Originally created to link Chicago to Los Angeles, the Mother Road was made famous through movie and music. As America’s main street, it...

mm Nothing is what it seems anymore. The world is slipperier these days. More unstable. Less solid. Predictions feel pointless. Plans...

I have often underestimated the gift of slowness - ignoring it in a rush, casting it aside when in a hurry. Overly attuned to calendars,...

The Beatles’ song sings of that age as a distant future – the way we all thought of it in our youth. It seems the earth spun around once...

marci madary My Grandma was 98 ½; she died on my grandpa’s birthday. He had left this world 5 ½ years earlier. Cognitively engaged until...

by Marci Madary My desk faces the back of our third-floor condo where I frequently gaze over my computer screen into the branches of all...

by Marci Madary Worry wakes me at four in the morning. Worry walks with me and my dog. Worry refuses to wash off my hands, even with...

What if darkness isn’t something to fear, but a requirement? What if relaxing into the long night is the secret? I have sat alone in...

Is a widow ever not a widow anymore? Is a mother ever not a mother? Even if, God forbid, all her children die? In the sensation of the...

Originally penned by a slave-ship captain, a confession of sorts; this, his prayer of praise for a conversion of heart. Something struck...