Commentaries

When I heard the news of Justice John Paul Stevens’s death, I'd just finished teaching a summer course on the U.S. Supreme Court. 

This commentary will last a total of two and a half minutes. That is, I have 425 words to make my point. It isn’t much.

There's a woman I've worked with who never stops moving. She might visit the program office in the morning for a few minutes. Then she’s out the door, two or three shopping bags full of belongings on her arm.

We need to sign up for summer camp! I forgot to send that permission slip! Increasing drought means global unrest and potential war! We're out of laundry detergent!

Walking in a forest on a gusty day, I see lots of dead wood — branches snapping off trees, trees snapping in two — and I think of how productive these trees are. 

Improbably, one of the triggers that brings my father to mind is herring. 

I was called one morning to substitute for a Latin teacher. I never studied Latin, so I was grateful she left me thorough lesson plans for the day. 

Most of us know it’s good to talk about our feelings. 

I first met Jerrie Cobb two decades ago at a space shuttle launch. Tall, lanky, unassuming, a person of few words — Jerrie was all but invisible to people intent on watching the countdown clock.

Seventy-five years ago, on May 1, 1944, a unique group of American soldiers boarded transports at Hampton Roads, Virginia.  

When I first began camping, it seemed like so much work. 

Every night, I cuddle with my preschooler and I tell him he’s my prince. Not just my prince — “Mera shehaazda.”

A recent survey conducted by Smith College found that only a meager 3 percent of students identify as “conservative.” From over 1,000 respondents, only two identified as “very conservative.”

Floating in a wooden boat soothes the soul.

Birds in winter may be drab, like us, but they're there.

Among the numerous worrisome aspects of Donald Trump’s ascendance to the presidency is the resurgence of anti-Semitism.

This Valentine's Day, I am heartless, a condition that also describes New England Confectionery Company, or Necco — the maker of Sweetheart candy, those small, chalky, heart-shaped confections that flood candy counters this time of year.

Happy (belated) Public Domain Day!  Welcome, public, to 1923! Welcome, 1923, to the public domain!  

While I’m not a fan of most of Betsy DeVos’s reforms, when it comes to Title IX, I’m in full support.

Maybe I’m just a rube.

We in Massachusetts need to address an issue that for decades has compromised our standing as an educational leader. Despite the strides we’ve made, our education system is not properly serving all our students.

Standing on top of Mt. Holyoke, I can see Mt. Greylock to the west, and Mt. Monadnock to the north.

Early in the morning or late at night, even in the most crowded times between classes, it is nearly impossible to approach an entranceway without someone holding the door open to let a nearby someone in.

A household name across the country, Josiah Gilbert Holland sold over a half-million copies of his books in his lifetime.

The Armistice ended what was called the Great War, or the War to End All Wars. The latter name didn’t stick. The war was eventually renamed World War I.

You’ve seen them, no doubt.  Those solitary corn stalks standing alone in a field. 

Shortly after the Fourth of July, I began flying the American flag from my front porch. Ever since, a 3-by-5 foot flag has waved on my street in Montague, Massachusetts. 

“A woman in the shape of a monster / A monster in the shape of a woman / The skies are full of them.”

I show my classes a picture of a bottle of Budweiser, and in the way they respond to it -- Budweiser, ugh! -- it strikes me that the landscape of American beer has changed a lot in the 20-odd years since I reached legal drinking age. 

A search-and-rescue team carried me down on a stretcher. They hoisted me high up into the trail’s hemlock and spruce so I was surrounded by their needles and resin.