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Rolling on

The Princeton Echo

It is Sept. 11, 2015 as I write this. On a sunny, late summer afternoon, I sit in the bleachers at Princeton High School, waiting for the first soccer game of the season to start. This morning, my son shoved his clean jersey with No. 16 into his bag, put on a clean shirt with a tie, and went to school. On the day of every home game, he and his teammates wear ties to class, a sign of team pride.

Posted in: Newspaper Columns
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The Shock

Huffington Post

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Illustration by Eliane Gerrits

The year is 1990. The time is 4 a.m. The place: Princeton. I am jolted awake by ambulances with sirens screaming, police cars, a trauma helicopter circling overhead. I live near the train station. I peer through the window at a cluster of flashing lights converging in the snowy night.

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The Lost World of Porches

Princeton Echo

Summer in America is the coldest time of the year. Women in particular suffer from the chill that pervades the land. This is a season of goosebumps, blue fingers and toes, and chattering teeth. I always have a scarf and sweater within arm’s length. Places of extreme danger are movie theaters, offices ,and any places frequented by men.

Posted in: Other Articles
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-2015 08 14 1439562910 1004204 Airco Knoxville Eliane Thumb
Illustration by Eliane Gerrits

Summer in America is the coldest time of the year. Women in particular suffer from the chill that pervades the land. For me, this is a season of goosebumps, blue fingers and toes, and chattering teeth. I always have a scarf and sweater within arm’s length. Places of extreme danger are movie theaters, offices, and any places frequented by men.

Posted in: Huffington Post
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What We Can Learn from the Summer of 1915

Time.com

-Agee
A figure stands looking out of a window at Agee House, home of the writer James Agee in Knoxville, Tenn., in 1962. Ernst Haas—Getty Images

One hundred years ago this month, a 5-year-old boy spread a quilt and lay with his parents on the grass of the backyard of their house in Knoxville, Tenn. On this summer night, he listened to the music of the evening — the murmur of neighbors talking on porches, the clop-clop of horses on the street, the hissing of hoses watering lawns, the rasping of locusts and crickets, and the flopping of a few frogs in the dewy grass. He watched the last fireflies flicker out and wondered who he was.

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There are two Presbyterian churches in Princeton, a stone’s throw from each other. In a neoclassical temple on Nassau Street, the prosperous, mostly white middle-class parishioners gather to worship every Sunday. Down the hill on Witherspoon Street a more diverse group comes together to pray to the same god.

Posted in: Newspaper Columns
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Dress Code? Spandex

Huffington Post

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Illustration by Eliane Gerrits

Translated from NRC Handelsblad.

Hairdressers and limousines, tuxedos and evening gowns, proud fathers and crying mothers, meetings with lawyers. A wedding? No, it’s the primal source of stress in American life: the high school prom. Here are clumsy 18-year-olds pretending to be loving couples, photographed in front of magnolias and azaleas, defenseless targets of the romantic projections of their parents.

Posted in: Newspaper Columns
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-2015 06 10 1433939216 952139 Nash Eliane Thumb
Illustration by Eliane Gerrits

Translated from NRC Handelsblad.

Unfortunately, genius often has a dark side. In the university town of Princeton, NJ, where smart people gather like exotic butterflies, no one thinks twice about it. Recently I was seated at a long dinner next to a mathematician who for the entire evening spoke not a word to me, avoided looking at me, and ate not a single bite of the dinner served. Then, as he left, he courteously bowed to me and thanked me for a wonderful evening.

Posted in: Huffington Post
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Saving Charlotte: A Mother and the Power of Intuition
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