the writer’s life

Report from Paris: Art, Toilets, Poetry

Art and artists Today we walked for about five hours and at the end I felt like a novice in boot camp. It was worth it – the street music was fantastic, and we ate in the restaurant “Le Train Bleu” at the Gare de Lyons. It was ornate and a bit pretentious, but weContinue reading “Report from Paris: Art, Toilets, Poetry”

Report from Paris: Art, Toilets, Poetry

Report from Paris: Poetry, I am in Paris. I didn’t want to come . I envisioned walking through museums viewing paintings that I had known (or near enough) for decades. Sigh. It would be fine. I wanted to be out in the country, enjoying the dry summer heat, or the cool summer breezes, in touchContinue reading “Report from Paris: Art, Toilets, Poetry”

Our Children Are Not Our Children

This is a photograph of my grandchildren looking out on the Pacific Ocean. They have their backs to us, and that is appropriate. As Kahlil Gibran writes in his poem On Children: Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. …….. You may house their bodiesContinue reading “Our Children Are Not Our Children”

Chives on my balcony

When I moved to an 18th floor apartment in semi-urban Hoboken from a large house in suburban Montclair, I brought with me a nondescript chive plant in a cheap orange pot which was supposed to be reminiscent of clay but was only plastic. I stuck it out on the balcony and left it there. ItContinue reading “Chives on my balcony”

Thank you, Maggie Smith

The best thing about Downton Abbey is Maggie Smith. For me, it goes farther than simply appreciating a skillful, wily acting job. She has become my role model for getting old. Seeing Jane Fonda, all slick and slim, depresses me. Yes, I could do that with unlimited financial resources and unlimited appetite for slimness, whichContinue reading “Thank you, Maggie Smith”

Bless Marilyn Marlowe

A long time ago, while I was married to my first husband, Ernest Coates, I mixed up being married to a writer with being a writer myself. Ernest churned out thousands of pages of writing but never got around to submitting them anywhere, while I supported the family. Not a good plan, and for thatContinue reading “Bless Marilyn Marlowe”

Domesticated men

I have been watching two men take over the domestic life of their families — my son and my husband. My son has to take care of two children by himself for extended periods of time. He irons their school clothes and makes their lunches at night, figures out methods of discipline, gets them toContinue reading “Domesticated men”

Writing and activism

Some people march in demonstrations, or knock on their neighbors’ doors, or serve in soup kitchens; I write. I believe I should use some part of my abilities for the good of a larger community, and why not use my best developed talent? My blog Linguistics in the Writing Classroom is read by about 450 peopleContinue reading “Writing and activism”

The Real World of Guns in the Classroom

I’ve imagined a gun in my classroom. Maybe held by the depressed student, or by the belligerent one who thinks I have graded him unfairly. Because I teach freshman writing, and students write their own stories in my class, I know better than other professors just how unstable freshmen are. They’ve been thinking about collegeContinue reading “The Real World of Guns in the Classroom”