I don’t remember the year exactly. It could have been 1965 or 1966. I do remember being in the fourth or fifth grade at Public School 30 on Staten Island. Certain things stand out. The neighbors with three blonde daughters … Continue reading Hank’s Wall
There I was, minding my own business at the end of Book V of the Aeneid, when I came across the word concussus. It means “stunned” as in a concussion. Virgil was using it to describe a sailor who had just discovered that his friend had fallen overboard during the night. I wanted to make sure I had it right, so I looked it up. That’s when I found, by chance, complexus. I do that a lot: wander around dictionaries, libraries, malls, cities. You can learn a lot that way. Just have good shoes and bus fare. What I read about … Continue reading Love Hurts
Not interested in Paulo Coelho, Fifty Shades of Grey, or Jonathan Franzen, my summer reading has consisted of The Aeneid. I have never read anything by Coelho or Franzen. I haven’t read Fifty Shades, either, not being interested in airport novels … Continue reading O, Mercury, Where Art Thou?
Now that graduation is over and summer has begun, the focus in academic circles has shifted from controversial commencement speakers to whether or not a degree in the humanities is “worth it.” This is certainly not a new topic, but … Continue reading “But Can You Type?”