Someone asked recently what a few of my favorite things about Camp Mishawaka are. I’ve never been much of a fan of raindrops on roses (I have a brown thumb) or whiskers on kittens ( I guess I am a dog person), but not unlike Rodgers and Hammerstein, I had... read more
I didn’t expect to find a gem of wisdom as I was taking out the trash the other day, but I did. I had probably walked by this particular canister a hundred times, but this time I noticed all the writing. Maybe it had never been turned this way, or... read more
Even though I have trained as a Yoga teacher, lead an occasional class at my local studio and maintain a (somewhat) regular practice, I have never particularly liked that phrase, “holding space.” Maybe it is because some of the early classes I attended where it was whispered in an all-too-breathy... read more
Somewhere in this cluttered office of mine is a copy of a letter from the director of Camp Highlands, a venerable boys camp in Wisconsin, to the parents of the boys that were in camp in the 1925 season. It describes the effects of a violent storm that passed through... read more
Fifty years ago this week, my father picked me up from Camp Mishawaka as I finished my second year as a camper. I remember that the first stop after Camp was the laundromat (Bridgeman’s was the reward), and I recall standing outside as he called my mother from the pay... read more