Like most people, the fairy tales read to me were the mostly sweet versions. Sure, women were hexed by nefarious enemies, harassed by wicked step-relatives, or resigned to a permanent dormant state with the bite of a crimson apple. Overall, though, they ended with our …
“There’s beauty in the day. There’s beauty in the night.” ~ Claudette Dudley Living a life of wonder seems to be a good bet: an interesting corner, path, neighborhood, town, or city— wonder leads to wandering that often leads to something quite magical. Here’s to …
Ain’t life grand? In the image above, a boy and his bubble are captured by photographer, Marvin E. Newman, in 1950s Chicago. Immediately coming to mind at first glance was the moment of both intention and anticipation: chewing the gum so one can blow a bubble and the feeling as one pushes and blows, defying gravity as it expands. Exhilarating.
Do grownups play with bubbles? Do they ever do it when kids aren’t around?
I’m thinking of bubbles— in this case, the bubbles of egg whites that make glorious meringue and the ones rising to the top of a glass just glistening. That same moment of the ephemeral guides our anticipation. From the moment of the cork’s pop!, it’s a race to consume the nectar before it transforms from bubbly to dissipation. It holds us in the present, encouraging us to celebrate and drink. The bubbles tickle our tongues. The meringue, on the other hand, teases us with its grand architecture of white bubbles (without a trace of yellow yolk that would impede liftoff). For a little while, these bubbles are impossibly stable, easily piled up and shaped into mountains for Baked Alaska or pavlovas.
As long as I can remember, I’ve been told that I am my mom’s copy. It was always understood that they meant I looked like her (which was the highest compliment) but what I always wished was that my heart was like hers. There is …
This month the Black Garden co-sponsored a monthlong film festival by the nonprofit, HotHouse, featuring Afro-Cuban women. Each documentary highlighted a different woman’s story and I was reminded once again that not all stories are told and certain ones are perennially left out of history.
I had my notebook to jot down points to introduce as prompts later in the school year. Without realizing it, I started scribbling and sketching ideas while watching these films, called to it like a love language flowing from lips you’re eager to hear. Does creativity fuel others’ creativity? Emphatically yes.
This month was packed with images. During October, a month I especially associate with harvests, I revisited Julie Dash’s beautiful film, ”Daughters of the Dust”, filled with the stories of the Gullah/Geechee women on Saint Helena Island.
These yellow leaves on the screen and in this downtown garden frame these beautiful stories. Whether in South Carolina (Georgia!) or Chicago, listening to the shimmering leaves rewards the listener. So many stories, so much life.
As a kid, traveling meant using every single mode of transportation and exploring both the new and familiar. We were just as likely to visit the other side of the city where we were living as we were to be in San Francisco, Venezuela, Boston, …
Tucked into the corner of the Black Garden is a plant not much bigger than a sapling. Its flat leaves are distinctively delicate. This is a black currant bush. And this variety is called Ebony. It is the sweetest of all varieties. Love letter # …
Over the years, our traveling family unit has grown from just me and the parents to my brother to significant others and even the next generation. We’ve asked ourselves: if we go there, what will so-and-so like? This is just another reason why cities are at the heart of our travels. Sure, we hit the mountains, wilderness, country, and the remote but there’s just something magical about cities. We like the energy.
There’s of course Atlanta, arguably the capital of the New South. The home of Dr. Martin Luther King, the Varsity, and Coke.
And the city in the Aegean, Athens, that elevates its ancientness as its modern residents navigate the past. I lived there for a year and every day I learned something new. I could never get enough of the cuisine, especially vegetarian stews and luscious yogurt with puréed fig of thyme-scented honey.
And like most cities, Athens was always my base where I’d venture to far-flung places like Santorini, Crete, Patmos, and Istanbul.
Stay tuned to Barcelona and Berlin!
This will be short and (so) sweet. This week my parents came to Chicago to party. Yes, it included late night conversations, a walk around the Point, delicious food, and laughter. More than anything, it included love. Parents, grandparents, children, spouses, and grandchildren… so much …
