Description: A Memoir From the Trenches
I’m packing up my house. In the time I’ve been keeping this journal of our lives, I’ve written through multiple moves—some happy, some devastating. This one feels different again. Today I packed up my office. This has been a holy space for me, a place where I locked myself in to write The Burning Point in five weeks one winter, where I completed 72 units of law school during a world-wide pandemic, where my kids come to flop in the tattered green chair (that is so comfortable) and tell me what’s on their min
While the house has been good to me, Virginia and I are not made for each other. I tried. I really, really did. So did the six people who live here (all of whom were born in the west). I have concluded, after this extensive experiment, that there is a substantive difference between the east and west of the United States. That conclusion further leads to the hard truth that I am western to the marrow of my bones. In my eleven years on the east coast, I have been enchanted by New York City, by Broadway, by lo
Turns out I’m not only western, but I am a Yankee too.