From time to time, things we have done that we should not have done are brought to our attention. I’m not talking about things we remember; I’m talking about things we don’t. These are things that we not only have no memory of, but also cannot truly fathom a response for. And when we are…

How many times have you heard the admonition “Don’t be a hero” in any given circumstance involving danger? To the extent it’s meant as a caution against foolhardiness and the kind of bravado sought for bravado’s sake, it’s wise advice. There’s nothing praiseworthy in risking your life and others’ when the object is impossible or…

When I leave early in the morning for work, I often pass Eleanor Rigby. She is coming, I am going; her day ending as mine begins. She never looks at me as we pass, but I look at her. Mostly what I see is through the glass of her windshield, but I occasionally pass her…

Whenever I pass old buildings with bricked up windows, I shake my head. Of all the architectural sins of the modern world, it’s the sealing of ingress and egress that bugs me the most. I can put up with glass boxes and weird shapes and wild uses of steel. Sometimes that’s part of the profession’s…

I once saw a man genuflect in front of St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans. He looked skyward, crossed himself, then picked up a half-smoked cigarette—still glowing—from the asphalt and put the butt in his mouth. He was still young, though with a drawn, worn-out look that came from the way he was apparently living.…

One time, I read a comment made by a famous writer about how she indulged in a ritual whenever she straightened up her closet, cleaned out her refrigerator, and the like: “I can’t leave one shoe alone in the corner or one carrot in the drawer by itself; I wouldn’t want to hurt its feelings.”…

As the latest political scandal broke over the past weeks, the same explanations and reflections were trotted out. “It’s never the indiscretion,” they always say, “it’s the cover-up. If you just come clean, people will forgive you; it’s lying about it that does you in.” I don’t know about that. I recall many a public…

I love television. I love movies. I love plays. Depictions of human endeavors, however expressed, through whatever dramatic vehicle, are as engaging as they are enlightening, as “sweet and useful” as any good Horace could want. Plus, the thespian arts have the ruddy hue of populism about them. Even the simplest soul, intimidated by letters…

A woman stands at the front of the bookstore now, holding in her hand, like a teacup, a slate-thin portable device. She is warm and inviting and beckons everyone over to her station, as though they are old acquaintances, come to call. Finger sandwiches, tea napkins, and a vase full of violets could sit on…

I have found it hard to do good. Oftentimes, I’m unsure of what the good would be, so cannot bring it about. Then at other times, I know what it is, but don’t want to do it especially. The best I can say is that, for the most part, I want to want what is…