I grew up in the city and I love the country, a fact borne out by the fact that I have lived as an adult in New York, Boston, and Chicago, and also in Kyle, Rhinelander, and Sylva. It’s a quintessential American desire to marry Mayberry to the Metropolis, hence the suburb, and my experiences […]
We launched a new website today. People are launching new websites every day, but it’s a big deal for us as a print-focused media company that’s been on the same online platform since 2006. I arrived at the paper last year from a digital startup in a small market that used WordPress and harnessed community-sourced […]
There’s a direct connection between the cover story I wrote last week about immigration policy’s affect on the local Latino community and Laura Ingles’ story this week, which looks at Habitat for Humanity’s plan to redevelop trailer parks. It’s no secret that Southwood Mobile Home Park is home to immigrant families and that many of […]
Last week in this column, I admitted to rarely taking a position on local news cuts or delving into national issues, because I’m interested in a more open conversation about the place we live than editorial argumentation generally yields. That said, when logic is exhausted, when self-interest is not a motivating factor for the majority, […]
I have been in Charlottesville at my editor’s desk for a year now. In this line of work—which is, in a way, about keeping time—it means that I have turned a shift. I’ve always thought of three month-, one year-, and three year-anniversaries as important moments in a job. When you start something new, it […]
“Despite its relative affluence, Charlottesville has an income gap problem,” writes our news editor, Graelyn Brashear, in this week’s story about the Green Dot Cooperative . Hmmm. Despite its relative affluence, America has an income gap problem. That has a nice ring to it. Despite my relative affluence, I have an income gap problem. Too […]
Last week, I joked in the introduction to our feature that I wasn’t 100 percent sure what power was.
By the time this paper comes out, the information in it may be out of date. That’s always true as I write this column, but this week it carries extra weight, since the UVA Board of Visitors could vote Tuesday afternoon to reinstate President Teresa Sullivan.
There’s no sign of revolution in Charlottesville as I write this. It’s a rainy, off-season Monday morning. No tanks in the streets.
I’ve been on something of a John McPhee bender of late…
Particularly good(e) simile comparing Virgil Goode to a toenail fungus…
Everyone was talking news last week. First, we learned that Warren Buffett was coming to a store near us, and then the Oracle of Omaha delivered a prophecy (in a letter to his editors and publishers) to make a newsman glow.
My favorite section of the Rivanna Trail is a cul de sac. Bordered by razor wire on one side and a road on the other, it forms a looped pocket trail near the confluence of Meadow Creek and the Rivanna River.
“What am I supposed to do, Giles? I mean, words don’t mean anything anymore,” a friend of mine told me at The Whiskey Jar one day after work, somewhere near her wit’s end.
In a speech at the Sorbonne in 1910, Teddy Roosevelt said, “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles…"
I saw A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Blackfriars this weekend and as Shakespeare intended, it made me think, metaphorically, about the way imagination works.
History. His Story. history. We can only ever see the past through the convex lens of the present, one of the truths of epistemology and existence, that, to be frank, is too often ignored.
I had a working mother, but as a kid I mostly thought of my mom in terms of what she did (or did not do) when I was around her.
Selected letters from our readers
“As long as the connection subsists between his reason and his self-love, his opinions and his passions will have a reciprocal influence on each other; and the former will be objects to which the latter will attach themselves,” so says James Madison…
It rained most of the weekend, but the soft, gray light only amplified the color in the new green leaves that are pushing out from the tips of the fruit tree boughs.
I’ve mentioned before in this column that I grew up listening to hip-hop, which is something that characterizes my generational cohort. I remember hearing rap for the first time at summer camp in 1986 as an 11-year-old (“Girls Just Don’t Understand” by DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince) and getting hooked on the form at school a year later (Public Enemy’s It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold us Back).