Dawn Kane Writes

The dogs announced the landing of the plastic wrapped package on my doorstep. Used shoes. In terms of limiting my impact on the planet,...

On Front Street, under the thundering L train, if one passes through glass doors leading into American Grammar , there's the opportunity to pause, feel the calm, inhale the aroma of coffee, and take in the thoughtfully displayed artwork and books. And if one chooses, there's also the opportunity for conversation with owner/operator Terrance Wiley, a barista and associate professor of Africana studies at Haverford College, who happens to be very well read and appreciates the s

Sometimes things just don't go the way they ought. Yesterday the trash crew carried off our   Rabbit Recycling  bin along with the garbage. I was aggravated with myself for the better part of the day because I had lovingly packed it with things needing a second life—the dog harness that Coop had outgrown, the extra carbon-monoxide detector that we didn't need anymore, the light sconces that someone else might have upcycled—all gone. I should have labeled the bin, but it’s too

On a recent cloudy Saturday afternoon in a local park, a woman walking for exercise paused to chat. She told me she is raising her grandson, and she was waiting for him to finish a music lesson. We spoke of music; I don't remember what I told her of myself, except that I was conducting a social experiment. I had set up a sign on a picnic table inviting strangers to stop for a cookie and friendly conversation. I felt sure we could easily uncover our shared interests. I hoped t