My professional writer's site, with biographical info; links to selected essays and other published writing; reviews and comments; contact information.
My biography of Gene Robinson, the first openly gay bishop in the Episcopal Church, published by Soft Skull Press in June 2006
In the Iliad, she is described as the loveliest of the daughters of Priam (King of Troy), and gifted with prophecy. The god Apollo loved her, but she spurned him. As a punishment, he decreed that no one would ever believe her. So when she told her fellow Trojans that the Greeks were hiding inside the wooden horse...well, you know what happened.
My deepest sympathies to you and your husband and family. You have so honored his life with your writings through the years and I will always remember your post about the almonds. Celebration of his long and lustrous life.
Our condolences, and thank you for taking the time and trouble to let us know. Take some time off to grieve. I don't have to tell you a lot of people will be sending warm thoughts your way.
Thank you for all the stories about your FIL and the love and support you gave him, you will miss him surely. My condolences to you, J and the family. Powerful image, by the way. Strength, peace and rest in the coming days.
Holy cow, Beth - I didn't expect to be this affected by the death of someone I never met. Your writing really brought him to life for me, and his death feels like the loss of a last link to a now thoroughly irretrievable time and place. My thoughts are with you and J. tonight.
I feel sad because someone I knew died today. I never met him but I feel I knew him thanks to your stories about this wonderful man. I wish you, J and the family strength in this strange period.
You made this incredibly interesting man from such a different culture come alive for us through your stories. But the best gift to us was the story of you and your husband with him. What an incredible journey you had with him. My deepest condolences.
You’ve given him a vivid existence for your readers. And now a quiet acknowledgment of the end, or rather I should say the start of thinking of him in the past tense. Or is each moment eternal? I’ve tried more than once to work that out. My sympathies…
beth
I have read avidly
and with heart light to heavy
your entries on your father-in-law
who from what I glean
from your account
was/is a marvelous man
you and J
have attended him
lavishly well
and he walked to death
superbly
He was real to me, thanks to you. What a beautiful and appropriate photograph. Your account of his passing has been so moving. Deep sympathy to both of you.
You have given us such a gift with these stories. Thank you for letting us share in the life of your father-in-law, and thank you for your courage and compassion in sharing. My heart is full of sympathy for you and your family.
My condolences to you and your family...I cannot thank you enough for your loving and thoughtful blog...I know it will help me tremendously when my mother passes...bless you.
Beth, I feel sure he would have been moved to see this photo you chose as a farewell. So appropriate to his character which your words captured so well, sharp and stern as those rocks yet also melancholy, eyes fixed on the horizon, always aware of the watchful cross on the dome.
My condolences to the family.
I celebrate a wonderful life lived.
My prayers for both comfort and gratitue fpr the bless of shared life.
Posted by: Al | July 25, 2008 at 07:37 PM
Wow. That is a long life. And a beautiful photo. My deepest sympathy to you both.
Posted by: leslee | July 25, 2008 at 07:38 PM
Beth, deepest sympathy - your posts in the last few months stand as a tribute to both your father in law and yourself. Take care. Andrew
Posted by: Andrew | July 25, 2008 at 07:42 PM
My deepest sympathies to you and your husband and family. You have so honored his life with your writings through the years and I will always remember your post about the almonds. Celebration of his long and lustrous life.
Posted by: Loretta | July 25, 2008 at 07:46 PM
Our condolences, and thank you for taking the time and trouble to let us know. Take some time off to grieve. I don't have to tell you a lot of people will be sending warm thoughts your way.
Posted by: language hat | July 25, 2008 at 07:51 PM
(o)
Hugs.
Posted by: dale | July 25, 2008 at 07:56 PM
Condolences -- and thank you for sharing this.
Posted by: Lori Witzel | July 25, 2008 at 08:34 PM
(o)
Posted by: Lorianne | July 25, 2008 at 08:36 PM
Thank you for all the stories about your FIL and the love and support you gave him, you will miss him surely. My condolences to you, J and the family. Powerful image, by the way. Strength, peace and rest in the coming days.
Posted by: marja-leena | July 25, 2008 at 08:53 PM
Holy cow, Beth - I didn't expect to be this affected by the death of someone I never met. Your writing really brought him to life for me, and his death feels like the loss of a last link to a now thoroughly irretrievable time and place. My thoughts are with you and J. tonight.
Posted by: Dave | July 25, 2008 at 09:02 PM
I feel sad because someone I knew died today. I never met him but I feel I knew him thanks to your stories about this wonderful man. I wish you, J and the family strength in this strange period.
Posted by: mare | July 25, 2008 at 09:19 PM
You made this incredibly interesting man from such a different culture come alive for us through your stories. But the best gift to us was the story of you and your husband with him. What an incredible journey you had with him. My deepest condolences.
Posted by: mary | July 26, 2008 at 01:20 AM
You’ve given him a vivid existence for your readers. And now a quiet acknowledgment of the end, or rather I should say the start of thinking of him in the past tense. Or is each moment eternal? I’ve tried more than once to work that out. My sympathies…
Posted by: ddc | July 26, 2008 at 01:34 AM
inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi rajioon, dear m
Posted by: old friend | July 26, 2008 at 01:40 AM
Peace and rest for you all at the end of a momentous journey.
Posted by: P.E.A. | July 26, 2008 at 02:46 AM
Peace be with you and yours, and may God's perpetual light shine upon him.
You have honored him with your words and with your love. I hope knowing that we witnessed that will be a balm for both the mourning and the relief.
Posted by: Pascale | July 26, 2008 at 04:05 AM
beth
I have read avidly
and with heart light to heavy
your entries on your father-in-law
who from what I glean
from your account
was/is a marvelous man
you and J
have attended him
lavishly well
and he walked to death
superbly
thank you SO MUCH
for writing it out
peace to all of you
Posted by: suzanne | July 26, 2008 at 07:43 AM
I leave a flower here.
His life, his struggles, your struggles . . . they have touched me as much as anything I've witnessed on the net.
Thank you for being so open here.
God be with you.
Much love.
Posted by: Peter | July 26, 2008 at 08:32 AM
He was real to me, thanks to you. What a beautiful and appropriate photograph. Your account of his passing has been so moving. Deep sympathy to both of you.
Posted by: Nancy | July 26, 2008 at 09:18 AM
You have given us such a gift with these stories. Thank you for letting us share in the life of your father-in-law, and thank you for your courage and compassion in sharing. My heart is full of sympathy for you and your family.
Posted by: ps pirro | July 26, 2008 at 10:06 AM
(o)
Posted by: Bill | July 26, 2008 at 10:25 AM
My condolences to you and your family...I cannot thank you enough for your loving and thoughtful blog...I know it will help me tremendously when my mother passes...bless you.
Posted by: bobbi | July 26, 2008 at 10:33 AM
Thank you for sharing this lovely man with us on your blog. Deepest sympathies to you, your husband, and your entire family.
Posted by: Diana | July 26, 2008 at 12:07 PM
Peace to all of you. Thank you again for sharing him with us.
Posted by: elizabeth | July 26, 2008 at 12:46 PM
Beth, I feel sure he would have been moved to see this photo you chose as a farewell. So appropriate to his character which your words captured so well, sharp and stern as those rocks yet also melancholy, eyes fixed on the horizon, always aware of the watchful cross on the dome.
Posted by: Natalie | July 26, 2008 at 03:54 PM