Saturday February 28, 2015
August 28th, 2014
We are the stoop laborers of higher education: adjunct professors.
If you were looking last week for a thread of hope amid all the hurt in America and savagery abroad, for something to thrill to and cheer about, this is where you found it, on a baseball diamond in central Pennsylvania that really did amount to a field of dreams.
One of the unsung blessings of Twitter is the way it continually reminds us that willful ignorance is alive and thriving in the American body politic.
In the past week, we were treated to widely retweeted photos purporting to show Capt. Ron Johnson of the Missouri Highway Patrol throwing a gang sign. The first controversial image showed up on an unvetted CNN social media webpage called iReport, and Internet trolls took it from there.
The death of Fernand St Germain last week, at the age of 86, got me thinking about the financial calamity that he was long associated with: the savings and loan crisis of the late 1980s. There are things it could have - and should have - taught us as we spiraled toward the financial crisis less than two decades later.
It's a tribute to the level of terrible news we've been inundated with this summer that the corruption trial of ex-Virginia Gov. Bob McDonnell may qualify as a feel-good story. Unless, of course, you are McDonnell.
One remarkable result of the rise of the Islamic State in Syria and Iraq has been how it seems to be shifting broader conceptions in the Middle East. It sometimes looks like enemies are becoming potential allies - and even old friends are starting to look a little suspicious.
As if things at home were not in bad enough shape we are back in the Mid-East up to our necks. Of course, the beheading of the journalist is just an excuse and was probably bound to happen no matter what we did. However, we lit the fire when President George Bush and his eveready warrior Dick Cheney led us into Iraq those many years ago for that little welcome visit.
As the tumultuous situation in Ferguson, Mo., entered its second week, President Obama stood before the nation and offered a mild, balanced plea.
It’s 3 p.m., and you’re cruising down a rural road, doing about 50.
A quarter mile away is a sign, with flashing yellow lights, alerting you to slow down to 15. It’s a school zone.
But, you don’t see any children. Besides, you’re going to be late to your racquetball match. So, you just slide on past.
My mother was a woman hollowed out like a tree struck by lightning. I wanted to know why.
Ever since her first suicide attempt, in 1978, when I was 22, I had been trying to fill in gaps. She was gone much of the time in my early childhood, and when she returned nobody spoke about the absence.