This post is derived from a talk I gave a week ago to the Royster Society of Fellows. The conference theme was “Tenacity in Turbulent
On our kitchen wall there is a framed piece of paper dated August 1944, curiously signed by Neptunus Rex with the assistance of his scribe,
At this point in the pandemic, daytime brings hope. Pictures of friends getting vaccines, talk of summer travel, and, at work, I am not responding
Note: Friends and colleagues have asked me to write about leading during these last few months at UNC. I’ve found the writing challenging, even though I think about such questions all the time.
Prior to Wednesday’s desecration of the U.S. Capitol, people were posting about new year’s resolutions, a practice I find both seductive and annoying in equal
But where was the recipe? Once through the recipe box. No cookie dough. The second time I landed on the “drunken meatball” recipe, a staple at my parents’ Christmas parties, but still no cookie dough. With rising panic, I spread the box’s contents on the kitchen table. If it wasn’t there, it was gone.