On a recent trip to the University of Notre Dame to speak at a conference on “Religion, Spirituality and Business,” I stopped at a toll-road fast-food, fast-fuel station. A theme of my address was to be that “the market has won,” that it is all-enveloping, all-embracing, intrusive, unavoidable.
Years ago I wrote about the tendency of modernist, evolution-minded, progressive, pacifist theists to live long lives. Someone once asked Vida Scudder the secret of her longevity. She said that she was a liberal who nurtured many projects, and she had to get up each morning to see how they were doing.
Reviewing Jonathan Raban’s Passage to Juneau: A Sea and Its Meanings (Pantheon) in the New York Review of Books (January 20), Larry McMurtry concentrates on the act of saying good-bye. Raban, a skilled writer of travelogues and an adventurous traveler, tells his three-and-a-half-year-old daughter Julia that he is leaving for 21 days.
If anyone ever did a word search of four decades’ worth of these columns, it is not likely that cat would ever show up. I am neither pro-cat—I sneeze when one comes near—nor con-cat—I don’t want to lose any cat-loving readers. I am just neglectful of felines.
I wouldn't recognize Rosie O’Donnell if we bumped into each other’s baskets at the supermarket, but I know she’s big on television. And on the basis of just one of her sentences, reported in a recent issue of Time, I nominate her for a position on liturgical commissions and other groups that decide what should go on in contemporary worship and public prayers.