Excerpt from Performing & Telling Your Life


I called my sister to see if she knew we were Anglo-Catholics. She just laughed and said she thought we were from Rhode Island. I asked her what her favorite religious holiday was. She said she didn’t have one. Aspect of the culture?  The music could be nice…the Sunday brunches, actually. The Sunday brunch, the whole family there, eggs, bacon, orange juice! And you know that sounds right. I’ve never really been a big fan of churches. But give me that brunch. Gorgeous. She said she thought we were just us. One of her favorite memories she said was how we always used to go to the beach every year on the day after Christmas, there would be snow on the sand. Call it what you want I guess, she said. And here I suddenly am again. Milling about on the shore searching for smooth pebbles. And its nice to stand with other groups and put on funny clothes, I get that it really is fun. And its all we can do really. All we’re capable of. But I can still her the waves moving in and out. And we can try to copy it, but it will last longer. Impressions are inherently less fun than the things their pretending to be. Cause’ water’s wet and dirt is dirt. It is what it is.