Mary Dansak

A few years ago, Joe and I binge-watched all ten episodes of Country Music, A Film by Ken Burns (2019). Although I didn’t consider myself a true fan of “country music” before that viewing, afterwards, I realized that country music runs through my blood as much as it does that frat boy’s sitting in his gleaming white Ford F-350, blasting Morgan Wallen for all the world to hear.

Amidst the terrible destruction and loss of property, life and livelihood in the wake of Hurricane Helene, there comes another diabolical beast, an insidious and sneaky fiend: Disinformation. Disinformation, intentionally

I was born into a world in which anything was possible. The year was 1964, the same year the Beatles came to America and NASA implemented the Gemini program.

I like mules. I like the way they look, their long ears and broad muzzles framing deep, sensitive eyes. I like the way their feet are sure, and the way they freeze instead of flee from fear. I like the way they make decisions about what’s best for their survival, despite what their riders say.

I was tickled when our daughter Emma wore a t-shirt on the day of the AU-Vandy game that said, “I JUST HOPE BOTH TEAMS HAVE FUN.” While it was fitting

On this chilly November morning, I find myself staring out the window of my home office thinking about birds’ nests. Just beyond our precious wooded acre I can see cars, bright bursts of color, whiz by through a small opening between branches. A busy thoroughfare, cutting through land now carved beyond recognition, borders our neighborhood.

My parents divorced when I was 12, which altered our family traditions significantly. Crashed is more like it. Take Thanksgiving, for example.

Tomorrow, December 13, is a day to celebrate one of my favorite animals, one that has shaped and reshaped my life for the better. Move over dogs, my favorite animal

“I have a thing for Advent calendars,” our friend Susan explained as we oohed and aahed over her many varied ways of counting down the days. From the Harry Potter

Two weeks before Christmas I received a most welcome message on my phone. “Looks like we’ve got a baby,” it read, accompanied by a video of a brand-new baby donkey,