Category: Life in America

Michael Dale David Sebastian

Navigating a new friend is like discovering a new museum. What is new about it, anyway? It’s been here for years. Yet it is new to me and I am new to it. Michael told me, casually, offhand, that he cleaned objects at the Victoria and Albert Museum in South Kensington. It was over a…

Surviving a blue day

One blue day isn’t just that. It’s the culmination of hours, days, weeks, holding on, fingernails biting into that last saving grain of wood. Fine, fine!. I laugh, I am fine. I am hiding it from you. What is just “blue” is ripping up in me, nearly dead and bleeding on cold cement, in an…

Big Green Men

The worst thing you can do– if you are me– is read the New York Times’s review of the Oscars afterward. The funny thing is, why do they watch? Why do these stupid, joyless journalists watch, if they don’t have any idea what entertainment is for? I wonder if Alessandra Stanley has any idea how…

Under "The Tent"

Authors really shouldn’t be celebrities or figureheads. Not really. Instead, they should be heroes. Margaret Atwood just fills a chair, like any other person. She is right there in front of me. She is little. She is older than the image sketched on the side of a Barnes & Noble handbag. But she is epic.…

Lost in Love

Was it the beer or the sunshine? Or just escaping London for a while that gave me the nerve to talk to Air Supply? Or none of that? I was on my way to Nashville, with three hours to kill in the airport, when I spotted two guys that looked alot like Russell Hitchcock and…

Dry Milk

Frances laughs at me. “You love being poor!” as I reminisce again about my childhood. Now, though, I am not poor. I open the cupboard now and look at that little plastic tub of semi-skimmed dry milk. It’s cheerful, with it’s red cap and coffee and bread imagery. “Ideal for use in breadmakers, cooking, tea,…

Spiral-bound Woman

I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear. — Joan Didion I’m sitting at my oak table, one I use as a desk. I am glancing up, now and then, at the bookcase next to the…

Perils of a "Lovely" Life

Colin and I were out Sunday evening to see Jon Stewart in a live performance at the Prince Edward to promote his book, America the Book. You know, I’ve been moaning and complaining lately because I never meet anyone famous around here. Madonna and Gwyneth and Kate all live practically on my doorstep — so…

Baking on Saturday

Today is Saturday. I am sitting in my kitchen on Delaware Road, making cookies. It is quiet in the flat. Colin is at the other end, sitting at the computer, playing a game and relaxing. Through the open window, I can hear, again and again, the hollow sound of a tennis ball striking a racquet,…

A familiar fear for an American in London

Published in The Kansas City Star, July 9, 2005 By ELIZABETH G. HOWARD Special to The Star LONDON — For the first few hours after the four explosions Thursday, it felt creepy, awful and horribly familiar. The BBC tore a page directly from an American news channel textbook: repeating the images of the decapitated double-decker…