Sara Holbrook author/poet/educator
September 24, 2006
Here’s the sentence: “She was a woman to admire and to desire, but the message in her eye and her bearing was unmistakable: offend or disesteem her at your peril.” I’m still reading Shantaram, written by Aussie Gregory David Roberts — it’s nine hundred pages and I’m not traveling with long stretches on airplanes and
September 21, 2006
I swear, they do it at night. I’m not sure who THEY are, but for sure THEY don’t want to be confronted by those of us enjoying our fall walks, watching the leaves take on attitude before they dry and take flight and listening to the birds discussing travel plans. Those of us who are
September 18, 2006
To the woman in the blue dress walking in front of the empty strip center store on Route 20 who did not tie back her auburn hair letting it fly behind her like a lacy cape — to the woman who led with her chin and whose smile was reflected in the way she swung
September 10, 2006
My hood
September 10, 2006
The neighbors in my hood had a celebratory potluck tonight. The developer, whose family in the past has performed surgery on this old village with the delicacy of a bulldozer, burying the old grist mill to put up a Kinko’s and erecting stripmalls with spreading lawns of asphalt from one end of town to the
September 9, 2006
My phone stopped taking a charge. I know this feeling, understand it in my core. When the sun is perky and I am too comfortable under the comforter. When no amount of caffeine starts my engine. The time I fell asleep at the only professional football game I ever attended, crowds
September 5, 2006
I’ve been feeling depressed lately about the state of the world. News articles and television conspiring to remind us daily about the vulnerabilities of mother earth and all her minions — human, fish, reptile and fowl. From polar bears to tropical frogs to children in Afghanistan and green space in Ohio, it seems
September 2, 2006
Name that song. If you can name Steely Dan, you were probably alive and musically aware in the 70s, as was most of the audience at the outdoor concert last night. Gray ponytails and speading foundations filled the lawn at Blossom. The temperature was in freefall, but Hurricane Ernesto’s leftovers didn’t reach the
August 30, 2006
No rushing, no deadlines. The cats are out, the dogs are in. Summer is slowing down to turn the corner into fall. School is open, the pool is closed. My neighborhood is far from peaceful.
Mentor’s school district is in financial crisis and decided to sell our neighborhood school at the firesale price of 700,000.
August 26, 2006
The book is at the printer. There are hardly better words an author can hear. It means all the work that the writer can do is done. Books start out in pieces, ideas, outlines, proposals, chapters, rewrites upon rewrites and then they come back in pieces, galleys, designs, finally, a printed cover. Then there are