Published between dates: (MM/DD/YYYY) and (MM/DD/YYYY)

By author:

In category:



Marion Whitley: Push back!

Posted 6/5/2020 in Local Columns

I had a revered uncle with whom were shared long-winded philosophical discourses. Perhaps the discoursing was mine; his, the patient listening.


Marion Whitley: Kay's letter

Posted 5/29/2020 in Local Columns

As some may know, I have "a thing for letters." I write them, receive. read and reread them; I save them, even write home about them. Last week, mid "lockdown," I received a letter I had written in 1995!


Marion Whitley: Finding a way to...

Posted 5/6/2020 in Local Columns

Last Saturday I made two trips up to the farmers' market on 6th Street in search, not for farm fresh produce, but for a sense of normalcy... for the relaxed friendly smiles of the vendors under their frayed beach umbrellas and their proudly displayed "oh so fresh corn, peppers. onions and thyme."


Musings: Being of two minds

Posted 4/7/2020 in Local Columns

"Being of two minds" has a ring to it, but misses a strategic something I call my SELF. I tend toward the comforts, regulations that have brought me thus far.


Marion Whitley: A 'drop by' visit

Posted 3/24/2020 in Local Columns

When you're told, "Yes ma'am, I live in Columbus, but I was born in Caledonia," you have a "Me Too Moment" like no other!


Marion Whitley: That matchbox

Posted 3/3/2020 in Local Columns

It's an old thing, that matchbox, same as anything you'd find in Gerry's houses, even the sad apartment on 12th Street where he died.


Marion Whitley: The trashing of the presidency

Posted 2/10/2020 in Local Columns

It's Sunday morning in New York. Ordinarily I'd be snuggled down with the Times, coffee or watching birds splashing in the last of the rain. But I can't get comfortable.


Marion Whitley: Ker-splat! on the eve of 2020

Posted 1/30/2020 in Local Columns

I remember a grand KER SPLAT as I hit the sidewalk ... (softened somewhat by the puddle into which I'd fallen. I remember the downpour two minutes before with raindrops the size of tea cups. I remember kind voices advising me to get up and out of the crosswalk.



Page 1 of 1



Search articles back to February 2009 with the form above.

Follow Us:

Follow Us on Facebook

Follow Us on Twitter

Follow Us via Email