Popcorn, cookies forgotten, the room filled with the the quiet of industry. Pencils whispered along the lined paper. Occasionally vigorous erasing shook the table. A hand swiped the paper clean. Knuckles cracked in a pause of contemplation. A hand wiped a forehead, a foot shifted. A pencil tapped the table, before scribbling more quickly than previously. High school students were voluntarily immersed in the business of writing. An invisible sign swayed over the group.
“Quiet: Creative Genius at Work!”
“And sometimes I think about a one-and-a-half-year old child with its baby teeth still coming in, whose days on this earth were so very, very few.” (National Geographic, July 1988, page 53) The author of the article, haunted by that scene as he unearthed the remains of a 4th century town on the Island of..Read More ›
We spent a half week with all nine of the children and the twelve grandchildren. The occasion was our son’s wedding. Tears threatened when the boys, now men, stood as groomsmen for their brother. The struggle of our grandson to stay awake and the relaxed attitude in one of the boy’s suits served to prevent..Read More ›