memory

memory

The artist Dario Robleto finds beautiful objects and examines the deep reservoirs of truth hidden in plain sight in our memories, our beloved objects, and the voice. We live-tweeted this contemplative conversation with Krista Tippett at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts and catalogue it here for your perusal.

A poem about friendship and intimacy, waiting and being present in the moment that is heartbreaking and heartening in its song.

Jenny Ward McDonald at Her Family Headstone

Last fall the idea to visit the family graveyard came to mind for the first time in ages. Día de Los Muertos seemed like the perfect excuse to make the journey. I allowed life and distance to keep me away, however, and I never went.

A song of childhood torture from the back of the family station wagon becomes one of solitude during commutes and nighttime lullabies.

SevenPhoto by Alicia Reiner/Flickr, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

I am from fire.

Autumn is here(photo: Leandro Pérez/Flickr, cc by-nc-nd 2.0)

I never used to go anywhere without my cell phone. It was not only a means of communication, but my sole timepiece, and not knowing the time made me crazy.

This story has us all mystified. It resulted in this "thought experiment" among our staff, which led to wildly varying interpretations. Take a listen and tell us what you think.

President José Napoleón Duarte Visits with Mayor of Minneapolis
José Napoleón Duarte, president of El Salvador, speaks with Minnesota delegation while I place my microphone.

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An unexpected package. A book. A gift. Days with My Father.

In response to Speaking of Faith’s show about the brutality of regimes around the world and the question of the people who disappear — and their children — I thought I would share with you a scene from my childhood in Portugal during the country’s fascist regime that lasted f

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