Category: Non-Fiction

5. Breathe. I have to remember to breathe. The average human takes 30,000 breaths every day. Most of these we don’t even notice because breathing is controlled by our medulla, part of our autonomic nervous system. I normally...

After spending most of the day trekking through the breathtaking scenery of Milford Sound, we were exhausted, “I can’t wait to get home,” I sighed. The four-hour drive between the inlet — home to seal colonies, penguins,...

Mother, have you ever noticed how in the middle of a cornfield the land stops only to meet the horizon in the far distance? I cannot recall if you ever lived in the sunny countryside as a child, as I did with my grandparents...

1 Preface In the past four decades, China has made remarkable strides in athletic growth. The nation’s world-class athletes have grown into fruition. Recreational sports in particular, and an increasing variety of activities,...

Remember when we chewed fat off hides, stitched with sinew, Neanderthal fashion? Now shimmering animals swivel with uncomfortable charm—flanked by flourish, vehicle for reverie as their heels click across the trill of runway....

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows. -John Betjeman It all started when my mom said, ever so casually with the makings of lasagna sprawled on the counter behind her, “I...

In the summer of 2000, my brother got married in France, where he had lived since graduating college in 1981. He was marrying into a respectable bourgeois family who could afford to host a large celebration at their country...

There are more than six thousand languages in the world. Each individual language is a pearl cultivated by the evolution of human civilization. Languages offer people a way to share their unique stories with others. Languages...

My daughter has my hurt in her. She lives with it better than I did. I hid it, softened it, made it acceptable, and then called my compromise a success. An achievement of normal. She faces it, endures it, mocks it by parody,...

I can’t walk along South Ferry without looking for the green umbrella. I picture it lying in the street, awkwardly bent, the rain beading like opals on the torn nylon. It had been pouring that day; one of those humid August...