by Lori Randall | Jul 29, 2021 | Reflections
In 1993, on a journey to Moscow, Russia, I encountered iconography in a spectacular way. Icons seemed to be everywhere. To my 19-year-old eyes, this ubiquitous spiritual art, like everything else in the former (but only just former) Soviet Union seemed mysterious,...
by Lori Randall | May 6, 2021 | Reflections
Occasionally, one of my students would accidentally call me “Mom.” This would not have been unusual, if I’d taught Kindergarten or first or second grade. But I did not teach at an elementary school. I taught at a university. Inevitably, the student who had...
by Lori Randall | Feb 18, 2021 | Reflections
I am alone on this night road, with nothing for company but the hum of the tires, the purr of the engine, and the transmissions – some as strong as if the speaker were sitting next to me, some barely audible beneath the static – fading in and out of the radio lying on...
by Lori Randall | Nov 20, 2020 | Reflections
Once upon a time, when traveling was a thing that people could do without worrying about inadvertently taking COVID-19 along for the ride, I drove up to Ashland early on a Sunday morning to join my boyfriend and his six-year-old daughter, who had been vacationing on...
by Lori Randall | Aug 28, 2020 | Reflections
Every year of the decade-or-so that I lived in Madison, Loran Miller would recruit me, as summer meandered into autumn, for the harvest. Handing me two plastic five-gallon buckets and pointing me in the general direction of the wheelbarrow, which I would need when the...
