Meg Smith, Writer

 It's Sunday, Nov. 28 -- and it's a significant date in many ways.  Hanukkah begins tonight at sundown.  It's the first Sunday of Advent on the western Christian calendar.  It's the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend, when, for those who observe it, it's all too easy to rationalize: "I'm having another piece of cake. The holiday's not over until Monday, in which case we'll have leftovers." And for anyone who spends any time at all on social media, it's time to end forever a most unfortunate seasonal activity -- the Holiday Holy Wars. It starts, ostensibly, in the name of preserving tradition.  But, it's really a battle over which observance is most sacred, most valid, most deserving of setting public policy. It seems strange to see adults going through this battle every year, at a time nominally known for wishing peace and glad tidings.  But, before we rush to light the lights, string the garland and guzzle the hot cocoa, let's set some...

  It's the seventh Thanksgiving without my husband, Lawrence Carradini.  Like a lot of people who have lost someone beloved, I reconstruct his presence in memory.  Today, I went for a walk along the Vandenberg Esplanade by the Merrimack River, part of Lowell Heritage State Park.  This is a walk we made many times together. What delighted him most were the ducks bobbing on the waters, with their staccato patter, and occasional splashing of wings.  A silvery late November sky ensured shadows and reflections -- the constitution of memory.  I like to imagine a Heaven populated by ducks, and Larry standing on the river banks, talking to them in a language only he and they know.  This, to me, is the right of anyone who is bereft -- and even if merely symbolic, even if merely a comfort to those left behind, it is complete. It is enough.  The previous week, I enjoyed a vacation that included several woodland walks, and losing the trail on all of them. Sim...

  I was in London, listening to records, when I heard the song, "Tom Sawyer," by Rush. I was 15. I thought: "Wow. That's the weird song that's been on the radio all summer."  Not unlike Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody," it was a hit that sounded like it should have been an obscure novelty song. Too long. Too many changes. Too many time signatures. And what the holy hell are those lyrics  about , anyway? In that same summer, vising with family in Ireland, my cousin John, a musician, had plastered his entire, small bedroom with rock posters and magazine covers. One of the most impressive was a Rush poster.  "Tom Sawyer" became a broader world's introduction to a band that for nearly a decade had recorded songs and albums that by some standard, shouldn't work.  Certainly, some critics thought so. Consider "Xanadu." It clocks in at just over 11 minutes, and, taking a cue from Samuel Taylor Coleridge, describes a quest for imm...