School’s Out

A caption for the photo at top: “You’re wrong. So are you. You’re wrong. Turn around. Listen to me and turn around. I was just over there and let me tell you that the water over there is even wetter than it is right here. Where’s the pleasure in that? Just stay right here. You! You’re wrong. Stay right here. What? Say that again? There’s something behind me?”
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Flipping and Flopping, Wishing and Washing

If you are interested in the horse-race nature of American politics, the drop-everything-every-four-years-so-we-can-fill-all-the-jobs-in-Washington-DC portion of our public life, you could do no worse than live in either New Hampshire or Iowa for the entire year before Election Day. This means that right now is a good time to move to Nashua, New Hampshire, or Des Moines, Iowa, if you are a politics addict.

The reasons for this are obscure and boring, unless you live in either state. In that case you might be passionate about your community’s role in selecting our next President. It might be the one thing you care about, and you might care about it more than the name of the person who will get your vote.
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Beyond the Sea

The Atlantic Ocean. Those tiny dots are people with lives, voices, loved ones, losses. Sunburns.

We are standing in front of the “Beach Hut” at Smith Point County Park on the South Shore of Long Island. It is 2014, one of the more recent years in history. For much of my adult life, I have sat here internally convinced that I do not like “the beach.” I do not remember when I convinced myself of this. I do not remember an unpleasant beach incident that convinced me of this piece of self-knowledge.
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