Why Can’t a Dad Be More Like a Mom? . . . Do We Really Want Them To Be?
My friend Carol calls them “the little inequities.” She is talking about the small, countless ways that men fail to notice what needs to be done for their children. Read more.
Squeak Carnwath — A (Female) Painter
Squeak Carnwath’s paintings strike me as consumately female. They muse, they introspect, they meander, they talk (lotsa writing on them) — like most women I know.
The Scottville, Michigan, High School Football Team — 1929
A photo of the Scottville, Michigan, High School Football Team — 1929
Book Openers: I Still Haven’t Figured Out How to Pray — But I’m in Good Company
“I am a failure at prayer,” author Barbara Brown Taylor confesses . . . Now there’s a woman after my own heart.
A Case of the Human Condition: I’m a Woman with a — Sprawling — Past
The trouble with painting inside your closets is — everything has to come out of them.
And then what do you do with all your beloved stuff?
Book Openers: Gary Laderman — Holy Super Bowl, Holy Bambi, Holy Michael Jackson
Americans are practicing religion in sports stadiums, at Star Trek conventions, at Michael Jackson’s memorial, and on pornographic websites. Holy is all over the place in America, says author Gary Laderman, a professor of American Religious History and Cultures at Emory University and the author of a new book, “Sacred Matters.”
Shepherd Bliss and Men’s Secrets — No Women Allowed
Men’s No. 1 secret, Shepherd Bliss told me, the one they want to keep from women — and other men — is that they, too, feel powerless. Read more.
God’s Big Blog: Hindus Offended by Burger King Ad
Is that the Hindu Goddess Lakshmi? Seated on a meat sandwich? In a Burger King ad? In Spain?
GodsBigBlog: OK, What’s God’s Big Blog?
“What is GodsBigBlog?” a reader asks. It’s God’s Big Blog — so named because God is big and humanity’s spiritual paths are many. I’m a religion writer in the tradition of Huston Smith . . .
A Case of the Human Condition: It’s the Fourth of July!
It was the Fourth of July, and the Scottville, Michigan, Clown Band — famous in those parts — was struting its stuff. I got a seat right on the curb . . . .