I first bought “The Diary of Anne Frank” for a dime at a church rummage sale in North Hampton, New Hampshire.
The house lights dimmed and the action of “The Last Confession,” playing in a limited run at the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles, immediately made me think of New York Yankees great Yogi Berra. “It’s déjà vu all over again.”
I’m spellbound by the Incarnation: by our fragile, mortal bodies; by the thought of what happens to us after we die. So in Philadelphia recently, the first place I hit was the Mütter Museum.
The Colburn School is a world-class performing arts school located downtown on Grand Avenue, kitty-corner from Disney Hall. I can’t say the number of times I have trudged or driven there to drink from the cornucopia of delights, mostly free, that spill from its doors. Faculty recitals, student recitals, Sunday afternoon chamber music in Zipper Hall. Lectures on ballet. An Adult Studies division.
Certain phrases evoke the pilgrim urge: Franciscan Appalachian Hermitage. Wayside Chapel. Summer Cottage. But nothing could be a clearer invitation to drop everything, go sit on a bench in the sun, and ponder for a while than the phrase “pollinator garden.”
When high school senior Angela Francis takes a picture, she captures not only a particular moment in time, but also “the feelings and emotions of her subjects, whether she’s taking pictures of students having fun at a school dance or during an athletic competition,” according to teacher John Hong, Francis’ yearbook and school newspaper advisor at Bishop Montgomery High School in Torrance.
We should all know about the California African-American Museum of Art.
Polish artist Anna Gulak has mesmerized pilgrims in Rome with a series of drawings on the recently-canonized John Paul II and John XVIII, portraying both the holiness and humility of the two saints.
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