed Sunday mornings with the New York Times. I can’t do any of it anymore. What am I to do with all this time? This morning, the New York Times arrived on my doorstop as it has......