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Powers and Principalities, Part 2
Washington, DC in early spring can be lovely: forsythia and daffodils in tiny front stoop gardens layered with the scent of reawakening rosemary. All-day meetings are dreary enough with endless reports and dull action items talked over in windowless rooms, but they’re torture to those who know what beauty beckons outside. It was a relief, then....
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Powers and Principalities, Part 1
The Washington Metro’s Blue Line, northbound from Reagan National Airport, takes a looping approach to the District, past the Pentagon and Arlington National Cemetery. I was on my way to meetings near and at the U.S. Capitol, in the city named for the man who, as commanding general, knew better than most how only two institutions constituted....
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Welcome, Memory
We were having dinner at a friend’s house: a gathering of colleagues enjoying one another’s company with good food, relaxed conversation, a glass of wine. While we spoke of neighborhoods, children, and schools, it dawned on me that my friend, Doug, lived just doors from my grandparents’ old house. My grandparents are now long dead, and they moved from....
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A Writer's Lent
Is it possible to recognize my neighbor’s faults unless I’m similarly wounded? The damnable fruit, after all, comes from a tree of knowledge of good and evil. I can spot a hypocrite because I have been one. To sense the shape of fear means I am afraid. Prejudice is a sickness I know from the inside—all too well. That’s where my thoughts eventually led me after....
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No Room at the Internet
I didn’t play King Herod this year. That role—which my father occupied in my youth and is now all mine!—is a coveted cameo in our family’s annual Epiphany play, full of transparently feigned concern for the welfare of an unexpected (and for Herod, most unwanted) newborn king. Regrettably, we had no....
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Current Issue
Issue 72
Memoir by Lauren Winner, Poetry by James Harpur, Art by Guy Chase and Adrian Wiszniewski
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