Up there, in the mist and passing clouds, is a yellow crane: not the bird, but the manmade mechanism whose arm rises as it lifts heavy objects, moves sideways somewhere, then lowers as it deposits them. How can a heavy machine like a crane stay so
Whimsy
Jason Kirenden
Among the hundreds of letters I received before the email era that have somehow survived is one dated December 19, 1981 from Jason Kirenden. I remember Jason the way I remember a lot of literature and music. I can call up a vivid memory of the man,
Green-Wood
That Friday afternoon last month, a Green-Wood Cemetery employee named Katie escorted Laura and me as we toured options for our future remains. We walked from buildings to open areas with ponds and vistas, on to another building, and then to yet