Re-Freshing
It would be irresponsible and cruelly glib to imply that the Covid-19 pandemic wasn’t difficult, and that the results haven’t produced fear, anger and for so many, tragedy. Those things are all true. Whether it’s Covid, a natural disaster or human-caused, loss of livelihood, loss of well-being and even loss of life are real and

Stealing Stories
As I get older, I find I read more biographies. I guess when you have more road behind you than ahead of you, you get more interested in other folk’s perspectives on the walk. I am always amazed when I read about writers and storytellers I admire. From Shakespeare to J.K. Rowling, they all talk

No Boundaries
When I was 9, the walls of my bedroom were covered, but not with hot rods or my favorite Mouseketeers. They hosted 24″ x 36″ illustrations of every rocket then in the US fleet. Redstone, Atlas, Titan, Agena, and Saturn-I framed my passionate determination to go to space. Werner Von Braun and the Mercury 7
Poetry Is Essential
Poetry is to language what a fine brandy is to grape juice. It is refined, distilled, and concentrated. It has strength and potency and at the same time it’s subtle. A poem invites deliberate contemplation and promises to tantalize, awaken, satisfy and warm and, at the same time, to provoke leaving behind an echo that

The Next Normal
My grandparents never completely let go of the Great Depression. Mistrust of banks, obsessive frugality and a pervasive hyper-vigilance persisted for the rest of their lives-which in my Grandmother’s case extended well into the 1990s. The Great Depression, War, pandemic, hurricanes, economic recessions flat tires and hangnails all represent human inflection points. Our mental model of

Scrooge’s Gift
“Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind-stone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose,
Logo and Web Design by Olivia Rae | oliviaraecreative