1977: a long time ago. Omaha, Nebraska: might as well be a galaxy far, far away. In a cavernous mid-century modern Cinerama theater, I saw "Star Wars" (later known as "Episode IV: A New Hope") for the first time. I was 10 years-old and completely enthralled by the story, the characters and the ground-breaking special effects.
As a child, I adored every opportunity I had to visit my neighborhood library. It was the first place my parents allowed me to go by myself, and I would take every advantage of that freedom to ride my bike the few blocks to my favorite destination. Then, I would race to the children's section, select enough books to last seven days, and when my pile became too heavy to carry home, agonize over which ones to leave behind.
Princeton is a town of foodies.The evidence is in the recent explosion of unique and upscale restaurants downtown and the multitude of specialty food shops in the area catering to those who like to explore the culinary arts in their own kitchens. Cookbooks remain perennial favorite items to check out at the library or purchase at the Friends Used Book Store, even with dozens of places online to explore and save a vast array of recipes.
It seems everyone knows someone who knits, used to knit, wants to learn to knit, is related to someone who knits, or just appreciates the handiwork of others. Seeing someone pull out knitting in public is an invitation for a conversation. I've seen people knitting on buses, in line at the grocery store, even here in the library. So that makes knitting, which might seem like a solitary activity, a shared one and I have yet to meet a knitter who does not knit for others, be they family, friends, or their community.
As daylight hours shrink and the news expands our worries, perhaps we're all looking for spiritual and inspirational light more often these days. When fear's giant shadow blocks our view, we're left wondering what we have to hope for. When the unknown and the unthinkable preoccupy our minds, we yearn to invest our energy carving out safe and known refuges, gathering with cherished friends and family, and shoring up our strength with familiar beliefs, traditions and rituals. We need big magic now.
"We teach our children not to run into the street when they're toddlers, but we don't do the same when they become adolescents," said Laurie Halse Anderson, a young adult author who I heard speaking at Book Riot Live, a conference "celebrating books and the reading life." One moment our kids are playing innocent games and the next, they are hit with adult-size issues and often, they haven't been given the tools needed to navigate what has become an overstimulated, technologi
It's no secret that Princeton is an extraordinary place for high quality education at all levels, and preschool is no exception. With more than 20 schools offering preschool and pre-kindergarten programs in Princeton municipality alone, parents have a wealth of options - and the choices can be overwhelming. These schools provide a wide range of philosophies, techniques and services for providing the very best in early childhood education. What it really comes down to is finding the best fit for each individual child and their family.
Fall is in full swing, and all over town the leaves have turned beautiful shades of red, yellow and gold. The air is cool and crisp and people are gearing up for Halloween. Recently, I was taking a stroll through the leafy Princeton University campus and a novel sight stopped me dead in my tracks: a colossal pumpkin!
There is something so timeless about watching a movie in an old-fashioned movie theatre that I jump at the chance to see as many movies as I can at the Princeton Garden Theatre. Whenever I step through the door, I am reminded of the Lyric Theater in southwestern Virginia, which I would visit in my childhood. Recently, I went to see "Mr. Holmes" at the Garden.
We all crave an escape from our everyday concerns and routines - some experience or adventure to energize us or tilt our perspective away from the ordinary. I recently read an account of a friend’s unusual experience early one foggy morning. As she walked alone in her yard through the mist, she “felt comforted by unseen hands.” When she returned later, as the fog lifted, she found “thousands of glittering threads, a multitude of intricate webs… a message for me created by hundreds of baby spiders.”