March 11, 2020
A beachside bike path led me back to the Farm.
Undergrad fiction writers master the art of the speed-read.
Making new friends the awkward way.
How my students showed me the flip side of an Aesop's fable.
Reflecting on life’s randomness after a dire diagnosis.
My on-campus housing was free and the envy of my friends. Then the weather changed.
A successful author takes a second shot at the GRE, 40 years after the first.
After my name, it’s probably the most special thing about me—and it’s used as a slur in Europe.
Leland Stanford and I have one thing in common: railroad troubles.
I wish my husband could see how people remember him.
These days, when I look at my home, I see the nightmare that could be.