When Tim Robinson in his poorly fitting outfit that he most likely refers to as his “work clothes” describes an incident in which a monster barrels through his doggy door, we laugh. But when he points at the camera and screams “WHAT DID THEY DO TO US?!” who can laugh? Who, honestly, can write him off as absurd?
The French philosopher, Michel de Montaigne, writing in “Of Friendship,” imagines friendship as a bond so complete it resists explanation. It is difficult to read that text now without noticing how much it assumes proximity, continuity, and a shared life that does not fracture across distance.
I left Congo. But Congo did not leave me entirely. I came to the United States not long after. There were moments when the fear came back. But I had learned something in Congo about fear. Get closer. Look at it. It is never quite what it appears to be from a distance.
The women of Lota, Chile, or Lotinas, represent a long feminist movement to preserve cultural memory and reinvigorate the economy of their city. At the end of March 2026, they flew more than 20 hours to be in residency for a week at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign (UIUC), where they led workshops on art “as a tool of historical storytelling and civic activism.”
This was not how I understood myself. I grew up playing everything: basketball, volleyball, soccer, but mostly swimming, where competition felt clean and measurable. You either touched the wall first or you did not.
Anybody who knew Ray knew that Ray liked to do most of the talking. I could never get very far into any of these stories before the conversation turned to something that Ray was more interested in than his influence on me (which, indeed, there was no reason why he should care about this stuff nearly as much as I do). Ray may not have been the best listener, but he always had a lot to say, and what he said made an enormously positive difference in St. Louis.
He had integrity, always. He could be sly and mischievous, and he had a sizable ego, and he could drive you crazy, coming round on deadline day to rehearse his topic for Donnybrook at length. But he came round to all of us because he wanted all angles, all opinions. By the time he wrote or spoke on air, he sounded sure and strong, because he had researched and read and listened all week.
You know how in family obituaries they sometimes single someone out as a “special aunt,” or “special cousin” or “special nephew”? I had that kind of special relationship with a dog one time, a dog I dogsat down to her very last day. It is this feeling of wanting to remember Nala dog that has me telling dog tales today.
I could imagine generations of soccer players moving into this apartment with a coffeemaker, a fondue pot, a meat thermometer, what have you, then moving out and leaving it all behind. Since the landlord never inspected the place, there was no need for anyone to ever leave with anything that they did not want to take with them.
Having retired and returned to civilian life, what did Bo Gritz try to teach or communicate to us? Unlike, say, John McCain, he never modeled reconciliation with former enemies. He did not go to Vietnam after 1995 with veteran groups for humanitarian purposes. He did not preach against violence, or for peacefulness, responsibility, or inclusion. Mostly, he seemed interested in anti-social things: radical individualism, extreme autonomy, distrust of people, and the assumption of his own power, by violence if necessary.