Say the word “Muslim” these days, especially “American Muslim,” and many people get jittery. The antidote to this jitteriness, I’m convinced, is to get to know lots of American Muslims, in all their variety, all their individualities. And there’s no better place to start—or to continue—than by reading Kazim Ali’s new book, Fasting for Ramadan.…

There is no more divisive topic in Christendom than the music we employ to worship the creator of the universe. We may co-exist in uneasy unity in the midst of our differing views of the Eucharist, or baptism, or Rob Bell, but nothing predicts a surefire church schism more accurately than a preening church organist…

As I write this, Mother’s Day is nearly upon us. It can be a painful day for some women who are my age or older, and, like me, childless. For me, the day doesn’t arouse any emotion other than regret that once again I’ve failed to get a card for my mom. My husband and…

In my last post I remembered how The Muppet Movie begins. Kermit the Frog leaves the swamp to follow his dream. As American dreams go, Kermit’s is unselfish. He hopes for singing, dancing, creativity, laughter in order to bring people happiness. He welcomes a parade of colorful, kindred spirits: A bear who fancies himself a…

Plunk-ah PLUNK-AH PLUNK-AH Plunk-ah PLUNNG! It may be the simplest pop-song hook I’ve ever heard. I can hum Bach concertos, Beethoven anthems, and every melody Bono ever sang. I recognize almost any hook the Beatles and the Stones ever threw down. But that little string of banjo notes is the most evocative line of music…

It’s a galling irony that I am frequently asked to speak to young people, to tell them something about life, and what I have learned in mine, and what they should therefore go and do with theirs. It is an irony because my life feels like a slow-moving disaster, and most nights all I can…

As I write, my dog Buddy is nestled next to me, wrapped in an afghan, asleep. It is a rare moment, this silence, the sweetness of my dog sleeping next to me, his quiet breath punctuating the air. I don’t know how to write about a dog without sounding dorky or mushy, but I know…

You probably know these people. You may even be these people. The Flahertys and the Hepples. Mike and Jackie, and Tom and Gerri. Two couples, happily married. They own their homes. They’ve got good reputations in the community. They love their kids. And if misfortune knocks, they open the door. The Flahertys live in New…

Even though I’m terrible with numbers, I can understand and appreciate multi-variable algebra, because I feel it’s a lot like reading: you are trying to solve for X based on its relationship to other known variables. Reading Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast I was struck by the algebraic nature of his writing, especially in his chapter…

We know her simply as “Maureen.” She has become a treasured member of the Good Letters community with her frequent and always thoughtful comments on our posts. But now we can know her further: through her own poetry, recently collected in the volume Neruda’s Memoirs. Now, too, we meet her by her full name: Maureen…