[The Stage is on Fire] is a page-turner in which, much like life, there are no easy answers and yet each step of the journey yields insight and hope. This work of heart must not be missed!
Katie Steedly’s first-person piece [The Unspeakable Gift] is a riveting retelling of her participation in a National Institutes of Health study that aided her quest to come to grips with her life of living with a rare genetic disorder. Her writing is superb.
In recognition of receiving the Dateline Award for the Washingtonian Magazine essay, The Unspeakable Gift.
I thank you … It is the authenticity of your “class notes”; and it is the delicacy and skill with which you present the nuances of classroom life and the actuality of your students’ and fellow teachers’ lives.
If you place two living heart cells from different people in a Petrie dish, they will in time find and maintain a third and common beat.
-Molly Vass
I have lived inside big cities for many years. I love walking places. I love that everyone looks different and speaks different languages. I love the architecture. I love the events. I love the artistry of skylines. I love the music of horns and trains and sirens and city roosters in the morning. When I think of a third common heart beat, I think of cities.
What I have learned from living in cities?
It is possible to be anonymous in the midst of a crowd.
I can walk around the city and truly have no one notice me. ( I have heard it is that way for famous people, too. They just have to wear sunglasses and hats.) The anonymity of cities is both comforting and uncomfortable. It is comforting in that you can be having and bad day and in tears and no one will mess with you. It can be uncomfortable for the same reason. It is comforting that there are many things to do that are really fun. It is uncomfortable to have the boundaries of budget and time.
Cities do, in fact, sleep.
On a few occasions, I have caught an Uber really early in the morning (between 4 and 5). The city has a special quiet at that time – like the purr of a well oiled engine, or a strong breeze blowing through palm trees, or a washer and dryer in the middle of a cycle – not silent but quiet. That is the sound of the city asleep. The 24 hour clubs are still open, of course. A few people are making their way in from their nights out, of course. Trains and cars can still be heard, of course. But the city feels asleep.
Cities are urban jungles.
I have never visited the heart of a jungle. I have been close, but never to the heart. If I had, I suspect I would see dense vegetation and watch things growing and dying. I would hear unique sounds (that if I was a jungle expert I would be able to identify). I would taste strange things (and know that they were safe to eat because I was a jungle expert). I would be safe because I would know the rhythm of the jungle. I would be calm because I would be part of the jungle life. Cities are urban jungles in that buildings are built and demolished as natural as breath. The sounds are not from insects or birds or beasts, but rather brakes and sirens and cranes. The tastes are from restaurants lining the streets inviting the world. The hearts of people become the heart of the city.
