The Quality of Mercy
Paper sculpture by Layla May Arthur
So much wonderful music coming from my friend and former colleague Shawn Okpebholo, whose “Songs in Flight” – featuring the great Rhiannon Giddens with other brilliant singers – recently premiered at the Metropolitan Museum of Art before moving on to Philadelphia. Here the’s rave review from the NYT.
Many convents and charities in Rome provide guest rooms for the parents of children being treated in one of the children’s hospitals. This is beautiful, and good. A few convents and charities open shelters for men who are still reeking of liquor and shouting curses. This is ugly, and beautiful, and good. And somehow, despite so many things, a person who has found herself at Termini alone and homeless can find a safe enough place to sleep in the hallways of the public hospital, and no one will keep her out.
No, it is not ideal. Surely the best place for people to sleep is not the hospital floor, and surely their presence is not the best imaginable thing for the hospital. But mercy has never arisen from an ideal situation – it grows as a garden at the end of this long maze of non-ideals.
That last sentence is one to remember.
Ethan Mannon on the complexities and challenges and rewards of heating your house with wood. See also my thoughts on the home’s hearth as focus; and Elisa Gabbert’s essay on wanting a home with a fireplace.
Poem: B. H. Fairchild, “Often the Dying Ask for a Map”
Sometimes I write about fantasy literature – especially now that I’m teaching a class on it.
I’m thinking about the need to create intervals.
If you happen to own a Stradivarius, there’s a man in Chicago you need to know.
