DNC Day #4: The Hat I Wore to My Grandfather’s Funeral
I was living in London when my grandfather died, only he didn’t die quite as quickly as you’d think for a man who’d had a heart…
DNC Day #3: When All Eyes Were on Vermont
I’ve been through enough breakups (and failed real estate bids) to recognize the 5 Stages of Grief when I see them: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and…
Day #2 at the DNC
This morning finds me sandwiched between two Hillary delegates at the PA delegation breakfast. One is advocating for nuclear energy (what???) but also happens to be…
DNC Day #1
Being a delegate to the Democratic National Convention means making hard choices: do I avail myself of the free Bluecoat Gin at the welcome party and…
Hello from Henry (our new dog)
You know you’ve landed yourself with a pair of first time dog parents when they buy you a whole-wheat-flour-and-yogurt 4th of July dog donut and spend…
Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, and the Language of Massacre
On December 28, 1890, the U.S. 7th Cavalry Regiment intercepted a group of Lakota Native Americans en route to South Dakota’s Pine Ridge Agency and escorted…
Fieldwork in Stilettos 