The Amish girl behind the counter at the Farmer’s Market views me with puzzlement as I take a photo of the bags of flour in her stall. But when I make my purchase, she gives me her usual parting words, “Have a great deh.”
While packing today, I come across two figurines in my bureau drawer. I have long forgotten why I put them there. But they make an odd combination: Horus and Batman.
I sit down in a new sanctuary – recently built and new to me. I lift my eyes to the front of the sanctuary and there I see a cross unlike any other I have seen. For it is made entirely of light.
On the way to see my son’s new office in Harrisonburg, Virginia, we walk past a sculpture that captures the dismay I feel about the latest school shooting.
When I want a feel for a town, I don’t head for Main Street. That’s for the tourists and TripAdvisor junkies. For me, nothing gives an unvarnished feel for a place like an alley.
Wedged between a large man and the plane window, I wonder where else in our society a person has to have constant contact with a stranger for four straight hours.