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Guest post by Aimee Nezhukumatathil Dear Reader, As I type this, I can see that the usually quiet streets of my small town are now full and crowded by trucks with mattresses tied to the roofs, the various construction vehicles that peppered campus are slowly disappearing, and our big-box store is filled with harried parents…

Guest post by Aimee Nezhukumatathil   Dear Reader, I am covered in ice and snow for most of the year. But summers here in Western New York mean a bevy of fresh fruit from any of the local cherry orchards, blueberry fields, or strawberry patches. I live within five miles from several farms that allow…

Guest post by Bridget Lowe I still remember the first blog I ever saw–it must have been 2000 or so, and my friend Adam had created a place online for his hilarious interpretations of interracial buddy films of the 1980s and ’90s. I was completely enthralled and mystified by this external, widely accessible version of…

Guest post by Aimee Nezhukumatathil   Dear Reader, I confess I have not been having very “poetic” impulses lately. I type this from the haze of late-night feedings and though I may think of a line or two during those navy blue colored early mornings, if I don’t get pen to paper immediately, Poof, the…

Guest post by Aimee Nezhukumatathil Greetings from the land of popsicles and frozen blueberries!   It is blueberry time here in Western NY. My family just returned from our local organic farm (actually called “Blueberry Hill,” how cute is that?) and I have been searching for new recipes to try that don’t involve turning on…

Guest post by Carol Keeley Before caravanning West with a couple of movers–who drove out from the mountains, arrived ripely hung-over, looked at all the boxes of books and 78s, then called local movers to off-load the gig–we lived half a block from a drive-through liquor store. Weeks earlier, a woman was shot dead in…

Guest post by Aimee Nezhukumatathil Reader, I have survived a full two weeks of having a newborn at home. I suppose “survive” is a bit melodramatic for how fast and joy-filled it actually was and in spite of my doubts of all the reassurances from my friends and family that the second child is much…

Guest post by Carol Keeley It began, like most obsessions, in a used bookstore on Broadway. Late one afternoon, I was listlessly foraging for food and stopped to browse pre-loved books in my old Chicago neighborhood. I venture to say that most people most of the time experience the same four-o’clock-in-the-afternoon devaluation. [But] if such…

Guest post by Bridget Lowe When I was nine years old I received, as unceremoniously as I’d come to expect later in life, my very first rejection: The magazine was Highlights for Children, the one you see in the waiting room of every dentist and pediatrician, stacked next to its adult equivalents–Good Housekeeping, Newsweek, etc….