What ought we to be optimistic for? For the survival of the earth? For the continuation of the human species?
Among other, graver things, I will remember the summer of 2018 as the summer during which we tried to stop using plastic straws.
From the water, our first view of the town is a magenta haze on the northern shore.
I remember shutting my eyes to hear the soft wind sigh in the fine fringe of wire-thin needles, gathered five to a bunch, soughing high overhead.
What the hell am I doing here?
It must have been 120 degrees—hotter, actually, since heat was also blasting upward from the volcanic rock all around me in the Sonoran desert north of Phoenix.
The 1850 Census was the first to ask U.S. residents about their place of birth, which made it possible to calculate the foreign-born percentage of […]