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She saw no significance in the memory other than it had displaced this actual day of her life and the disturbance her observations of Tommy McHugh had caused. Her life with her father and mother had passed. Her life with her husband had now passed. Was her whole life, then, all nothing? Was it just…

here are no more May Days. My daughter is grown and in college; we still laugh occasionally about the teacher protest in Gap. But she’s not a union person and probably never will be. Most one-room schoolhouses in France have been closed.

This brave new NAFTA-esque, GATT-arian world doesn’t seem …

became an English professor, and by the late 1970s was teaching at a small liberal arts college. One year my colleagues and I became unhappy with our salary and conditions, and I found myself on a committee organized to address the problems. The committee’s first task was to draft a statement defin…

MMy father used to express his hopes for me while passing through the doorway between his small store in front and our apartment in the rear. He’d talk to my mother as though I wasn’t standing right there. ‘He’s artistic,’ he’d say. ‘He could become a sign-painter. People always need signs. Pays go…

Our group of Americans looked up to this man, but I don’t know how he felt about us. He told us, perhaps only partly in jest, that they talk about two kinds of Aids in Uganda: slim Aids and fat Aids. People with slim Aids get thinner and thinner and thinner until they finally waste away. Fat Aids a…