I yelled at my wife. I never yell at my wife. I wasn’t nasty. I was just bombastic for 10 long seconds. She didn’t mind. She knew what was going on. I was struggling, unsuccessfully, to manage the grief that we as a world community almost seem to be drowning in. It was a humbling reminder: Trump, and the soulless assaults on human dignity his presidency incites, are not responsible for single thing I think or feel.
grief
My Other Website
"The push to change the words “nigger” and “injun” in Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, because the so-called offensive nature of those terms might limit today’s readership and appreciation of that literary classic, is a wonderful opportunity to reflect on how we avoid taking responsibility for our feelings––and therefore miss the chance to become more awake, more whole, more useful friends to one another."
The Essay: The Gold in Niggers and Injuns
