Essays

My brother, who somehow became both an engineer and a musician, has a phrase he reminds me of often. “You have to tune the instrument.” Coming from him, it makes perfect sense. Engineers know that neglected equipment eventually fails. Musicians know that

Twenty-five years after September 11. Twenty-nine floors up. Fifty-four people waiting on me. What anchors do you reach for when the world turns upside down?

The inner critic showed up with an editor’s visor and a clipboard. Everyone is writing about Odysseus, she said. Half right is not a note.

A preschool teacher declined to warn the children away from the swings: "Why? They only do it once." I gave my kids glass cups for the same reason. Discipline and disciple come from the same root — and the tuition rises with time.

A defibrillator, a forged excuse note, and what my mother understood about love that I didn't.

A number two graduate students invented in 1994, a man who should have had thirty more years, and a girl who was given no details at all.

A dog leash, a dishwasher drawer, and the only time Odysseus plans ahead.

In 2005 I visited South Africa, and as part of the trip we took a jeep up the Sani Pass into Lesotho, the highest plain in sub-Saharan Africa. There I met a woman who lived in an isolated rondavel with her

I grew up hearing Boudreaux jokes—usually from Uncle Bubba or my pawpaw, who’d been waiting all evening for someone to give him an opening. If you’re not from Southeast Louisiana, you might mistake them for Cajun versions of the

I have never once been late because I am disorganized. At least not according to me. There is always a reason. Traffic. Construction. A phone call. An emergency. Something unexpected. If I’m late, I can immediately produce a detailed explanation involving