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Mares eat oats and does eat oats And little lambs eat ivy. xxx

In her new year's newsletter, Sally deals with the horror of the Jan 6 invasion of the U.S. Capitol by domestic terrorists, while holding out hope in terms of a new Roaring Twenties of creative thinking. May the innovations and art we develop and disseminate stand as examples of what human beings should be and can achieve.

"Women of a New Moon" centers on a women's Torah study group. We learn about the modern women of the group -- their histories, relationships and crises -- through the filter of their discussions of Biblical women (such as Sarah & Hagar, Eve & Lilith, Miriam, etc.)

In the aftermath of the invasion of the U.S. Capitol by domestic terrorists sporting Nazi tattoos and wearing hate-emblazoned t-shirts, author Sally Wiener Grotta uses writing to try to understand the ancient roots of hate and find a path out of the morass.

In the aftermath of the invasion of the U.S. Capitol by domestic terrorists sporting Nazi tattoos and wearing hate-emblazoned t-shirts, author Sally Wiener Grotta uses writing to try to understand the ancient roots of hate and find a path out of the morass.

The artistic revolutions of the 1920s grew out of the First World War & the last worldwide pandemic. When we're finally released from our Covid isolation, I expect we'll experience a similar explosion of new ideas and forms in all the arts. Here's how and why.

When I used the word "gentile" in my new novel "Women of a New Moon," (currently a work-in-progress), it was the right expression for my insulated character to use when describing someone she considered a perplexing "stranger." But in reading the word, my friend was incensed. Would you be?

Do you know who and what Dear Abby was and still is? My sister Lee tells me that question identifies one of the generational divides, just as library open stacks, dusty old bookstores and enjoying getting black newsprint on your fingers while reading the Sunday paper have become things of the past.

Grey clouds heavy with snow / Hover close to the earth, / Extinguishing the sun. / Yet the air is sweet and crisp / Fertile with sensations / Of the ever-present now / And memories of never again... Please click to read a poem of childhood memories.

In this time when touching is so dangerous, the memory of a loving touch can help sustain. A poem: I look at my hands, and I see my mother's loving touch...