I used to write to you every year. I’d print a letter in crayon and ask my mom for an envelope which we’d address to you at the North Pole, H0H 0H0, Canada.I’d include a greeting for Mrs. Claus and the reindeer. I’d tell you what I wanted for...
The small towns I write about aren’t perfect. Neither is the one I live in. There’s hunger and deprivation and, as a result of rural poverty and unemployment, there’s disenfranchisement and loss of hope.I’m reminded, though, how gestures large...
My word for 2015 is goodness. As those of you who read my blog regularly know, it’s been a year when goodness has at times been hard for me to find. At other times, though, I’ve been blessed with abundant goodness, a reminder that even in the darkest...
I lost a special member of my family this week, and my last living link with a world that’s now vanished. I blogged about Cousin Mary in August 2014 at the centenary of the start of the First World War. Born in May 1910, Mary didn’t remember the start of that...
I write about small towns. Both my parents came from small towns, and I spent much of my childhood visiting family and friends in small communities. Since August, though, I’ve lived in a small town. It’s a place where my roots run deep but, like every...
